My son is being plagued by mice.
Or his yeshivah is.
I had long suspected that this was not a lone mouse prowling his room.
I was right.
This mouse has friends.
Aaron, having given up on the rabbi's homemade mouse trap, went and bought some sticky traps.
At first, he was not successful.
The mouse or mice or meeeces would come and eat the peanut butter, get somewhat stuck, roll around a bit and escape , leaving behind tufts of mouse hair.
Aaron , after watching one of theses rodents struggle and escape realized he would have to act quickly and grab up the mouse and trap and toss it into a bag.
The next time it happened, he pounced.
Plop went the mouse and the trap into a plastic bag.
Aaron was making his way to the trash cans when the mouse, athletic little rodent that he was, worked his way free from the trap And from the plastic bag that Aaron had not closed very well.
And the mouse ran right all over Aaron, or, at least, over a part of him, and back into the dorm.
His mother, of course, freaked out.
"That fucking thing could have bitten you!!" I screamed at Aaron over the internet.
Hey, he is deaf, it is no less effective than screaming at him when he is in the same room.
Okay, I lied.
If he is in the same room, he can see my face turning red with rage.
Aso, he can see the venom I am spewing as I yell " the fucking rodent!" . So maybe it is spittle and not venom, but you get the idea.
Part of me was also screaming at Aaron who has set himself up to get bitten by that same fucking little rodent.
Hey, you would also label him such if he was threatening your little, six foot two baby!
I told Aaron to have brick handy and bash the fucking little rodent's head in, the next time it gets stuck.
So much for kinder and gentler.
I also emailed my Kinder and Gentler husband- ( who is not as Kind and Gentle as the rabbi of the dorms, because my husband has never concerned himself with how I dispose of the mice that occasionally come into our garage, but who is Kind and Gentle enough that it is my job do dispose of any mice ) that he needs to email the Kinder and Gentler keeper of rodents, i mean the dorm rabbi, and tell him that mice are a real health hazard.
I gave him that job because everyone knows that you don't listen to women because we are soft spoken squeamish,and can't deal l with these things.
I will remember that the next time my husband or one of my sons calls me to deal with a spider, a wasp or a mouse.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Story of the Day 11/ 20/ 2011 #2
Aaron called.
It was wonderful to hear his voice and to be able to ask him directly if he is getting enough to eat. After all, he is a growing boy.
I wonder if the yeshivah has one of those wall charts so that he can let us know if and when he tops 6'3"?
We were also able to get an update on the mouse.
You might notice that I am speaking as if there was only one mouse. The truth is , I am sure there are more, but there is , still, only the one mouse trap for the yeshivah.
Aaron described the mouse trap.
After having him describe it, I am even more concerned.
No, it does not have a picture of the King of England on it. It is not that old.
At least, not unless they made Nike's back then.
I say this because it is ,apparently,a homemade mouse trap which the rabbi in charge of the dorms fashioned out of a Nike shoe box.
After Aaron had waited his turn in line to get it, he baited it with pistachio halvah.
The mouse, or mice, apparently are great gourmands and this did not entice them.
His next attempt was with some crackers.
The mouse, or mice, also turned their little noses up at the crackers.
Finally, Aaron had to go and buy what we use at home, peanut butter ( which is a luxury item in Israel) , and he baited the trap with that.
It turns out that our local Indiana mice are not nearly as well fed as the yeshivah mice are, and the yeshivah mice turned their noses up at the peanut butter.
After that rejection, and the face to face encounter his roommate, Aaron, had with the mouse, at 3 AM, this morning, Aaron spoke with the rabbi to ask if it would be allowable under Jewish law to buy the sticky traps.
The rabbi hemmed and hawed a little bit, but finally allowed that it would be permissible, since the mice were creating problems.
I wonder if he would have hemmed and hawed as long if the mouse had run up on his face, last night?
At any rate, Aaron is now off to buy sticky traps, and I am awaiting a photo of the Nike mouse trap which Aaron is under orders to email to me.
It was wonderful to hear his voice and to be able to ask him directly if he is getting enough to eat. After all, he is a growing boy.
I wonder if the yeshivah has one of those wall charts so that he can let us know if and when he tops 6'3"?
We were also able to get an update on the mouse.
You might notice that I am speaking as if there was only one mouse. The truth is , I am sure there are more, but there is , still, only the one mouse trap for the yeshivah.
Aaron described the mouse trap.
After having him describe it, I am even more concerned.
No, it does not have a picture of the King of England on it. It is not that old.
At least, not unless they made Nike's back then.
I say this because it is ,apparently,a homemade mouse trap which the rabbi in charge of the dorms fashioned out of a Nike shoe box.
After Aaron had waited his turn in line to get it, he baited it with pistachio halvah.
The mouse, or mice, apparently are great gourmands and this did not entice them.
His next attempt was with some crackers.
The mouse, or mice, also turned their little noses up at the crackers.
Finally, Aaron had to go and buy what we use at home, peanut butter ( which is a luxury item in Israel) , and he baited the trap with that.
It turns out that our local Indiana mice are not nearly as well fed as the yeshivah mice are, and the yeshivah mice turned their noses up at the peanut butter.
After that rejection, and the face to face encounter his roommate, Aaron, had with the mouse, at 3 AM, this morning, Aaron spoke with the rabbi to ask if it would be allowable under Jewish law to buy the sticky traps.
The rabbi hemmed and hawed a little bit, but finally allowed that it would be permissible, since the mice were creating problems.
I wonder if he would have hemmed and hawed as long if the mouse had run up on his face, last night?
At any rate, Aaron is now off to buy sticky traps, and I am awaiting a photo of the Nike mouse trap which Aaron is under orders to email to me.
Monday, November 28, 2011
Story of the Day 11/20/2011
This is the mouse update.
The current mouse update.
Unfortunately, there will probably be more....
The previous mouse update was that after waiting in a line that stretched down the hall ( figuratively) , it was finally, last week, Aaron's turn to use the yeshivah's mouse trap.
Since they are very economical, and they keep reusing this one mouse trap, and they only have this one mouse trap, which is why Aaron had to wait his turn to use it, I envision it as one of those mighty traps from the 1940's, from when the British were treating "Palestine" as their colony , although, one that even they didn't really want to keep because it had too many Jews in it. Okay, they did want to keep it, which is even odder because not only did they not like them thar Jews, there was no oil.
But back to the mouse trap.
Did I mention that there is one? One as in only one?
Sorry, I am still trying to get over that fact. It may take me a few more years.
So, this one mouse trap which is handed out to kids, in turn...I am trying to visualize it. Maybe this vintage trap even has a lovely little picture of the king on it. The King of England, you know, Elizabeth's dad.
I can imagine this. A nice portrait( maybe a side view) of the king, now with bits of dark brown from the flecks of generations of mouse blood staining it.
And now Aaron finally had his turn with the mouse trap, and he baited it with peanut butter which he had especially purchased for this purpose from the supermarket, and he waited, and he waited, and he waited.
And the mouse didn't bite.
Okay, he did bite. He ate the peanut butter and didn't' set off the trap.
This was after the same picky mouse didn't go for the pistachio halvah or the cheese crackers.
So, he and his roommate decided that it might just take a little longer, they left the trap in place ( with some more peanut butter as bait) and went to sleep.
Until the mouse, feeling ever so frisky, decided to go exploring up and over his roommate's face.
I asked Aaron if his roommate had " shrieked like girl", the thing that Aaron took pride in not doing when he first came face to face (thankfully, in a less literal sense) with the mouse.
"How would I know?" He replied.
Good point. Aaron is deaf and he doesn't' sleep with his hearing aids on.
And this is the kid that can't be woken up by a generic smoke detector.
His roommate was, however, thankful that he had been wearing his hoodie.
I thought about this...why would he care? It is much worse to have a mouse crawl over your face than in your hair and then down the back of your shirt and...oh wait, no it isn't!
At any rate, so much of the kinder and gentler yeshivah students.
Despite the pleadings of the dormitory rabbi to not use those dreaded sticky traps that catch but do not kill, Aaron and his roommate, Aaron, or shodul I call them Aaron 1 and Aaron 2? At any rate, they are headed out to wherever it is to buy some of those mean and nasty sticky traps.
The current mouse update.
Unfortunately, there will probably be more....
The previous mouse update was that after waiting in a line that stretched down the hall ( figuratively) , it was finally, last week, Aaron's turn to use the yeshivah's mouse trap.
Since they are very economical, and they keep reusing this one mouse trap, and they only have this one mouse trap, which is why Aaron had to wait his turn to use it, I envision it as one of those mighty traps from the 1940's, from when the British were treating "Palestine" as their colony , although, one that even they didn't really want to keep because it had too many Jews in it. Okay, they did want to keep it, which is even odder because not only did they not like them thar Jews, there was no oil.
But back to the mouse trap.
Did I mention that there is one? One as in only one?
Sorry, I am still trying to get over that fact. It may take me a few more years.
So, this one mouse trap which is handed out to kids, in turn...I am trying to visualize it. Maybe this vintage trap even has a lovely little picture of the king on it. The King of England, you know, Elizabeth's dad.
I can imagine this. A nice portrait( maybe a side view) of the king, now with bits of dark brown from the flecks of generations of mouse blood staining it.
And now Aaron finally had his turn with the mouse trap, and he baited it with peanut butter which he had especially purchased for this purpose from the supermarket, and he waited, and he waited, and he waited.
And the mouse didn't bite.
Okay, he did bite. He ate the peanut butter and didn't' set off the trap.
This was after the same picky mouse didn't go for the pistachio halvah or the cheese crackers.
So, he and his roommate decided that it might just take a little longer, they left the trap in place ( with some more peanut butter as bait) and went to sleep.
Until the mouse, feeling ever so frisky, decided to go exploring up and over his roommate's face.
I asked Aaron if his roommate had " shrieked like girl", the thing that Aaron took pride in not doing when he first came face to face (thankfully, in a less literal sense) with the mouse.
"How would I know?" He replied.
Good point. Aaron is deaf and he doesn't' sleep with his hearing aids on.
And this is the kid that can't be woken up by a generic smoke detector.
His roommate was, however, thankful that he had been wearing his hoodie.
I thought about this...why would he care? It is much worse to have a mouse crawl over your face than in your hair and then down the back of your shirt and...oh wait, no it isn't!
At any rate, so much of the kinder and gentler yeshivah students.
Despite the pleadings of the dormitory rabbi to not use those dreaded sticky traps that catch but do not kill, Aaron and his roommate, Aaron, or shodul I call them Aaron 1 and Aaron 2? At any rate, they are headed out to wherever it is to buy some of those mean and nasty sticky traps.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Story of the Day 11/3/2011
Ely has been working part time position through Americorps . This position is with the Health department and is to encourage people to not smoke.
Today, Ely and orphelia went to a "Workshop for Engaging Elected Officials in Conversations About the Need for Smoking Prevention and Cessation Program Funding Without Lobbying".
Lunch was pulled pork sandwiches. I am not exactly sure how or why you would want to pull pork, but both Ely and I are glad that he packed his lunch.
Unfortunately, the speaker was not only uninspiring, he was boring- very, very boring.
So, Ely decided to take a smoking break and call me.
Today, Ely and orphelia went to a "Workshop for Engaging Elected Officials in Conversations About the Need for Smoking Prevention and Cessation Program Funding Without Lobbying".
Lunch was pulled pork sandwiches. I am not exactly sure how or why you would want to pull pork, but both Ely and I are glad that he packed his lunch.
Unfortunately, the speaker was not only uninspiring, he was boring- very, very boring.
So, Ely decided to take a smoking break and call me.
Friday, November 25, 2011
Story of the Day 11/ 18/ 2011 #2
After waiting for two weeks, it is finally my son's turn to use the yeshivah's mouse trap.
This is not the kinder and gentler mouse trap, this is an actual "the metal bar snaps down and kills the damned rodent" kind of mouse trap.
Aaron had to wait until the other student was done catching his mouse.
Now, it is Aaron's turn.
He baited it with pistachio halvah.
The mouse wasn't interested.
He baited it with cheese crackers.
The mouse wasn't interested.
He baited it with peanut butter.
He went to the grocery store for this purpose, to buy peanut butter to bait the trap.
This is what I use , at home, except that our mice are picky, so I have to put a couple of chocolate chips from Trader Joe's on the peanut butter.
Of course, I have to go to Trader Joe's and buy the chocolate chips especially for this.
Oddly, we never seem to have any left in the house on the occasion that we get a mouse in the gragae. I wonder why that is?
Despite the fact that they come in a nice sized bag, and it usually takes two chocolate chips to catch the mouse that has decided our garage is warmer or drier than the outside.
I didn't ask Aaron if he used chocolate, I am assuming that the Israeli mice will be happy enough just to get peanut butter either that or the chocolate didn't' last long enough to make it into the trap.
I also was a bit surprised because the last time I was in Israel, you had to look a lot to buy peanut butter, which was a bit of a luxury.
Since Jimmy Carter , indubitably the best known of all the peanut farmers....well, maybe if we exclude his brother ,has fallen more out of favor since then, i am, actually, surprised that the stores still carry any.
Sicne he has been waiting while for his turn to use the trap, I decided to do a little math. There are a few hundred students in the yeshivah. His next door neighbor also has a mouse.
Let us assume that they are actually different mice. It is probably not fair to assume that every room is so blessed as to have its own mouse, though, so let us assume ( and this is a very low guesstimate) there are 40 mice for the entire yeshivah and one trap.
I calculate that this is a losing proposition.
There si no way they can trap even 10 mice, by sharing one trap, without having an ever growing mouse population.
So, what should they do?
They could buy some more traps.
Perhaps, however, that is not economical.
There is a solution that would not tax the yeshivah's resources.
They could get a cat.
Now, I wil assume you ae an American and are reading this.
In America, cats are loved and cared for. They have toys and special cat foods formulated for glossy coats and acid reflux.
they have cat psychologists, to take care of their anxieties and bipolar disorder.
Israeli cats are not like American cats.
This is because in israel, except for the rare , oddball, and there are a few, no one likes cats.
Cats are essentially treated as vermin. They live on the streets and fend for them selves and no one buys them toys or drugs or even cat food.
If one comes up to you when you are sitting at an outdoor cafe, you throw a bottle at it, or kick at it to make it go away.
As a result, the cats are hungry; and like most hungry stalking animals, they are incredibly good hunters and scavengers.
And they are more than happy to eat as many mice as the yeshivah has.
The only problem is that they are, because ether are used to being run off, almost as hard to catch as a rat...whoops, I mean a mouse.
In the meanwhile, however, we shall see how this mouse trap is working out, now that it has been baited with peanut butter.
This is not the kinder and gentler mouse trap, this is an actual "the metal bar snaps down and kills the damned rodent" kind of mouse trap.
Aaron had to wait until the other student was done catching his mouse.
Now, it is Aaron's turn.
He baited it with pistachio halvah.
The mouse wasn't interested.
He baited it with cheese crackers.
The mouse wasn't interested.
He baited it with peanut butter.
He went to the grocery store for this purpose, to buy peanut butter to bait the trap.
This is what I use , at home, except that our mice are picky, so I have to put a couple of chocolate chips from Trader Joe's on the peanut butter.
Of course, I have to go to Trader Joe's and buy the chocolate chips especially for this.
Oddly, we never seem to have any left in the house on the occasion that we get a mouse in the gragae. I wonder why that is?
Despite the fact that they come in a nice sized bag, and it usually takes two chocolate chips to catch the mouse that has decided our garage is warmer or drier than the outside.
I didn't ask Aaron if he used chocolate, I am assuming that the Israeli mice will be happy enough just to get peanut butter either that or the chocolate didn't' last long enough to make it into the trap.
I also was a bit surprised because the last time I was in Israel, you had to look a lot to buy peanut butter, which was a bit of a luxury.
Since Jimmy Carter , indubitably the best known of all the peanut farmers....well, maybe if we exclude his brother ,has fallen more out of favor since then, i am, actually, surprised that the stores still carry any.
Sicne he has been waiting while for his turn to use the trap, I decided to do a little math. There are a few hundred students in the yeshivah. His next door neighbor also has a mouse.
Let us assume that they are actually different mice. It is probably not fair to assume that every room is so blessed as to have its own mouse, though, so let us assume ( and this is a very low guesstimate) there are 40 mice for the entire yeshivah and one trap.
I calculate that this is a losing proposition.
There si no way they can trap even 10 mice, by sharing one trap, without having an ever growing mouse population.
So, what should they do?
They could buy some more traps.
Perhaps, however, that is not economical.
There is a solution that would not tax the yeshivah's resources.
They could get a cat.
Now, I wil assume you ae an American and are reading this.
In America, cats are loved and cared for. They have toys and special cat foods formulated for glossy coats and acid reflux.
they have cat psychologists, to take care of their anxieties and bipolar disorder.
Israeli cats are not like American cats.
This is because in israel, except for the rare , oddball, and there are a few, no one likes cats.
Cats are essentially treated as vermin. They live on the streets and fend for them selves and no one buys them toys or drugs or even cat food.
If one comes up to you when you are sitting at an outdoor cafe, you throw a bottle at it, or kick at it to make it go away.
As a result, the cats are hungry; and like most hungry stalking animals, they are incredibly good hunters and scavengers.
And they are more than happy to eat as many mice as the yeshivah has.
The only problem is that they are, because ether are used to being run off, almost as hard to catch as a rat...whoops, I mean a mouse.
In the meanwhile, however, we shall see how this mouse trap is working out, now that it has been baited with peanut butter.
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Story of the day 11/15/2011
Sarah had a basketball game.
Actually, she had two, Varsity and Junior Varsity.
No, she did not play. She is a team manager and she had to set up and run the video camera and tear down.
My job was to drop her off and pick her up and I would like you to know that I did a very good job of it.
I managed to not get lost and only about 14 drivers passed me or honked because i was driving 41 mph is a 40 mph zone.
For some reason, they think that if I actually pay attention to the speed limit, I am doing something wrong. Since it was rather dark out, and the roads have a lot of potholes, I really don't' get this. But anyway, I picked up Ms. Sraah and we were drove home.
As we came around the curve on our street, and our street is relatively a long one, we saw cars parked along the edge of the street.
Not only is the street rather long, it starts with the 400s and goes until the 800s, but there are no curbs or sidewalks or anything urban like that. This is because it used to be a suburb.
Actually, our neighborhood was the first "open" suburb in Indianapolis. open, for those of you who are too young to remember things like this, meant that they allowed degenerates like Jews and blacks buy homes. You know, people like my family.
In the 1980's, Indianapolis had an identity crisis and decided to annex a bunch of suburbs so that it could pretend it was a lot larger than it really is. It wanted to be a "big" city.
So, they annexed out area, but didn't give us nice things like curbs, sidewalks, sewers or streetlights.
They also don't plow our street in the winter, but that is another story.
The lack of curbs means that people park up a bit on the grass, and the lack of street lights means that out neighborhood association pays for a grand total of one in the middle of our longish street, so that when you are driving home and see some dark shapes, a few cars on the side of the road and a figure standing there, you had to practically be upon them to realize, as we did this evening, that the person standing close to the street and close to the start of our yard, is one of the teenage boys who lives there ( in the house just east of ours), and the two cars before our driveway and the one just past it were police cars. None of which had their lights flashing, and none of which had their occupants out on the lawn with the young man, and none of which, as we found out a moment later, were in our house; but were, apparently busy with the neighbor's home.
Since there was no gunfire and no blood, we will wait patiently to see what the newspaper says about this, tomorrow.
Actually, she had two, Varsity and Junior Varsity.
No, she did not play. She is a team manager and she had to set up and run the video camera and tear down.
My job was to drop her off and pick her up and I would like you to know that I did a very good job of it.
I managed to not get lost and only about 14 drivers passed me or honked because i was driving 41 mph is a 40 mph zone.
For some reason, they think that if I actually pay attention to the speed limit, I am doing something wrong. Since it was rather dark out, and the roads have a lot of potholes, I really don't' get this. But anyway, I picked up Ms. Sraah and we were drove home.
As we came around the curve on our street, and our street is relatively a long one, we saw cars parked along the edge of the street.
Not only is the street rather long, it starts with the 400s and goes until the 800s, but there are no curbs or sidewalks or anything urban like that. This is because it used to be a suburb.
Actually, our neighborhood was the first "open" suburb in Indianapolis. open, for those of you who are too young to remember things like this, meant that they allowed degenerates like Jews and blacks buy homes. You know, people like my family.
In the 1980's, Indianapolis had an identity crisis and decided to annex a bunch of suburbs so that it could pretend it was a lot larger than it really is. It wanted to be a "big" city.
So, they annexed out area, but didn't give us nice things like curbs, sidewalks, sewers or streetlights.
They also don't plow our street in the winter, but that is another story.
The lack of curbs means that people park up a bit on the grass, and the lack of street lights means that out neighborhood association pays for a grand total of one in the middle of our longish street, so that when you are driving home and see some dark shapes, a few cars on the side of the road and a figure standing there, you had to practically be upon them to realize, as we did this evening, that the person standing close to the street and close to the start of our yard, is one of the teenage boys who lives there ( in the house just east of ours), and the two cars before our driveway and the one just past it were police cars. None of which had their lights flashing, and none of which had their occupants out on the lawn with the young man, and none of which, as we found out a moment later, were in our house; but were, apparently busy with the neighbor's home.
Since there was no gunfire and no blood, we will wait patiently to see what the newspaper says about this, tomorrow.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Story of the Day 10/30 2011
( This is the first of the "Aaron arrives in Israel" stories. They are being posted out of order which means they resemble a lot of my life.... Aaron left Indianapolis on11/29 and arrived in Israel in the late afternoon of 11/30)
Aaron called me at 1:35 PM.
From Israel.
It was a lousy connection. I know that because I had trouble hearing him.
He also had trouble hearing me, but that doesn't prove anything, since he is deaf.
I asked him if he had gotten a cell phone, because his calling me took me by surprise.
He said "No".
He was using the office phone in the yeshiva.
At first, I thought, "How nice, they let him use it to let me know he has arrived safely."
Then I thought, " Nah, they force each of the kids to call home when they get there, because each of those kids has a real-live-bona-fide Jewish mother, and if the kids don't call us, we will start calling the yeshivah every 15 minutes until we are assured the "baby" is safe, sound and being fed."
I was even more certain of it when he told me he was now off to dinner.
I am sure the yeshivah has them call right before a meal so the kid mentions he will be eating, so that we aren't also worrying about that.
Can you imagine if they have 600 Jewish students - which equals 600 Jewish mothers- which equals at least 1,200 hysterical phone calls over just the first 3 days of school.......
And , no, I have no idea how many students they have, I just pulled that out of a hat.
Actually, my son said something like, " I have to go now to go eat dinner and try to make some friends."
Aaron called me at 1:35 PM.
From Israel.
It was a lousy connection. I know that because I had trouble hearing him.
He also had trouble hearing me, but that doesn't prove anything, since he is deaf.
I asked him if he had gotten a cell phone, because his calling me took me by surprise.
He said "No".
He was using the office phone in the yeshiva.
At first, I thought, "How nice, they let him use it to let me know he has arrived safely."
Then I thought, " Nah, they force each of the kids to call home when they get there, because each of those kids has a real-live-bona-fide Jewish mother, and if the kids don't call us, we will start calling the yeshivah every 15 minutes until we are assured the "baby" is safe, sound and being fed."
I was even more certain of it when he told me he was now off to dinner.
I am sure the yeshivah has them call right before a meal so the kid mentions he will be eating, so that we aren't also worrying about that.
Can you imagine if they have 600 Jewish students - which equals 600 Jewish mothers- which equals at least 1,200 hysterical phone calls over just the first 3 days of school.......
And , no, I have no idea how many students they have, I just pulled that out of a hat.
Actually, my son said something like, " I have to go now to go eat dinner and try to make some friends."
Monday, November 21, 2011
Story of the Day 10/29/2011
I came home , last night, from the wedding, to find that Aaron had made some strategic changes to what had been packed. He had added three more pairs of underwear. And had decided to take the larger backpack, and not the Power Rangers one he had originally selected, and cough drops. No, the cough drops were this morning.
I noticed that he had no shirts in his suitcase
Again? Didn’t’ we do this/ this is worse than de ja vue- this is, “am I fucking losing my mind?’ And I am lying, slightly. There was one shirt packed into the suitcase. One.
“Aaron, where are your white shirts !?” I screamed at him, from 4 feet away.
He is deaf, so I have an excuse for screaming. Not for wringing his neck, but for screaming.
“ They are there.”
I look and he is pointing at a pile on his bed. Nota pile of folded shirts, a pile of …..shirts.
I tell him to fold them and put them in the suitcase.
I grab one and start folding. I put it in the suitcase. I grab another, and see he has folded his shirt, the one he has placed atop the one I folded, and folded isn’t quite the right word. Wadded would be more appropriate a description.
I pick it up and tell him, “I will fold them!” And there was no motherly warmth in my voice.
It was now about midnight, and he would be flying out in….well, after not having gotten enough sleep. And the fucking suitcase had been packed….with all the shirts neatly folded, very, very, very recently.
And I look at his small black carryon. The one he will be checking.
He has not just switched which backpack to put into it, he has added some books.
I try to zip the suitcase. It won’t zip.
It has to zip. He is using this carryon as a carryon until he gets to JFK, then he will put his siddurim ( prayer books) his teffilin, and a pair of socks and underwear into the backpack and use that as a carry on for El AL.
I rearrange everything.
It still wont’ zip.
I rearrange everything a 3rd and a 4th time, but it won’t zip.
I take out two of the books.
I rearrange again.
Closer, but while I am rearranging, I feel something sharp in the backpack. I open up the top, zipped compartment. I find a package of hearing aid batteries, and a nail scissors.
I open up the next compartment, and an overpowering odor of pot, maryjane, marijuana, that shit hits me.
“Aaron, do you want to have your ass hauled off the plane and your body cavities searched? I am sure it will make very good stand up material- AFTER you recover!”
I toss the aromatic backpack into a corner of the room and grab the Power Rangers backpack and put it into the carryon.
I have him stand on the bathroom scale. Then he lifts up the larger suitcase. It s under 50 lbs. barely.
I have him lift up the carryon, it is 27 lbs.
Success!
We go to sleep.
This morning, well, the same morning, but at a slightly less un-godly hour, we shoved him and his suitcases into the car.
After driving for about 35 minutes, parking the car in the overpriced garage and struggling with the self-check in kiosk which refused to acknowledge that Aaron was still breathing, or , at least, that he had a right to the ticket that cost us over a grand, we managed to wave good-bye him, and feel somewhat certain that he might actually make it to Jerusalem, intact and un-molested by security.
I noticed that he had no shirts in his suitcase
Again? Didn’t’ we do this/ this is worse than de ja vue- this is, “am I fucking losing my mind?’ And I am lying, slightly. There was one shirt packed into the suitcase. One.
“Aaron, where are your white shirts !?” I screamed at him, from 4 feet away.
He is deaf, so I have an excuse for screaming. Not for wringing his neck, but for screaming.
“ They are there.”
I look and he is pointing at a pile on his bed. Nota pile of folded shirts, a pile of …..shirts.
I tell him to fold them and put them in the suitcase.
I grab one and start folding. I put it in the suitcase. I grab another, and see he has folded his shirt, the one he has placed atop the one I folded, and folded isn’t quite the right word. Wadded would be more appropriate a description.
I pick it up and tell him, “I will fold them!” And there was no motherly warmth in my voice.
It was now about midnight, and he would be flying out in….well, after not having gotten enough sleep. And the fucking suitcase had been packed….with all the shirts neatly folded, very, very, very recently.
And I look at his small black carryon. The one he will be checking.
He has not just switched which backpack to put into it, he has added some books.
I try to zip the suitcase. It won’t zip.
It has to zip. He is using this carryon as a carryon until he gets to JFK, then he will put his siddurim ( prayer books) his teffilin, and a pair of socks and underwear into the backpack and use that as a carry on for El AL.
I rearrange everything.
It still wont’ zip.
I rearrange everything a 3rd and a 4th time, but it won’t zip.
I take out two of the books.
I rearrange again.
Closer, but while I am rearranging, I feel something sharp in the backpack. I open up the top, zipped compartment. I find a package of hearing aid batteries, and a nail scissors.
I open up the next compartment, and an overpowering odor of pot, maryjane, marijuana, that shit hits me.
“Aaron, do you want to have your ass hauled off the plane and your body cavities searched? I am sure it will make very good stand up material- AFTER you recover!”
I toss the aromatic backpack into a corner of the room and grab the Power Rangers backpack and put it into the carryon.
I have him stand on the bathroom scale. Then he lifts up the larger suitcase. It s under 50 lbs. barely.
I have him lift up the carryon, it is 27 lbs.
Success!
We go to sleep.
This morning, well, the same morning, but at a slightly less un-godly hour, we shoved him and his suitcases into the car.
After driving for about 35 minutes, parking the car in the overpriced garage and struggling with the self-check in kiosk which refused to acknowledge that Aaron was still breathing, or , at least, that he had a right to the ticket that cost us over a grand, we managed to wave good-bye him, and feel somewhat certain that he might actually make it to Jerusalem, intact and un-molested by security.
Story of the Day 10/ 24/ 2011 #2
Last week, my friend had a conference. It wasn't her conference, it was for her son.
For one of her sons. She has a collection of them.
The conference came at the end of a long hard week and she was getting her bunch of boys ready to get out the door.
They all had socks, and breakfast and a reminder to brush their teeth.
Backpacks? Jackets?
Then her middle son came up to her at the kitchen table where she was getting together her papers and purse and other detritus and asked for his morning medication. His ADHD pill.
She looked at the table.
And looked again.
Her other son's pill was there, and hers. Only she had taken hers.
only she hadn't .
She had taken his.
She quickly got another pill out for him.
The morning passed quickly.
She was very energetic. Hyper, even. And felt happy.
She told me that she might just mix the pills up again, if she is having bad day.
For one of her sons. She has a collection of them.
The conference came at the end of a long hard week and she was getting her bunch of boys ready to get out the door.
They all had socks, and breakfast and a reminder to brush their teeth.
Backpacks? Jackets?
Then her middle son came up to her at the kitchen table where she was getting together her papers and purse and other detritus and asked for his morning medication. His ADHD pill.
She looked at the table.
And looked again.
Her other son's pill was there, and hers. Only she had taken hers.
only she hadn't .
She had taken his.
She quickly got another pill out for him.
The morning passed quickly.
She was very energetic. Hyper, even. And felt happy.
She told me that she might just mix the pills up again, if she is having bad day.
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Story of the Day 11/8/2011
Yesterday, there was a substitute teacher for Sarah's two-period afternoon class.
Something was little " off", but it was hard to determine what it was.
Sarah's interpreter had some difficulty communicating with the substitute, but the interaction was very minimal, because Sarah's group was working on a project.
Today, The regularly scheduled teacher was back.
He pulled the interpreter aside and asked her an odd question. He wanted to know if the sub had slept during the afternoon class.
The interpreter was, understandably, surprised.
The teacher has two classes during the morning and , yesterday, the same sub covered both of those for him .
The students in the morning classes had reported to him that this sub put her head down on the desk and spent the class time sleeping.
He wanted to check with Sarah's interpreter, because, unlike his other classes where there are no other adults in the classroom, the interpreter is an adult, and a credible witness.
Sadly, she had nothing that she could tell him.She told him that , in all honesty, she wasn't sure because Sarah's group spent most of the time working in a different room on a video they are making.
His students in his morning classes must have realized that he didn't' think they were entirely credible, however, and , while they may not be, they were certainly creative.
Independently, students in each class decided to document the sub's naps by taking photos of her.
I am sure the photos are now available onYoutube, in case she wants to add them to her resume.
Something was little " off", but it was hard to determine what it was.
Sarah's interpreter had some difficulty communicating with the substitute, but the interaction was very minimal, because Sarah's group was working on a project.
Today, The regularly scheduled teacher was back.
He pulled the interpreter aside and asked her an odd question. He wanted to know if the sub had slept during the afternoon class.
The interpreter was, understandably, surprised.
The teacher has two classes during the morning and , yesterday, the same sub covered both of those for him .
The students in the morning classes had reported to him that this sub put her head down on the desk and spent the class time sleeping.
He wanted to check with Sarah's interpreter, because, unlike his other classes where there are no other adults in the classroom, the interpreter is an adult, and a credible witness.
Sadly, she had nothing that she could tell him.She told him that , in all honesty, she wasn't sure because Sarah's group spent most of the time working in a different room on a video they are making.
His students in his morning classes must have realized that he didn't' think they were entirely credible, however, and , while they may not be, they were certainly creative.
Independently, students in each class decided to document the sub's naps by taking photos of her.
I am sure the photos are now available onYoutube, in case she wants to add them to her resume.
Friday, November 18, 2011
Story of the Day 11/7/2011
My son has mice.
Or, at least , a mouse.
He discovered a mouse in his dorm room at the yeshivah, and , he assured me that while he was scared, he managed to not " scream like a girl."
Since I am a girl and the person in our family who is responsible for trapping and disposing of spiders, mice and other fun things, since none of the mass seem to be up to it, I gave him an look that would have caused most poisonous flora to wither. Of course, since the look was being sent over the telephone, he missed the point of it.
His roommate, the other Aaron from Indiana, who happens to have averted interest in this mouse, since the room it likes is also his bedroom, took my Aaron to the supermarket.
They searched and they searched but were unable to find a mouse trap.
Aaron then went to the man in charge of the dorm and explained the unwanted guest issue.
The rabbi told him that he would get him a mouse trap that would trap the mouse alive and not kill it.
Ever since my son told me about this I have been trying to envision this trap and exactly what the rabbi meant.
Perhaps this is a kinder and gentler yeshivah and they do not want to kill or maim small creatures and they catch their mice and then take them outside and release them.
I am having hard time believing that this is possible, because this kinder and gentler yeshivah happens to serve meat every single night for dinner.
So, I thought what else would they do with this live rodent.....they could release it right outside the back door of their closest rival yeshivah......but that doesn't' seem very " kosher".
They could use the captured rodents for the science experiments and see if they run the mazes faster for Chinese food or for pizza.
If they are Jewish mice it will be Chinese food. Unless the pizza has chocolate on it.
But since they have neither science nor psychology classes, that seems unlikely.
Fortunately, I am not at all concerned that they are planning to cook them up for diner, no matter how expensive meat is in Israel, because rodents are not kosher.
I can see that this might became an interesting topic of conversation about the cultural differences in how mice are treated by Americans and Israelis.
Of course, the there possibility that the rabbi did not explain himself very well and the trap is one of those sticky things, where the mouse is trapped , but still alive, and then the lucky winner of the "I have trapped a mouse " prize gets to either bash its little head in with a brick, or toss the live trapped mouse into the trash can, where it will either starve or suffocate....or if the trash is compacted......
Meanwhile, a very small box can be sent to Israel for only $13.95. I wonder how many mouse traps I can fit into one of them?
Or, at least , a mouse.
He discovered a mouse in his dorm room at the yeshivah, and , he assured me that while he was scared, he managed to not " scream like a girl."
Since I am a girl and the person in our family who is responsible for trapping and disposing of spiders, mice and other fun things, since none of the mass seem to be up to it, I gave him an look that would have caused most poisonous flora to wither. Of course, since the look was being sent over the telephone, he missed the point of it.
His roommate, the other Aaron from Indiana, who happens to have averted interest in this mouse, since the room it likes is also his bedroom, took my Aaron to the supermarket.
They searched and they searched but were unable to find a mouse trap.
Aaron then went to the man in charge of the dorm and explained the unwanted guest issue.
The rabbi told him that he would get him a mouse trap that would trap the mouse alive and not kill it.
Ever since my son told me about this I have been trying to envision this trap and exactly what the rabbi meant.
Perhaps this is a kinder and gentler yeshivah and they do not want to kill or maim small creatures and they catch their mice and then take them outside and release them.
I am having hard time believing that this is possible, because this kinder and gentler yeshivah happens to serve meat every single night for dinner.
So, I thought what else would they do with this live rodent.....they could release it right outside the back door of their closest rival yeshivah......but that doesn't' seem very " kosher".
They could use the captured rodents for the science experiments and see if they run the mazes faster for Chinese food or for pizza.
If they are Jewish mice it will be Chinese food. Unless the pizza has chocolate on it.
But since they have neither science nor psychology classes, that seems unlikely.
Fortunately, I am not at all concerned that they are planning to cook them up for diner, no matter how expensive meat is in Israel, because rodents are not kosher.
I can see that this might became an interesting topic of conversation about the cultural differences in how mice are treated by Americans and Israelis.
Of course, the there possibility that the rabbi did not explain himself very well and the trap is one of those sticky things, where the mouse is trapped , but still alive, and then the lucky winner of the "I have trapped a mouse " prize gets to either bash its little head in with a brick, or toss the live trapped mouse into the trash can, where it will either starve or suffocate....or if the trash is compacted......
Meanwhile, a very small box can be sent to Israel for only $13.95. I wonder how many mouse traps I can fit into one of them?
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Story of the Day 11/5/2011
My friend Susan has three boys . Her life is simplified, at least for the moment, because they are all the same size.
Part of this is due to the fact that two of them are twins.
Susan, a few weeks ago, was sorting laundry and realized that if anyone of them was in a car accident, she would die of shame because their underwear was raggedy. So Susan went out to the store and bought two new packages of 6 pairs of underwear in the correct size, came home, threw out all the old raggedy pairs, and put the nice new underwear in her sons' bureaus.
That was over two weeks ago.
Now in case you are not Jewish or in case you are Jewish and live in a very dark forest and have lost your calendar and all contact with the outside world, two weeks ago was a three day Jewish holiday, that means 3 days of not doing laundry which usually actually translates into 4 days of not doing laundry due to the long list of other things that you have to do to get ready for the holiday.
So, when the holiday was over, Susan was faced with folding and sorting the 4 days worth of laundry that her husband had done; and when she was done sorting and folding, and folding and sorting, she called all three of her sons downstairs and lined them up and showed them an interesting fact.
“You see I have all of these socks ( and she pointed to a large pile) and all of these pants( and she pointed to a similarly large pile) but I only seem to have one pair of underwear. “ Which did not seem to make a very large pile. ” Can you explain this to me.?”
Daniel ,her youngest was the first to answer. This may indicate that he is the brightest, or it may indicate that he is more practiced at defending himself, at any rate he replied, “I have changed my underwear!’
“ Once?” responded his mother with a voice that indicated ......well, that the answer was somehow lacking.
The Bubba , with a voice that declared sudden realization of an amazing fact, “You’ve been hoarding our socks!!"
There was a moment of silence. The silence was due to Susan being stunned by this analysis and by Avi , who was still thinking .
Avi then said, “Yes, Mom, why have you been hoarding our socks?”
Part of this is due to the fact that two of them are twins.
Susan, a few weeks ago, was sorting laundry and realized that if anyone of them was in a car accident, she would die of shame because their underwear was raggedy. So Susan went out to the store and bought two new packages of 6 pairs of underwear in the correct size, came home, threw out all the old raggedy pairs, and put the nice new underwear in her sons' bureaus.
That was over two weeks ago.
Now in case you are not Jewish or in case you are Jewish and live in a very dark forest and have lost your calendar and all contact with the outside world, two weeks ago was a three day Jewish holiday, that means 3 days of not doing laundry which usually actually translates into 4 days of not doing laundry due to the long list of other things that you have to do to get ready for the holiday.
So, when the holiday was over, Susan was faced with folding and sorting the 4 days worth of laundry that her husband had done; and when she was done sorting and folding, and folding and sorting, she called all three of her sons downstairs and lined them up and showed them an interesting fact.
“You see I have all of these socks ( and she pointed to a large pile) and all of these pants( and she pointed to a similarly large pile) but I only seem to have one pair of underwear. “ Which did not seem to make a very large pile. ” Can you explain this to me.?”
Daniel ,her youngest was the first to answer. This may indicate that he is the brightest, or it may indicate that he is more practiced at defending himself, at any rate he replied, “I have changed my underwear!’
“ Once?” responded his mother with a voice that indicated ......well, that the answer was somehow lacking.
The Bubba , with a voice that declared sudden realization of an amazing fact, “You’ve been hoarding our socks!!"
There was a moment of silence. The silence was due to Susan being stunned by this analysis and by Avi , who was still thinking .
Avi then said, “Yes, Mom, why have you been hoarding our socks?”
Monday, November 14, 2011
Story of the day 11/4/2011 #3
Aaron is in Israel.
It has been somewhat of shock to him.
We sent him off with the requisite amount of underwear, all of it clean, and 5 months worth of hearing batteries and his special vibrating alarm clock.
Israels' electrical system operates on a different voltage than ours, so I also sent him with a plug adaptor and a strip with 4 outlets, so he could plug in his various devices.
The first evening, Aaron looked at what I had given him and gave up. He later, wen he called me, told me that i had sent him with the wrong thing,because the black strip doesn't plug into the wall.
I said, " the black strip plugs into the white adaptor. The white things is the adaptor, the black strip just gives you more outlets."
That evening, and I heard about this in his next phone call home, Aaron plugged in the white adaptor. then he plugged his alarm clock into it.
And the lights went out.
His roommate, who incidentally, is named Aaron and is also from Indiana, went down the hall and switched the circuit breaker and came back.
Aaron again tried plugging in his alarm clock.
This time the lights did not go out.
But the alarm clock did not go on.
I asked him if the other Aaron from Indiana was nice. he said, "Yes, he is very nice, and he is also nice enough to wake me up , every morning, since I do not have a (working) alarm clock."
At dinner, on Thursday, or lunch on Friday or whatever meal it was, this time change is making it a little tough on me, a young man came up to aaron and asked him if he was ready to go.
"Go where?'
"You know, the program we talked about."
"We didn't' talk about any program."
"You are Aaron, aren't you?" The young man asks as he stares at my son's ears...I mean hearing aids.
Which, of course , Aaron was.
I mean he was Aaron, he wasn't a pair of hearing aids, although, he was wearing them.
Aaron was also wearing hearing aids, which the other Aaron , who was going somewhere, wears.
And this student had only spoken with the other Aaron on the phone or by text, and thought he had found him, because, after all, how many students in the yeshivah would be wearing hearing aids. and, of course, he was named Aaron......
So , now, Aaron is on the look out for another kid with hearing aids, named Aaron, so he can ask him what he is doing for an alarm clock and if he is also from Indiana.
It has been somewhat of shock to him.
We sent him off with the requisite amount of underwear, all of it clean, and 5 months worth of hearing batteries and his special vibrating alarm clock.
Israels' electrical system operates on a different voltage than ours, so I also sent him with a plug adaptor and a strip with 4 outlets, so he could plug in his various devices.
The first evening, Aaron looked at what I had given him and gave up. He later, wen he called me, told me that i had sent him with the wrong thing,because the black strip doesn't plug into the wall.
I said, " the black strip plugs into the white adaptor. The white things is the adaptor, the black strip just gives you more outlets."
That evening, and I heard about this in his next phone call home, Aaron plugged in the white adaptor. then he plugged his alarm clock into it.
And the lights went out.
His roommate, who incidentally, is named Aaron and is also from Indiana, went down the hall and switched the circuit breaker and came back.
Aaron again tried plugging in his alarm clock.
This time the lights did not go out.
But the alarm clock did not go on.
I asked him if the other Aaron from Indiana was nice. he said, "Yes, he is very nice, and he is also nice enough to wake me up , every morning, since I do not have a (working) alarm clock."
At dinner, on Thursday, or lunch on Friday or whatever meal it was, this time change is making it a little tough on me, a young man came up to aaron and asked him if he was ready to go.
"Go where?'
"You know, the program we talked about."
"We didn't' talk about any program."
"You are Aaron, aren't you?" The young man asks as he stares at my son's ears...I mean hearing aids.
Which, of course , Aaron was.
I mean he was Aaron, he wasn't a pair of hearing aids, although, he was wearing them.
Aaron was also wearing hearing aids, which the other Aaron , who was going somewhere, wears.
And this student had only spoken with the other Aaron on the phone or by text, and thought he had found him, because, after all, how many students in the yeshivah would be wearing hearing aids. and, of course, he was named Aaron......
So , now, Aaron is on the look out for another kid with hearing aids, named Aaron, so he can ask him what he is doing for an alarm clock and if he is also from Indiana.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Story of the Day 11/ 4/ 2011 #2
Sarah was standing in the hallway with Erin.
Sarah is the only Deaf student in the school, but a few of her friends can sign to some degree.
Erin asked Sarah, "I thought that in Deaf culture, it is rude to stare at people when they are signing."
"It is", said Sarah.
"Wow, it sucks that everybody still stare at you."
Sarah replied, "Nah, it is ok because I'm the holy one."
In ASL this is a pun- it ( holy) is the same as signing "unique".
Sarah is the only Deaf student in the school, but a few of her friends can sign to some degree.
Erin asked Sarah, "I thought that in Deaf culture, it is rude to stare at people when they are signing."
"It is", said Sarah.
"Wow, it sucks that everybody still stare at you."
Sarah replied, "Nah, it is ok because I'm the holy one."
In ASL this is a pun- it ( holy) is the same as signing "unique".
Story of the day 11/4/2011 #1
Sarah arrived home from school, early. Earlier than I expected.
She told me, "I got a ride from Lisa."
Sarah paused, "From Lisa and Erin. Lisa was driving."
They are sisters, and they share a car, so I was glad to know that Lisa had not forgotten and left Erin at school.
"We were on Springmill, and Lisa asked me the name of the street to turn on. I told her, it is a very short street, I don't think it has a name."
It did, it does, they found it, and I do not think that Sarah will ever forget the name of the street.
She told me, "I got a ride from Lisa."
Sarah paused, "From Lisa and Erin. Lisa was driving."
They are sisters, and they share a car, so I was glad to know that Lisa had not forgotten and left Erin at school.
"We were on Springmill, and Lisa asked me the name of the street to turn on. I told her, it is a very short street, I don't think it has a name."
It did, it does, they found it, and I do not think that Sarah will ever forget the name of the street.
Friday, November 11, 2011
Story of the Day 11/ 2/2011 #2
Sarah has a friend who visits her in her study hall, in the Learning Center.
Dana, the same friend from yesterday's Story of the Day.
Sarah, now that it was 10th period and her classes were done for the day, was feeling rather light-hearted.
She put her hands out in front of her and flexed the fingers.
Dana asked, "What are you doing?"
"I am playing air -piano," Sarah replied, and then she very dramatically tossed her thick curls and went into a very spirited rendition of someone really pounding those ivories.
"You are very WEIRD!"exclaimed Dane.
A moment later, she added, "It is just like the movie- The Adams family!'
Sarah had to think a minute. "Oh, the hand that plays the piano! Yeah!"
"That is a really weird family!" said Dana.
"No, they are not weird. They are normal." came Sarah's reply.
"Oh yes they are very weird!" insisted Dana.
"They are just like my family!" Sarah proudly proclaimed.
Dana drew back and her face took on a somewhat horrified countenance, "I don't ever want to meet your family."
I hate to tell Dana, but I think we are probably a lot weirder than the Addams family, except that we don't have a hand that plays the piano. Although, we do have a deaf kid who does. As long as it is an air-piano.
Dana, the same friend from yesterday's Story of the Day.
Sarah, now that it was 10th period and her classes were done for the day, was feeling rather light-hearted.
She put her hands out in front of her and flexed the fingers.
Dana asked, "What are you doing?"
"I am playing air -piano," Sarah replied, and then she very dramatically tossed her thick curls and went into a very spirited rendition of someone really pounding those ivories.
"You are very WEIRD!"exclaimed Dane.
A moment later, she added, "It is just like the movie- The Adams family!'
Sarah had to think a minute. "Oh, the hand that plays the piano! Yeah!"
"That is a really weird family!" said Dana.
"No, they are not weird. They are normal." came Sarah's reply.
"Oh yes they are very weird!" insisted Dana.
"They are just like my family!" Sarah proudly proclaimed.
Dana drew back and her face took on a somewhat horrified countenance, "I don't ever want to meet your family."
I hate to tell Dana, but I think we are probably a lot weirder than the Addams family, except that we don't have a hand that plays the piano. Although, we do have a deaf kid who does. As long as it is an air-piano.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Story of the Day 11/ 2 / 2011
Dinner was an array of somewhat healthy vegetarian fare.
Somewhat healthy because the bacon on the back lettuce and tomato sandwiches was Morningstar soy bacon, but it still had it's share of fat, as did the mayonnaise, as did the dressing on the sale, which had it in the form of an entire avocado mashed up and mixed in with the garlic and lemon juice to make the dressing.
A lot of fat, but preferring to believe that it's as mostly heart-healthy fat, and therefore somehow virtuous, I decided that a small after dinner treat would not be undeserved.
My husband and my daughter, Sarah, were also finishing up the food on their plates, and I signed, "I hear something, I hear something calling my name. It is the chocolate. It is calling 'Cassia, Cassia, come get me."
My husband smiled.
He signed, "Funny, I am hearing something also, but I think it is the chocolate cake calling to me."
"Funny, I don't hear anything," signed Sarah, who is deaf.
Somewhat healthy because the bacon on the back lettuce and tomato sandwiches was Morningstar soy bacon, but it still had it's share of fat, as did the mayonnaise, as did the dressing on the sale, which had it in the form of an entire avocado mashed up and mixed in with the garlic and lemon juice to make the dressing.
A lot of fat, but preferring to believe that it's as mostly heart-healthy fat, and therefore somehow virtuous, I decided that a small after dinner treat would not be undeserved.
My husband and my daughter, Sarah, were also finishing up the food on their plates, and I signed, "I hear something, I hear something calling my name. It is the chocolate. It is calling 'Cassia, Cassia, come get me."
My husband smiled.
He signed, "Funny, I am hearing something also, but I think it is the chocolate cake calling to me."
"Funny, I don't hear anything," signed Sarah, who is deaf.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Story of the Day 11/1/2011
Sarah and Dana were speaking in the Learning Center. The Learning center is a "serious" version of study hall. It is Sarah's 10th period non-class, and Dana, who is eager to learn more ASL, comes to it from the Library and practices signing with Sarah, every day.
Dana and Sarah were signing away and Dana was laughing. Loudly.
Apparently Dana has a loud laugh.
One of the Learning Center staff came over and made it clear to the interpreter that the laughing had to stop because this was the Learning Center and the girls were obviously not working.
The interpreter told her that the girls were, indeed, working. Sarah was teaching Dana ASL.
The woman said, "That is not true, I can see that they are having fun!"
"Well," countered the interpreter, "they are having fun!"
The woman stalked off.
Dana wondered why the woman addressed all of this to the interpreter.
"Because she thinks you are Deaf." Sarah replied.
"Why would she think that?"
"Well, people always think my mom is deaf when we are signing to one another in the store, and then, if they need to say something to her they start waving their arms around. And when my mom starts talking to them and asks them what they are trying to say, they stand there and look stunned."
"They do?"
Not only do they do that, but as I told Sarah, when she related this story to me, years ago, when Aaron was 5 and 6 and 7, he loved to talk. This was the very same deaf boy that the Deaf School refused to provide speech therapy for because, according to them, he was too deaf to benefit from it and learn spoken English and I had to accept that.
The problem is that Aaron didn't accept it. He loved to talk. Using Spoken English.
The problem was that he is deaf and at that age his speech reading skills and his auditory skills with his hearing aids were not quite good enough to let him follow a conversation in Spoken English. At least not an intelligent one.
What we usually ended up doing is that I would sign to him and he would speak, in English, to me.
This caused lot of confusion. not for us, but for other people.
Numerous times, we would be at a store or the library and someone would come over and say to Aaron, "Can you tell your mother...." or " Can you ask your mother..."
When he was the one who couldn't hear.
Dana and Sarah were signing away and Dana was laughing. Loudly.
Apparently Dana has a loud laugh.
One of the Learning Center staff came over and made it clear to the interpreter that the laughing had to stop because this was the Learning Center and the girls were obviously not working.
The interpreter told her that the girls were, indeed, working. Sarah was teaching Dana ASL.
The woman said, "That is not true, I can see that they are having fun!"
"Well," countered the interpreter, "they are having fun!"
The woman stalked off.
Dana wondered why the woman addressed all of this to the interpreter.
"Because she thinks you are Deaf." Sarah replied.
"Why would she think that?"
"Well, people always think my mom is deaf when we are signing to one another in the store, and then, if they need to say something to her they start waving their arms around. And when my mom starts talking to them and asks them what they are trying to say, they stand there and look stunned."
"They do?"
Not only do they do that, but as I told Sarah, when she related this story to me, years ago, when Aaron was 5 and 6 and 7, he loved to talk. This was the very same deaf boy that the Deaf School refused to provide speech therapy for because, according to them, he was too deaf to benefit from it and learn spoken English and I had to accept that.
The problem is that Aaron didn't accept it. He loved to talk. Using Spoken English.
The problem was that he is deaf and at that age his speech reading skills and his auditory skills with his hearing aids were not quite good enough to let him follow a conversation in Spoken English. At least not an intelligent one.
What we usually ended up doing is that I would sign to him and he would speak, in English, to me.
This caused lot of confusion. not for us, but for other people.
Numerous times, we would be at a store or the library and someone would come over and say to Aaron, "Can you tell your mother...." or " Can you ask your mother..."
When he was the one who couldn't hear.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Story of the Day 10/27/2011
Sarah's English class is Film - American Films and Literature. They have a textbook that could choke a pony. Not a horse, that would be her pre-calculus textbook. But this one is not lightweight and the teacher requires them to take copius notes.
Sarah has spent the afternoon taking notes on a section called "Tone".
There is implicit and explicit tone.
There are a lot of politics involved.
Things can be "campy" or presented from two different viewpoints.
Sometimes, the musical score helps you to decipher what the tone is.
For example, according to the textbook, "Music is a common way to establish a movie's tone. A music track consisting of rock 'roll will be very different in tone from a picture that's accompanied by Mozart or Ray Charles...."
Additionally, "voice-overs can be ironic". Or a narrator's voice can convey tone, like the "thug" narrating A Clockwork Orange.
I can tell that this might be a rather hard chapter for Sarah, or, at least the application of it.
What if the teacher wants them to determine the tone of a movie taking this into account?
Acording to the book, in Blue Velvet, a scene in which the character is presented visually as angelic, talking about ideal things and her hair lit as to create a halo effect, we are to understand the fact that her naiveté is being mocked because of the background organ music.
I mentioned the obstacles of understanding this to Sarah.
She replied that she knows the difference between Mozart and Rock 'n Roll.
"You do? What is the difference?"
"One is louder than the other."
Sarah has spent the afternoon taking notes on a section called "Tone".
There is implicit and explicit tone.
There are a lot of politics involved.
Things can be "campy" or presented from two different viewpoints.
Sometimes, the musical score helps you to decipher what the tone is.
For example, according to the textbook, "Music is a common way to establish a movie's tone. A music track consisting of rock 'roll will be very different in tone from a picture that's accompanied by Mozart or Ray Charles...."
Additionally, "voice-overs can be ironic". Or a narrator's voice can convey tone, like the "thug" narrating A Clockwork Orange.
I can tell that this might be a rather hard chapter for Sarah, or, at least the application of it.
What if the teacher wants them to determine the tone of a movie taking this into account?
Acording to the book, in Blue Velvet, a scene in which the character is presented visually as angelic, talking about ideal things and her hair lit as to create a halo effect, we are to understand the fact that her naiveté is being mocked because of the background organ music.
I mentioned the obstacles of understanding this to Sarah.
She replied that she knows the difference between Mozart and Rock 'n Roll.
"You do? What is the difference?"
"One is louder than the other."
Monday, November 7, 2011
Story of the Day 10/25/2011
Today was very educational.
For Sarah.
Her interpreter is away, and the school had arranged for a substitute interpreter.
That interpreter contacted the school, on Monday and let them know that she could not come.
So the school got a sub interpreter for the sub interpreter.
This morning, early this morning, very early this morning, that interpreter called the resource teacher and explained that he could not make it.
So, Sarah arrived at school today and found out there was no interpreter.
Sarah's first class is pre-calculus. Like most math classes, most of the important things are taught by being demonstrated step by step on the board.
For this class, her resource teacher who has some basic signing skills , but is not smiled enough to interpret a lecture, was able to "terp it". After the first period was done, Sarah spent the rest of the morning in the resource room.
Then Sarah went to lunch.
After lunch Sarah has Animation and Film production. It is a two period class ( lasts for almost 2 full hours) and they are in the middle of doing group projects.
Well, that is not exactly right, Everyone else is in the middle of doing a group project. Sarah is in the middle of doing two group projects, and trying not to let anyone know it.
At any rate, the resource teacher came along and sort of termed what she could for both of the groups.
Oh, gee, gosh, I forgot to ask Sarah if she explained to the resource teacher about how she managed to be in two different groups. And how she is keeping everyone, at least for the moment, from finding out about it.
The one group is going well.
The other group is not.
It is not going at all.
It as stalled out because of the reason that Sarah left it. Unsuccessfully.
And today, the resource teacher got to experience all of the charm, first hand.
Today, the Jeffrey-Dahmer-Wanna-Be was being...himself.
He kept trying to take over the group and have it do some rather nasty deeply horrifying project.
And Josh, one of the other boys in the group, was managing very icily to keep telling him, "No."
Of course, all the back and forth created no forward motion, but I am, from what Sarah described to me, very impressed by how Josh handled himself. "No" repeatedly at intervals, firmly and appropriately.
At this age, I would probably have shrunk back into the furniture and winced a. A lot.
Then the JDWB elected to get...aggressive. And obnoxious. And kept burping right into Josh's face.
While Josh kept telling him not to.
And, then, Mr. JDWB started relating all about another one of his idols. Jack the Ripper. And admiring the fact that he had managed to slaughter a large number of people.
Since this was the only class that Sarah attended in its entirety, today, (other than her first period class), and since it was a full two periods, this made up the bulk of what she learned, today.
As I said, it was very educational.
Your tax dollars at work.
I suspect it was rather educational for her resource teacher, as well.
For Sarah.
Her interpreter is away, and the school had arranged for a substitute interpreter.
That interpreter contacted the school, on Monday and let them know that she could not come.
So the school got a sub interpreter for the sub interpreter.
This morning, early this morning, very early this morning, that interpreter called the resource teacher and explained that he could not make it.
So, Sarah arrived at school today and found out there was no interpreter.
Sarah's first class is pre-calculus. Like most math classes, most of the important things are taught by being demonstrated step by step on the board.
For this class, her resource teacher who has some basic signing skills , but is not smiled enough to interpret a lecture, was able to "terp it". After the first period was done, Sarah spent the rest of the morning in the resource room.
Then Sarah went to lunch.
After lunch Sarah has Animation and Film production. It is a two period class ( lasts for almost 2 full hours) and they are in the middle of doing group projects.
Well, that is not exactly right, Everyone else is in the middle of doing a group project. Sarah is in the middle of doing two group projects, and trying not to let anyone know it.
At any rate, the resource teacher came along and sort of termed what she could for both of the groups.
Oh, gee, gosh, I forgot to ask Sarah if she explained to the resource teacher about how she managed to be in two different groups. And how she is keeping everyone, at least for the moment, from finding out about it.
The one group is going well.
The other group is not.
It is not going at all.
It as stalled out because of the reason that Sarah left it. Unsuccessfully.
And today, the resource teacher got to experience all of the charm, first hand.
Today, the Jeffrey-Dahmer-Wanna-Be was being...himself.
He kept trying to take over the group and have it do some rather nasty deeply horrifying project.
And Josh, one of the other boys in the group, was managing very icily to keep telling him, "No."
Of course, all the back and forth created no forward motion, but I am, from what Sarah described to me, very impressed by how Josh handled himself. "No" repeatedly at intervals, firmly and appropriately.
At this age, I would probably have shrunk back into the furniture and winced a. A lot.
Then the JDWB elected to get...aggressive. And obnoxious. And kept burping right into Josh's face.
While Josh kept telling him not to.
And, then, Mr. JDWB started relating all about another one of his idols. Jack the Ripper. And admiring the fact that he had managed to slaughter a large number of people.
Since this was the only class that Sarah attended in its entirety, today, (other than her first period class), and since it was a full two periods, this made up the bulk of what she learned, today.
As I said, it was very educational.
Your tax dollars at work.
I suspect it was rather educational for her resource teacher, as well.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Story of the Day 10/24/2011
Today's story started a week ago.
A week ago, on Wednesday, Sarah's Animation and Film teacher tod the students to divide up into groups to do project. They were to make a 1 minute trailer for a film.
Sarah got into group with two guys and they started brainstorming.
On Thursday, the JDwannaBe came to class, he had been absent, Wednesday,and he eagerly joined the group sarah was in.
At the next free moment, Sarah sidled up to the teacher and asked if she could change groups.
This was not work on a trailer for a cartoon or a comedy or a romance, this was work on a trailer for a horror film, with the guy who wants to grow up and become the next Jeffrey Dahmer.
The teacher asked her why she wanted to switch groups. She explain that this guy had just joined the one she was in. The teacher winced and gave her his approval.
So, on Wednesday she worked with the new group.
On Wednesday, last week, which was her last day at school that week, due to her being absent for Jewish holidays on Thursday and Friday, she was working with group number two, and one of the kids from group number one came up and asked if she was going to help them with the editing. That group was diving up the work. Sarah figured that she was faster and better at editing than the other kids in the group and that it would not involve interacting with JDWB, so she said, "Okay."
So, now she was working in both groups.
Today, she went back to school and, as it turned out, the first grow didn't manage to get anything videotaped, last week, on Thursday or Friday, so one of the normal guys asked sarah if she would do a couple of things in front of the camera. Apparently, they hadn't figured out that she was actually working with the other group she was sitting with.
Sarah realized they really needed the help and went and worked with them. Then she came back and worked with the second group. Also on camera.
I have always wanted to have twins. Well, not twin Elys....I would have pulled all of my hair out and wasted away from lack of sleep, but twins of any of the others. And now I have them, sort of. Sarah has decided to be two people. Sarah of group one and Sarah of group two.
But, now she will actually be on the trailers for both groups.
She is worried that when the class views them, the kids in group one will see her in the trailer for group two and the kids from group two will see her in the trailer for group one, and she will get in trouble.
And the teacher will not like it,
and.....
although, no one can say she is lazy.
A week ago, on Wednesday, Sarah's Animation and Film teacher tod the students to divide up into groups to do project. They were to make a 1 minute trailer for a film.
Sarah got into group with two guys and they started brainstorming.
On Thursday, the JDwannaBe came to class, he had been absent, Wednesday,and he eagerly joined the group sarah was in.
At the next free moment, Sarah sidled up to the teacher and asked if she could change groups.
This was not work on a trailer for a cartoon or a comedy or a romance, this was work on a trailer for a horror film, with the guy who wants to grow up and become the next Jeffrey Dahmer.
The teacher asked her why she wanted to switch groups. She explain that this guy had just joined the one she was in. The teacher winced and gave her his approval.
So, on Wednesday she worked with the new group.
On Wednesday, last week, which was her last day at school that week, due to her being absent for Jewish holidays on Thursday and Friday, she was working with group number two, and one of the kids from group number one came up and asked if she was going to help them with the editing. That group was diving up the work. Sarah figured that she was faster and better at editing than the other kids in the group and that it would not involve interacting with JDWB, so she said, "Okay."
So, now she was working in both groups.
Today, she went back to school and, as it turned out, the first grow didn't manage to get anything videotaped, last week, on Thursday or Friday, so one of the normal guys asked sarah if she would do a couple of things in front of the camera. Apparently, they hadn't figured out that she was actually working with the other group she was sitting with.
Sarah realized they really needed the help and went and worked with them. Then she came back and worked with the second group. Also on camera.
I have always wanted to have twins. Well, not twin Elys....I would have pulled all of my hair out and wasted away from lack of sleep, but twins of any of the others. And now I have them, sort of. Sarah has decided to be two people. Sarah of group one and Sarah of group two.
But, now she will actually be on the trailers for both groups.
She is worried that when the class views them, the kids in group one will see her in the trailer for group two and the kids from group two will see her in the trailer for group one, and she will get in trouble.
And the teacher will not like it,
and.....
although, no one can say she is lazy.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Story of the Day 10/20/2011
My friend Susan has quite a collection of kids.
Four of them, but, at times, it feels like many more. Especially when they are picking on one another. Or picking on her.
Apparently, one of their favorite things to annoy one another and to annoy their mother is to poke.
Index finger, poking and poking and poking.
Susan, after being the object of this attention by her daughter said, “When you are a parent and your child does this to you, I want you to call me.”
Sarah he daughter, looked right at her and said, “My child wont’ do that.”
“And why not?”
“Because I will slap him.”
Susan, a couple of decades older and wiser said, “we’ll see.”
Then, one of her son’s started doing it.
“Just wait until your child does that to you!” Susan said to him.
“ I am not having any children. I am going to be one of those bachelor guys who lives down the street,” replied Avi.
And after a pause, he added, “ I am going to have cats.”
”Cats? How many cats?
”28”
“Then you are going to be the crazy bachelor guy who lives down the street.”
Susan told me this story while we were praying. I mean during services, I mean while we were supposed to be praying, or maybe listening to the Torah being read or something like that.
If you haven’t figured it out, I have been a bad influence on Susan.
Susan was not the sort of kid who got into a lot of trouble when she was in school for doing things like reading a novel during math class, or forgetting the teacher was lecturing and standing on her desk and trying to see if her finger would fit into the space of the ice cube tray florescence light cover.
She was the sort of kid who probably got straight A’s and nice comments on her reports cards like “ a pleasure to have in class”.
She even looks innocent.
Of course, that was before she had me as her friend and found out that ADD is contagious.
Hopefully, she at least thinks this is more fun.
So, she told me this during services, and then after services, I had to share the 23 cat story.
I would have shared it during services, but it was really my husband’s story, so , I told him to tell it, after services when we were eating lunch.
Most synagogues have Kiddush- a light snack- after morning services on Saturday.
Our synagogue happens to have its priorities straight.
We have lunch.
Many years ago, when I had quite a lot less grey hair and my husband was clean-shaven, we lived in Zanesville, Ohio
No, this is not a joke.
We lived there and he had, in his practice, a patient who had 23 cats.
This same patient was also very hard of hearing.
My husband would yell things at him like” How have you been doing?”
And he would yell back, “ What did you say, Doc?”
My husband related this to me, as an amusing anecdote of his work experiences, and then, one day, I found out who the patient was.
You see, my husband told me those two things, but never shared the name of the patient, or what his health needs were, or even how old he was or his race. Gosh, he didn’t even tell me if he was a Republican or Democrat, but since it was Zanesville and our re-elect John Glenn sign kept disappearing from our yard and had to be replaced on an almost daily basis, I figured he probably was a Republican.
I wasn’t basing this on the high mortality rate of our yard signs, based on the fact that the only other John Glenn signs in the city were the one across the street from us, and the one in front of a house one block from us.
We Democrats were a very endangered species, in that neck of the woods.
There was actually a second part to this story.
Yeah, the story I seem to have wandered away from.
The 23 cat part.
This guy was ill , one time, and Larry’s nurse was a very sweet and kind, and Midwestern, and she went and got his prescriptions filled and then stopped at his house to drop them off.
Apparently, she had to knock and ring and knock and ring, because his hearing, I mean his not hearing, extended to knocking and to doorbells.
Eventually, he realized someone was at the door and opened it.
And the blast of “ cat” hit her, when he opened to door, and she almost passed out.
At any rate, his identity was uncovered, one day, when we went to one of the two grocery stores on the north side of Zanesville.
Zanesville is laid out as a very tall and narrow rectangle, so if you live on the north side, that means, as far as you were concerned, back then, that there were only two grocery stores, well, and a meat market.
Since we were vegetarians, at that time, we’ll call it an even two grocery stores.
I assume there was a place to buy groceries on the Southside of town, but since I only ever went down there when I had gotten lost….
So, there we were at the grocery store, and this guy noticed my husband and made his way over to us, and to the shopping cart my husband was pushing. My husband said, “Hello” and pointed to our extremely hyperactive 2 year old seated in the shopping cart he was pushing and introduced our daughter.
By shouting.
The man then shouted back, “What did you say, Doc?”
But that is not the important part of the story; the important part was what it means to be the old bachelor guy with 28, not just 23 cats.
Not just the crazy bachelor guy down the street,
But the crazy, smelly bachelor guy down the street.
Four of them, but, at times, it feels like many more. Especially when they are picking on one another. Or picking on her.
Apparently, one of their favorite things to annoy one another and to annoy their mother is to poke.
Index finger, poking and poking and poking.
Susan, after being the object of this attention by her daughter said, “When you are a parent and your child does this to you, I want you to call me.”
Sarah he daughter, looked right at her and said, “My child wont’ do that.”
“And why not?”
“Because I will slap him.”
Susan, a couple of decades older and wiser said, “we’ll see.”
Then, one of her son’s started doing it.
“Just wait until your child does that to you!” Susan said to him.
“ I am not having any children. I am going to be one of those bachelor guys who lives down the street,” replied Avi.
And after a pause, he added, “ I am going to have cats.”
”Cats? How many cats?
”28”
“Then you are going to be the crazy bachelor guy who lives down the street.”
Susan told me this story while we were praying. I mean during services, I mean while we were supposed to be praying, or maybe listening to the Torah being read or something like that.
If you haven’t figured it out, I have been a bad influence on Susan.
Susan was not the sort of kid who got into a lot of trouble when she was in school for doing things like reading a novel during math class, or forgetting the teacher was lecturing and standing on her desk and trying to see if her finger would fit into the space of the ice cube tray florescence light cover.
She was the sort of kid who probably got straight A’s and nice comments on her reports cards like “ a pleasure to have in class”.
She even looks innocent.
Of course, that was before she had me as her friend and found out that ADD is contagious.
Hopefully, she at least thinks this is more fun.
So, she told me this during services, and then after services, I had to share the 23 cat story.
I would have shared it during services, but it was really my husband’s story, so , I told him to tell it, after services when we were eating lunch.
Most synagogues have Kiddush- a light snack- after morning services on Saturday.
Our synagogue happens to have its priorities straight.
We have lunch.
Many years ago, when I had quite a lot less grey hair and my husband was clean-shaven, we lived in Zanesville, Ohio
No, this is not a joke.
We lived there and he had, in his practice, a patient who had 23 cats.
This same patient was also very hard of hearing.
My husband would yell things at him like” How have you been doing?”
And he would yell back, “ What did you say, Doc?”
My husband related this to me, as an amusing anecdote of his work experiences, and then, one day, I found out who the patient was.
You see, my husband told me those two things, but never shared the name of the patient, or what his health needs were, or even how old he was or his race. Gosh, he didn’t even tell me if he was a Republican or Democrat, but since it was Zanesville and our re-elect John Glenn sign kept disappearing from our yard and had to be replaced on an almost daily basis, I figured he probably was a Republican.
I wasn’t basing this on the high mortality rate of our yard signs, based on the fact that the only other John Glenn signs in the city were the one across the street from us, and the one in front of a house one block from us.
We Democrats were a very endangered species, in that neck of the woods.
There was actually a second part to this story.
Yeah, the story I seem to have wandered away from.
The 23 cat part.
This guy was ill , one time, and Larry’s nurse was a very sweet and kind, and Midwestern, and she went and got his prescriptions filled and then stopped at his house to drop them off.
Apparently, she had to knock and ring and knock and ring, because his hearing, I mean his not hearing, extended to knocking and to doorbells.
Eventually, he realized someone was at the door and opened it.
And the blast of “ cat” hit her, when he opened to door, and she almost passed out.
At any rate, his identity was uncovered, one day, when we went to one of the two grocery stores on the north side of Zanesville.
Zanesville is laid out as a very tall and narrow rectangle, so if you live on the north side, that means, as far as you were concerned, back then, that there were only two grocery stores, well, and a meat market.
Since we were vegetarians, at that time, we’ll call it an even two grocery stores.
I assume there was a place to buy groceries on the Southside of town, but since I only ever went down there when I had gotten lost….
So, there we were at the grocery store, and this guy noticed my husband and made his way over to us, and to the shopping cart my husband was pushing. My husband said, “Hello” and pointed to our extremely hyperactive 2 year old seated in the shopping cart he was pushing and introduced our daughter.
By shouting.
The man then shouted back, “What did you say, Doc?”
But that is not the important part of the story; the important part was what it means to be the old bachelor guy with 28, not just 23 cats.
Not just the crazy bachelor guy down the street,
But the crazy, smelly bachelor guy down the street.
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