September 14, 2006
Gary came the closest he’s ever gotten to getting his pants on himself – just not quite flexible enough in the shoulders to be able to pull them up all the way in the back.
This morning he sat outside waiting for the LETA bus, which he was going to take to school. Having returned from the chiropractor, I stood in the study at my laptop, working on my story. After a short time I looked down at my watch – the bus should have been there by then; I checked to see if somehow I’d gotten so absorbed in what I was doing that I hadn’t heard the bus come up the drive. Nope, Gary was still there. I went back to the computer, and a few minutes later I heard a beeping sound, like the sound garbage trucks make when they’re backing up. I looked out the window, expecting to see the bus coming up the drive. I saw it, but a short ways down the street. Then I saw it go around our cul-de-sac (we live on the end of it) and stop a house away, pointed in the direction away from us. I got worried and went out to the driveway. By that time, it was another two houses away, but stopped. I walked rapidly down the drive, and as I did, it started to drive away. “Hey,” I yelled, running into the street and waving my arms, “back here!”
Fortunately the guy saw me. Turned out he was late because he couldn’t find our street. Then he couldn’t find our house number (evidently not thinking to look on the curb, which is where the numbers are painted – guess I’m not the only non-sensate person ;-)). I’m not sure if he’d simply given up!
For lunch, Gary embarked on his planned adventure: to go from the math department down to the main street that runs by the university and eat at a barbecue place. He said it took him twenty-three minutes to get there, most of that uphill, and ten minutes to get back going in the downhill direction (I asked if he'd mowed anyone down, but he claimed he hadn't ;-)). He was proud of himself for making it (and I was too), and he said it was good exercise. He couldn’t, however, stay on the sidewalk the whole time: the entrance to a motel on that street only had six-inch curbs on both sides, which he can’t yet get up, so he had to go into and along the street for about ten feet in order to find a place he could get back to the sidewalk at. He assured me he had waited for traffic to clear and it hadn’t been dangerous.
For his reward, we made a pizza for dinner. Yes, from scratch. I made my secret dough (Gary says if I ever want to go into another profession, I could sell my pizzas and make lots of money, based on the dough itself – even though it’s simplicity itself), and I had Gary prepare the cheese, the peppers (jalapeno plus a mild one from one of his pepper plants that volunteers had evidently kept alive during our absence), scallions, and olives. I also added cilantro and some homemade roasted red pepper puree from a previous meal to the toppings. Gary said the pizza was, as usual, great, and noted that he hadn’t had one of mine for at least six months.
Janet Rogers had come in the afternoon and worked upstairs for about four hours (!). She told me she’d come at a time when I was otherwise occupied, and I had told her I liked to spend Thursday afternoons critiquing the other members of my writing group’s stories, so she had said she would come then. I am simply amazed at her energy, thankful for her help, and guilt-ridden for not working away right next to her (well, okay, the first two of those three ;-)).
In checking my email, I see Janet has sent me a link to a site warning against the infamous Al-gebra Movement. If you haven't taken precautions against it, you may want to read this:
http://www.murderousmaths.co.uk/alg.htm
Gary came the closest he’s ever gotten to getting his pants on himself – just not quite flexible enough in the shoulders to be able to pull them up all the way in the back.
This morning he sat outside waiting for the LETA bus, which he was going to take to school. Having returned from the chiropractor, I stood in the study at my laptop, working on my story. After a short time I looked down at my watch – the bus should have been there by then; I checked to see if somehow I’d gotten so absorbed in what I was doing that I hadn’t heard the bus come up the drive. Nope, Gary was still there. I went back to the computer, and a few minutes later I heard a beeping sound, like the sound garbage trucks make when they’re backing up. I looked out the window, expecting to see the bus coming up the drive. I saw it, but a short ways down the street. Then I saw it go around our cul-de-sac (we live on the end of it) and stop a house away, pointed in the direction away from us. I got worried and went out to the driveway. By that time, it was another two houses away, but stopped. I walked rapidly down the drive, and as I did, it started to drive away. “Hey,” I yelled, running into the street and waving my arms, “back here!”
Fortunately the guy saw me. Turned out he was late because he couldn’t find our street. Then he couldn’t find our house number (evidently not thinking to look on the curb, which is where the numbers are painted – guess I’m not the only non-sensate person ;-)). I’m not sure if he’d simply given up!
For lunch, Gary embarked on his planned adventure: to go from the math department down to the main street that runs by the university and eat at a barbecue place. He said it took him twenty-three minutes to get there, most of that uphill, and ten minutes to get back going in the downhill direction (I asked if he'd mowed anyone down, but he claimed he hadn't ;-)). He was proud of himself for making it (and I was too), and he said it was good exercise. He couldn’t, however, stay on the sidewalk the whole time: the entrance to a motel on that street only had six-inch curbs on both sides, which he can’t yet get up, so he had to go into and along the street for about ten feet in order to find a place he could get back to the sidewalk at. He assured me he had waited for traffic to clear and it hadn’t been dangerous.
For his reward, we made a pizza for dinner. Yes, from scratch. I made my secret dough (Gary says if I ever want to go into another profession, I could sell my pizzas and make lots of money, based on the dough itself – even though it’s simplicity itself), and I had Gary prepare the cheese, the peppers (jalapeno plus a mild one from one of his pepper plants that volunteers had evidently kept alive during our absence), scallions, and olives. I also added cilantro and some homemade roasted red pepper puree from a previous meal to the toppings. Gary said the pizza was, as usual, great, and noted that he hadn’t had one of mine for at least six months.
Janet Rogers had come in the afternoon and worked upstairs for about four hours (!). She told me she’d come at a time when I was otherwise occupied, and I had told her I liked to spend Thursday afternoons critiquing the other members of my writing group’s stories, so she had said she would come then. I am simply amazed at her energy, thankful for her help, and guilt-ridden for not working away right next to her (well, okay, the first two of those three ;-)).
In checking my email, I see Janet has sent me a link to a site warning against the infamous Al-gebra Movement. If you haven't taken precautions against it, you may want to read this:
http://www.murderousmaths.co.uk/alg.htm
posted by Peg Daniels at 7:45 PM
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