The Mom of No has been busy these past few weeks- I've been going on road trips through fly-over states delivering the College Student back to her university (once the luggage was dropped on the dorm room floor, I was bid farewell; sniff sob sniff. Don't feel too badly for me; I did what every dismissed parent of a college sophomore does on move-in day: I found a park and went birding), working, reading books, hanging out on the nature trail, and getting the Son of Never Stops Eating acclimated to a new campus for his junior year. I've also been doing some deep thinking- road trips tend to do that to me. Something about watching those mile markers go by on the interstate brings out the philosopher in me.
I should probably warn you up front that any time I do deep road trip thinking I tend to get myself into trouble, at least with people who don't know me well, and sometimes with people who do, and sometimes I make comments about politics or uncomfortable social issues, and if that's just not your thing at the moment then go no further. Ok, that's the disclaimer. Onward.
Our local school district is in the midst of something they're calling a Kindness Initiative. Now, I don't want anyone to interpret anything I say as meaning that people should just be jerks to each other, because I definitely don't think that. However, we're in year 2 of the Kindness Initiative, and as far as I can tell, The Son of Never Stops Eating has made exactly zero actual friends (and by friends I mean kids he hangs out with outside of school) from the general ed student population, so the Special Needs Mom in me doesn't have 100% buy-in on the Kindness initiative. I'm about to reach the big 5-0 and suffering from a heavy dose of cynicism mixed in with hot flashes and panic about my golden years caused by a sudden increase in e-mails asking me if I've thought about saving for retirement, so take that into consideration when you judge me for that last statement.
I don't want to criticize an entity for trying to be kinder. That's almost like judging baby animals for not being cute enough. But "kindness" seems to be the cool word of the year. When I hear it, I wonder if kindness initiatives will lead to authentic inclusion, or if it will just lead to people being nice to my son because they feel like they're required to do it, or because it makes them feel better about themselves, or so they can include their kindness activities on a scholarship essay. When I think like this, my first instinct is to feel like I'm being ungrateful. A little kindness is better than no kindness. Then I wonder how those of us raising special needs kids got so conditioned to accept so little; the message is that we should be happy about the lonely boy who had the celebrity sit and have lunch with him, or the special-needs girl who made the cheerleading squad, and not ask why these kinds of events are still big news.
I've been thinking of kindness as a spectrum: momentary kindness, which is when you buy someone a latte or help them carry their groceries to their car and then you never see them again (extra points if you post about it on Facebook later), or hypocritical kindness, which is when someone posts a meme on Facebook about how we just need to be kind to each other and then their next post is a statement about how if illegal immigrant teenaged girls don't want to go without menstrual supplies they shouldn't come here in the first place, so the idea of kindness is really more like "we should be kind to people who have the same color skin and go to the same churches and live in the same neighborhoods and who don't stir the pot with that LGBTQ nonsense and everyone else can go stick it".
I suspect that at least some calls for kindness are essentially a way of saying "the world is just f****d up beyond all belief and I want to do or say something but I don't know what I can say that won't piss someone off on my friends list or one of my relatives but how can you argue with kindness?". As a former adolescent, my own life would probably have been considerably easier if certain of my peers had been less unkind, so once again- I'm not advocating being mean, or cruel, or even just not doing anything. I'm not anti-kindness. However, human beings seem to want simple solutions to complex problem- and kindness isn't going to solve very many of the problems we're facing unless we are ready to go for sacrificial kindness- in which we are willing to give up something a lot more than a few moments of time, a few dollars, or a smile. Kindness is a way of being, but it isn't exclusive (kids can be smart and good athletes and kind, you don't have to pick one) and it isn't a solution to most of our deep-rooted problems.
Perhaps I would feel better about kindness as a popular concept if it generated the sort of thinking that led to real change- for example, is a health care system that requires sick people to ask for funding by crowdsourcing really kind? Is a society kind when its children go to schools with inadequate funding and leaky ceilings and poor ventilation? Is it kind to present choices as "either/or" when if we wanted to, we have the resources to do both? We want each other to be kind, but it doesn't seem to be a criterion we use as a basis for deciding who to cast ballots for.
Because I am not a complete cynic (yet), I also believe in genuine kindness- people for whom this characteristic is so innate, everything they do seems to have kindness and love for other people and their communities embedded in it. I am not this person, but I know people who are, and I admire them for it. I suppose we can all strive to be a little kinder, and make the world a little bit better (I like to think that every piece of trash I pick up on the trail is generating positive vibes in the world); kindness is not a solution in itself to all our problems, but it is a small part of getting to those solutions.
Sunday, September 29, 2019
Thursday, September 26, 2019
Late Summer Slump
Mom, the Son of Never Stops Eating sighed a few days ago, I'm tired of being hot. I wish it were October already. I'm done with summer.
I feel you, kid. I really do. The Mom of No likes the heat- most of the time. In mid-summer, I can walk down the trails and see dragonflies everywhere, which makes being drenched in sweat worthwhile. But in late September, it seems like the heat should go, already. Rain has been scarce and everything is dry and brown, and the dragonflies have left (mostly), except for a few elderly scarred stragglers and a bunch of common green darners. As I walk down the trail, grasshoppers fly everywhere, announcing my arrival to anything that happens to be lurking around. A stealthy approach is just not possible. Thanks for nothing, grasshoppers.
I'm in a prolonged late summer slump, brought on only partially by the paucity of observations on my favorite trail; it seems like this year there is less to see, although that could be because I've forgotten that it is like this every year, or that this year it's particularly parched, or that I've been reading about the decline of birds and insects and seeing only grasshoppers instead of common buckeyes and Gulf fritillaries and Queen butterflies is reinforcing what I've read. I am fascinated with the intricate beauty of butterflies and dragonflies; a future world in which small children will never see a dragonfly and then think of winged fairies is not something I really want to consider.
Soon enough, the Mom of No will celebrate that half-century milestone birthday, and the feeling is strong that if I want to do something, now is probably a good time to do it. However, the practical side of me then asserts itself to state that most of what I really want to do involves a lot of time or a lot of money (or both), so there's the realization that maybe I should pare down the list just a bit. One of my dream bucket list items is get the Observation of the Day on iNaturalist; that could be within the realm of possibility. I'll just have to keep on hiking- a task I am willing to continue.
It's sad to see the trash people leave on the trail- either purposefully, like a plastic soft drink bottle sticking up from the mud in a marshy area, or unwittingly, like a balloon that has probably floated in from some celebration elsewhere and now lays forgotten by the original celebrants a few feet off of the trail. The balloon's bright colors contrast with the brown and faded green and dull yellows of the grass and leaves, marking it as painfully out of place. I leave the trail and walk the few feet needed to retrieve the balloon, fold it up, and stick it in my field bag for dumpster disposal later. As I walk back to the trail, the grasshoppers leap before me. I have no way to reach the plastic soft drink bottle, so it must stay for the time being.
I've been advised that shortly I am to temporarily lose access to my favorite trail due to some infrastructure work; the area will be closed off to the public for safety reasons. I try to view this as an opportunity- I am fortunate to live in an area with other trails, so there is some exploring to be done. However, I have bonded with this trail; I've seen it lush with wildflowers and butterflies and gem-like variegated meadowhawks in spring and fall; I've seen it newly emerged from flooding; I've seen great blue herons walking on the iced-over marsh during a deep winter freeze. I stood alone on that day, hearing only my breathing, watching the herons walk confidently on the thin ice, knowing that I was watching something beautiful. I've seen my offspring stare, gape-mouthed, at egrets and herons and once, the possibility of a beaver swimming across the marsh. I know I'll be back, but it will not be easy to wait.
Enough of this funk, I tell myself. The winter birds are on their way, as is (hopefully) some cooler weather. I sit at a table at one of the wildlife blinds, drinking some water (hydration is important) and wiping off sweat from my forehead with a bandanna (always carry a bandanna in your field bag). I look over at the green reeds- almost the only thing bright green in this dry landscape- and when my eyes adjust I see a small green tree frog, curled up on a green reed, almost perfectly blending in. Then I see another, and another, and soon I realize that the reeds are full of green tree frogs. It is just what I needed; my slump is not cured, but for a moment it is forgotten.
I feel you, kid. I really do. The Mom of No likes the heat- most of the time. In mid-summer, I can walk down the trails and see dragonflies everywhere, which makes being drenched in sweat worthwhile. But in late September, it seems like the heat should go, already. Rain has been scarce and everything is dry and brown, and the dragonflies have left (mostly), except for a few elderly scarred stragglers and a bunch of common green darners. As I walk down the trail, grasshoppers fly everywhere, announcing my arrival to anything that happens to be lurking around. A stealthy approach is just not possible. Thanks for nothing, grasshoppers.
I'm in a prolonged late summer slump, brought on only partially by the paucity of observations on my favorite trail; it seems like this year there is less to see, although that could be because I've forgotten that it is like this every year, or that this year it's particularly parched, or that I've been reading about the decline of birds and insects and seeing only grasshoppers instead of common buckeyes and Gulf fritillaries and Queen butterflies is reinforcing what I've read. I am fascinated with the intricate beauty of butterflies and dragonflies; a future world in which small children will never see a dragonfly and then think of winged fairies is not something I really want to consider.
Soon enough, the Mom of No will celebrate that half-century milestone birthday, and the feeling is strong that if I want to do something, now is probably a good time to do it. However, the practical side of me then asserts itself to state that most of what I really want to do involves a lot of time or a lot of money (or both), so there's the realization that maybe I should pare down the list just a bit. One of my dream bucket list items is get the Observation of the Day on iNaturalist; that could be within the realm of possibility. I'll just have to keep on hiking- a task I am willing to continue.
It's sad to see the trash people leave on the trail- either purposefully, like a plastic soft drink bottle sticking up from the mud in a marshy area, or unwittingly, like a balloon that has probably floated in from some celebration elsewhere and now lays forgotten by the original celebrants a few feet off of the trail. The balloon's bright colors contrast with the brown and faded green and dull yellows of the grass and leaves, marking it as painfully out of place. I leave the trail and walk the few feet needed to retrieve the balloon, fold it up, and stick it in my field bag for dumpster disposal later. As I walk back to the trail, the grasshoppers leap before me. I have no way to reach the plastic soft drink bottle, so it must stay for the time being.
I've been advised that shortly I am to temporarily lose access to my favorite trail due to some infrastructure work; the area will be closed off to the public for safety reasons. I try to view this as an opportunity- I am fortunate to live in an area with other trails, so there is some exploring to be done. However, I have bonded with this trail; I've seen it lush with wildflowers and butterflies and gem-like variegated meadowhawks in spring and fall; I've seen it newly emerged from flooding; I've seen great blue herons walking on the iced-over marsh during a deep winter freeze. I stood alone on that day, hearing only my breathing, watching the herons walk confidently on the thin ice, knowing that I was watching something beautiful. I've seen my offspring stare, gape-mouthed, at egrets and herons and once, the possibility of a beaver swimming across the marsh. I know I'll be back, but it will not be easy to wait.
Enough of this funk, I tell myself. The winter birds are on their way, as is (hopefully) some cooler weather. I sit at a table at one of the wildlife blinds, drinking some water (hydration is important) and wiping off sweat from my forehead with a bandanna (always carry a bandanna in your field bag). I look over at the green reeds- almost the only thing bright green in this dry landscape- and when my eyes adjust I see a small green tree frog, curled up on a green reed, almost perfectly blending in. Then I see another, and another, and soon I realize that the reeds are full of green tree frogs. It is just what I needed; my slump is not cured, but for a moment it is forgotten.
Sunday, August 11, 2019
Lunch Treat
Earlier this afternoon, the Son of Never Stops Eating did something I honestly didn't see coming: he took me out to lunch after church.
You don't have to, I told him. We have plenty of food at home. But he had his heart set on chicken and fries, and he was willing- insistent, actually- to pay for it with his snow cone stand job earnings, so after some discussion about who had the best chicken tenders and fries, we set off for the local Whataburger and enjoyed a delicious lunch. Today is his last day of work since school is starting this week, and he told me he was going to miss his job and his paycheck and that he was going to stop buying Legos for awhile because he wanted to save his money (but I've heard that last one before, and then two weeks later he finds his newest heart's desire online, and that is the end of the saving money- so I'm dubious about the last part).
If a visitor from the future had appeared to me back in the mid 2000's and told me "In a few years, this kid who isn't talking to you and who doesn't seem interested in human interaction and who just wants to run around whenever you try to get him to participate in anything will be taking you out to lunch with money he earned at a part time job", I would have been convinced that this time traveler's brains were completely scrambled by whatever process had enabled him or her to venture back to the past, or that they had me confused with some other person, but I wouldn't have believed a word of any of it- which is likely a problem time travelers encounter on a regular basis.
This is the problem with autism: I usually have people make one of two assumptions about the Son of Never Stops Eating, when they find out he's on the spectrum. I once tried to talk to a church youth counselor about the Son of Never Stops Eating participating in activities, and his concern was that I needed to be there so that I could toilet him and help him eat. His impression (based on one encounter) was that people with autism were essentially helpless. I also have people who will tell me not to worry about my son's future because he's probably a coding savant; he'll get a job at Microsoft, and them move to Seattle, where evidently he'll fit in just fine. Neither of these things happen to be true here- the Son of Never Stops Eating is definitely capable of feeding himself (as I write this, he is feeding himself a huge piece of chocolate cake), and he has zero interest in coding.
These encounters usually end in me saying something like "not all kids with autism are similar, that's why it's referred to as a spectrum", and then the other person says something like "oh yeah, I think I've heard that before, so he's not like Temple Grandin? Because I watched that show on TV and it was really good".
In the recent past, one of my concerns about him was what would happen if he got a job and then his employer wanted him to wear khaki pants, or an itchy polo shirt? At his current job he can wear shorts and a t-shirt, so it was a non-issue. Since school starts Tuesday, I asked him what he is going to wear on his first day of school, and he responded with "the usual", which maybe because he is a teenage boy or maybe because he hates wearing pants and itchy shirts or maybe both is always going to be shorts and a t-shirt even if it's freezing (that's one of the things I'm always wondering: is this a teenage boy thing, or an autism thing, or a Generation Z thing, or am I just being an overthinking mother and it's not a thing at all?". So then I asked him what he'd do if he got a job and had to wear clothes he didn't like.
He sighed deeply. Mom, he says, I don't like itchy clothes for school but if I had to wear it for work, I would do it because I am getting paid at a job and I like money but school is just school.
I wanted to ask him if he was also willing to wear deodorant to work, because the last time we had a discussion about deodorant he was insistent that deodorant was for school days only, but some things I honestly just don't want to be aware of.
The entire time we were eating, The Son of Never Stops Eating's latest Lego creation, some V-wing or X wing or something like that space fighter, was sitting on the table next to his Whataburger box of chicken tenders, and at least twice someone stopped at our table to ask him- with apparent genuine interest- if he'd built it himself and how long it had taken (yes, and 2 hours).
Yep, back in 2009, when I was chasing the Son of Never Stops Eating around a baseball field, trying without any success to get him to at least look at me and maybe try swinging a bat, and he was running away from me with the speed of an Olympic sprinter, I never saw a day in which I'd be sitting at a Whataburger with him (and an intricate Lego creation he'd built) eating a meal he'd paid for with money he'd earned himself and having conversations about why it would be OK to wear itchy clothes to work (but definitely not school), whether Mr. Burns is more evil than Darth Vader, and how he might join the art club at school (but maybe not).
I saw a lot of possible futures, but not a single one looked like this.
You don't have to, I told him. We have plenty of food at home. But he had his heart set on chicken and fries, and he was willing- insistent, actually- to pay for it with his snow cone stand job earnings, so after some discussion about who had the best chicken tenders and fries, we set off for the local Whataburger and enjoyed a delicious lunch. Today is his last day of work since school is starting this week, and he told me he was going to miss his job and his paycheck and that he was going to stop buying Legos for awhile because he wanted to save his money (but I've heard that last one before, and then two weeks later he finds his newest heart's desire online, and that is the end of the saving money- so I'm dubious about the last part).
If a visitor from the future had appeared to me back in the mid 2000's and told me "In a few years, this kid who isn't talking to you and who doesn't seem interested in human interaction and who just wants to run around whenever you try to get him to participate in anything will be taking you out to lunch with money he earned at a part time job", I would have been convinced that this time traveler's brains were completely scrambled by whatever process had enabled him or her to venture back to the past, or that they had me confused with some other person, but I wouldn't have believed a word of any of it- which is likely a problem time travelers encounter on a regular basis.
This is the problem with autism: I usually have people make one of two assumptions about the Son of Never Stops Eating, when they find out he's on the spectrum. I once tried to talk to a church youth counselor about the Son of Never Stops Eating participating in activities, and his concern was that I needed to be there so that I could toilet him and help him eat. His impression (based on one encounter) was that people with autism were essentially helpless. I also have people who will tell me not to worry about my son's future because he's probably a coding savant; he'll get a job at Microsoft, and them move to Seattle, where evidently he'll fit in just fine. Neither of these things happen to be true here- the Son of Never Stops Eating is definitely capable of feeding himself (as I write this, he is feeding himself a huge piece of chocolate cake), and he has zero interest in coding.
These encounters usually end in me saying something like "not all kids with autism are similar, that's why it's referred to as a spectrum", and then the other person says something like "oh yeah, I think I've heard that before, so he's not like Temple Grandin? Because I watched that show on TV and it was really good".
In the recent past, one of my concerns about him was what would happen if he got a job and then his employer wanted him to wear khaki pants, or an itchy polo shirt? At his current job he can wear shorts and a t-shirt, so it was a non-issue. Since school starts Tuesday, I asked him what he is going to wear on his first day of school, and he responded with "the usual", which maybe because he is a teenage boy or maybe because he hates wearing pants and itchy shirts or maybe both is always going to be shorts and a t-shirt even if it's freezing (that's one of the things I'm always wondering: is this a teenage boy thing, or an autism thing, or a Generation Z thing, or am I just being an overthinking mother and it's not a thing at all?". So then I asked him what he'd do if he got a job and had to wear clothes he didn't like.
He sighed deeply. Mom, he says, I don't like itchy clothes for school but if I had to wear it for work, I would do it because I am getting paid at a job and I like money but school is just school.
I wanted to ask him if he was also willing to wear deodorant to work, because the last time we had a discussion about deodorant he was insistent that deodorant was for school days only, but some things I honestly just don't want to be aware of.
The entire time we were eating, The Son of Never Stops Eating's latest Lego creation, some V-wing or X wing or something like that space fighter, was sitting on the table next to his Whataburger box of chicken tenders, and at least twice someone stopped at our table to ask him- with apparent genuine interest- if he'd built it himself and how long it had taken (yes, and 2 hours).
Yep, back in 2009, when I was chasing the Son of Never Stops Eating around a baseball field, trying without any success to get him to at least look at me and maybe try swinging a bat, and he was running away from me with the speed of an Olympic sprinter, I never saw a day in which I'd be sitting at a Whataburger with him (and an intricate Lego creation he'd built) eating a meal he'd paid for with money he'd earned himself and having conversations about why it would be OK to wear itchy clothes to work (but definitely not school), whether Mr. Burns is more evil than Darth Vader, and how he might join the art club at school (but maybe not).
I saw a lot of possible futures, but not a single one looked like this.
Sunday, August 4, 2019
A Teen and His Money
Several months ago, when the Son of Never Stops Eating was still in 10th grade, he was going on a field trip with his class. As part of that excursion, they were going to stop and eat at a restaurant, and the instructions said to bring money for a lunch and tip. The night before, I went searching for $10 to give him and came up with about $5 and a few stray pennies.
"I don't think this is going to be enough", I told him. "Use your debit card and I'll pay you back".
About ten minutes after lunch the next day, he started texting me: MOM! Did you pay me back? MOM! I need money! MOM! Don't forget to pay me back! MOOOMMMMMMM I want my MONEY MOM! Did you put $10 in my account yet? MOM I want my MONEY!
Then: Mom I love you Mom don't forget my money!
He was being really persistent, considering that the only money he had at the time was the allowance I was giving him, so technically he had loaned me my own money and was now demanding rapid reimbursement of money I'd given him in the first place even though I'd meant it to pay for hamster bedding and saving up for Legos, not for lunch- it was like dealing with a Vegas loan shark (not that I've had that experience first hand, but I can envision it) or the Mafia.
You should be happy he doesn't know about interest, a co-worker said. He'd be charging you by the minute. I was making a mental note to never borrow my own money from my son again, and was remembering the days long ago when I wondered if he'd ever be able to read or write well enough to get a point across. Clearly, this educational milestone had been met.
A few weeks ago, he ordered, using money he'd made from a part-time summer job, his latest heart's desire: a Lego Star Wars X-wing or V-wing Darth Vader Super Fighting Rebel Warp Drive Fighter Jet (or something like that). He had ordered this, with my assistance (by which I mean he stood behind me and told me exactly what number the Lego set was from memory while I typed in the order) from a gargantuan online seller. It was actually being shipped by a third-party, not the behemoth itself, a fact which really didn't register at the moment. He ordered it using his debit card (side note: we won't be doing that anymore, so if you're tempted to message me that this was a bad idea, you don't need to) and immediately (and by immediately, what I really mean is "the nanosecond I pressed the order button") started pestering me about when this Super-V Wing Jet Nuclear Powered Jedi Fighter was going to arrive. Patience, grasshopper, I advised him. It's not like he doesn't have at least three huge tubs of Legos already.
It didn't arrive that day, or the next day, or the day after that, or even the week after that- it hadn't even shipped. I tried to cancel the order, but was being ignored by the evil third-party seller, who had promised Legos but wasn't delivering. Fortunately the debit card hadn't been charged but it could be, at any moment, so I had told the Son of Never Stops Eating that he couldn't spend that money on anything else just yet. I needed the order cancelled, desperately, because the Son of Never Stops Eating was wanting his Legos, or permission to use his money, and he was wanting them RIGHT NOW and by RIGHT NOW I mean that the kid was on summer break and he had plenty of time to text his mother about his desperate lack of a specific Lego construction kit.
MOM! I WANT MY LEGOS! Did you call? Mom don't forget to call! Mom, I NEED my X-Wing fighter! Mom, Don't forget I need my Legos MOM! MOM! MOOOOMMMMMM! I want my money!
MOM I love you MOM Did you cancel it yet? Don't forget MOM!
Please, I am begging you, I told the customer service representative from Gargantuan Seller. My son is obsessed with these Legos and also with his money. Please help me cancel the order so that he can order something else. The customer service representative was efficient and merciful and was able to inform me that yes, the order was being cancelled and with that miraculous news, the Son of Never Stops Eating was once again free to spend his money on some other Lego set despite both the Father of No and I encouraging him to do something bold and new, like save his money or buy something else that isn't Legos.
In special education transition to adulthood meetings, the subject of handling and managing money often comes up as a needed skill. The next time it does, I'll be able to say that while we don't have all the intricacies worked out of good money management skills, I think he gets that his money is his money- and once he learns about interest, I'll have to be sure to keep cash on hand so I won't need to borrow any of my own money to pay for field trip lunches. I'm fairly certain I won't be able to afford it.
"I don't think this is going to be enough", I told him. "Use your debit card and I'll pay you back".
About ten minutes after lunch the next day, he started texting me: MOM! Did you pay me back? MOM! I need money! MOM! Don't forget to pay me back! MOOOMMMMMMM I want my MONEY MOM! Did you put $10 in my account yet? MOM I want my MONEY!
Then: Mom I love you Mom don't forget my money!
He was being really persistent, considering that the only money he had at the time was the allowance I was giving him, so technically he had loaned me my own money and was now demanding rapid reimbursement of money I'd given him in the first place even though I'd meant it to pay for hamster bedding and saving up for Legos, not for lunch- it was like dealing with a Vegas loan shark (not that I've had that experience first hand, but I can envision it) or the Mafia.
You should be happy he doesn't know about interest, a co-worker said. He'd be charging you by the minute. I was making a mental note to never borrow my own money from my son again, and was remembering the days long ago when I wondered if he'd ever be able to read or write well enough to get a point across. Clearly, this educational milestone had been met.
A few weeks ago, he ordered, using money he'd made from a part-time summer job, his latest heart's desire: a Lego Star Wars X-wing or V-wing Darth Vader Super Fighting Rebel Warp Drive Fighter Jet (or something like that). He had ordered this, with my assistance (by which I mean he stood behind me and told me exactly what number the Lego set was from memory while I typed in the order) from a gargantuan online seller. It was actually being shipped by a third-party, not the behemoth itself, a fact which really didn't register at the moment. He ordered it using his debit card (side note: we won't be doing that anymore, so if you're tempted to message me that this was a bad idea, you don't need to) and immediately (and by immediately, what I really mean is "the nanosecond I pressed the order button") started pestering me about when this Super-V Wing Jet Nuclear Powered Jedi Fighter was going to arrive. Patience, grasshopper, I advised him. It's not like he doesn't have at least three huge tubs of Legos already.
It didn't arrive that day, or the next day, or the day after that, or even the week after that- it hadn't even shipped. I tried to cancel the order, but was being ignored by the evil third-party seller, who had promised Legos but wasn't delivering. Fortunately the debit card hadn't been charged but it could be, at any moment, so I had told the Son of Never Stops Eating that he couldn't spend that money on anything else just yet. I needed the order cancelled, desperately, because the Son of Never Stops Eating was wanting his Legos, or permission to use his money, and he was wanting them RIGHT NOW and by RIGHT NOW I mean that the kid was on summer break and he had plenty of time to text his mother about his desperate lack of a specific Lego construction kit.
MOM! I WANT MY LEGOS! Did you call? Mom don't forget to call! Mom, I NEED my X-Wing fighter! Mom, Don't forget I need my Legos MOM! MOM! MOOOOMMMMMM! I want my money!
MOM I love you MOM Did you cancel it yet? Don't forget MOM!
Please, I am begging you, I told the customer service representative from Gargantuan Seller. My son is obsessed with these Legos and also with his money. Please help me cancel the order so that he can order something else. The customer service representative was efficient and merciful and was able to inform me that yes, the order was being cancelled and with that miraculous news, the Son of Never Stops Eating was once again free to spend his money on some other Lego set despite both the Father of No and I encouraging him to do something bold and new, like save his money or buy something else that isn't Legos.
In special education transition to adulthood meetings, the subject of handling and managing money often comes up as a needed skill. The next time it does, I'll be able to say that while we don't have all the intricacies worked out of good money management skills, I think he gets that his money is his money- and once he learns about interest, I'll have to be sure to keep cash on hand so I won't need to borrow any of my own money to pay for field trip lunches. I'm fairly certain I won't be able to afford it.
Wednesday, July 24, 2019
Bureaucracy
You'd have to be a hermit who has been living in a cave for the last 100 years to not realize that one of the biggest issues in the United States is healthcare. People have all kinds of pros and cons for wanting one solution or another; politicians running for office promise great solutions that will make everyone happy with either no intention of delivering on their promises or no plan for delivering on their promises, or both. Usually one reason people trot out for not wanting any kind of single payer or universal healthcare is that they don't want to deal with the inefficient and heartless government bureaucracy. Definitely, the private sector works like a well-oiled machine- and it's not confusing or complicated, and everyone knows exactly how much things are going to cost. I can't imagine why anyone would want something different.
So someone in the Family of No needs oral surgery to extract some wisdom teeth. The Mom of No has medical insurance and springs every pay period for the extra dental insurance because hey, four people, that's a lot of teeth- and the Mom of No had a root canal earlier this year, so the policy has already paid for itself, because those root canals are expensive (and painful). I should have done a better job of flossing in my youth; lesson learned. So the oral surgeon's office is called, appointments are made, and of course then it comes time for the healthcare acquisition ritual known as "We Must Discuss Your Insurance Benefits Before Care Can Commence".
"Well", the benefits coordinator tells me, "Medical is your primary insurance, so we have to file with them first, but they're a non-participating provider. Your dental insurance should pay it but we can't submit the claim to them until your medical insurance denies it. That will take several months, so in the meantime, you'll have to pay the balance and wait for the claim to be paid. She makes it sound like having two policies is a huge imposition. It's not my fault that's how my medical insurance is, I want to say.
Wait, what? That's not what the dental insurance benefits book says. I eyeball the clock, hoping that I'll have time to get some dragonfly hunting in before dinner. I sense that yes, this is about to get complicated.
The benefits coordinator is unimpressed with my knowledge of my dental plan benefits.
Doesn't matter, she says. That's our policy. Because you have two insurance plans. We're only doing this as a favor to you. Usually we just file one. But the secondary insurance you have is easy to work with. So lucky you. But you still have to pay up front.
But my medical insurance won't even pay anything, I tell her. It doesn't even cover dental procedures. That's what the other policy is for. That's not how they do it at our dentist's office. That's why I bought this policy. So that I wouldn't have to pay the entire cost of stuff like this.
It doesn't work that way, she says. That's how we do it. We don't care how they do it at your dentist's office.
So what do I have to pay? I ask her. It's impossible to say without filing the claim, she says. It depends on how things are coded. You might have to pay 30% of the extractions and 15% of the sedation. Or, maybe it's 50% of the sedation and 35% of the extractions. Plus, she mentions, there's another procedure that involves taking blood and putting it on the extraction site, and insurance doesn't cover that. It depends on what your medical insurance pays. Then there's your deductible. But that's after we file the claim. You have to pay the entire cost up front.
So, I'm paying the oral surgeon more money than I'm supposed to pay for a procedure and no one can say how much it will cost because no one knows what the insurance companies will pay, and then I wait to hopefully get some money back at some undefined time in the future after the dueling insurance companies duke it out at some point in time that is convenient to them. Absolutely makes sense.
So at this point I call the dental insurance company. The rep there tells me that contractually, they can't require me to pay the entire cost. With some technical assistance from The College Student, I manage to get the surgeon's office, the insurance rep, and me on a three way call. This turns out to be a bad idea; almost immediately the benefits coordinator and the insurance rep start screaming at each other. I look at the clock again. I've been on the phone for nearly an hour. I can't take it anymore. I'm absolutely baffled. I need nature. If this were an old fashioned phone on one of those spiral cords I would bang it against the wall, but I don't want to break my mobile device so I settle for rolling my eyes and beating the palm of my hand against my forehead.
Nothing gets resolved.
So today I spent an hour of my life (and I'm about to turn 50, so the clock, it's a-ticking - every moment spent arguing about insurance is an hour less to spend in nature) on the phone trying to work out how much a wisdom tooth extraction will cost me, and I'm still confused. Why do we do this to ourselves? We're a nation of smart, resourceful people. Maybe one day we'll work it out; maybe one day we'll get tired of jumping through hoops to get a few teeth extracted.
So someone in the Family of No needs oral surgery to extract some wisdom teeth. The Mom of No has medical insurance and springs every pay period for the extra dental insurance because hey, four people, that's a lot of teeth- and the Mom of No had a root canal earlier this year, so the policy has already paid for itself, because those root canals are expensive (and painful). I should have done a better job of flossing in my youth; lesson learned. So the oral surgeon's office is called, appointments are made, and of course then it comes time for the healthcare acquisition ritual known as "We Must Discuss Your Insurance Benefits Before Care Can Commence".
"Well", the benefits coordinator tells me, "Medical is your primary insurance, so we have to file with them first, but they're a non-participating provider. Your dental insurance should pay it but we can't submit the claim to them until your medical insurance denies it. That will take several months, so in the meantime, you'll have to pay the balance and wait for the claim to be paid. She makes it sound like having two policies is a huge imposition. It's not my fault that's how my medical insurance is, I want to say.
Wait, what? That's not what the dental insurance benefits book says. I eyeball the clock, hoping that I'll have time to get some dragonfly hunting in before dinner. I sense that yes, this is about to get complicated.
The benefits coordinator is unimpressed with my knowledge of my dental plan benefits.
Doesn't matter, she says. That's our policy. Because you have two insurance plans. We're only doing this as a favor to you. Usually we just file one. But the secondary insurance you have is easy to work with. So lucky you. But you still have to pay up front.
But my medical insurance won't even pay anything, I tell her. It doesn't even cover dental procedures. That's what the other policy is for. That's not how they do it at our dentist's office. That's why I bought this policy. So that I wouldn't have to pay the entire cost of stuff like this.
It doesn't work that way, she says. That's how we do it. We don't care how they do it at your dentist's office.
So what do I have to pay? I ask her. It's impossible to say without filing the claim, she says. It depends on how things are coded. You might have to pay 30% of the extractions and 15% of the sedation. Or, maybe it's 50% of the sedation and 35% of the extractions. Plus, she mentions, there's another procedure that involves taking blood and putting it on the extraction site, and insurance doesn't cover that. It depends on what your medical insurance pays. Then there's your deductible. But that's after we file the claim. You have to pay the entire cost up front.
So, I'm paying the oral surgeon more money than I'm supposed to pay for a procedure and no one can say how much it will cost because no one knows what the insurance companies will pay, and then I wait to hopefully get some money back at some undefined time in the future after the dueling insurance companies duke it out at some point in time that is convenient to them. Absolutely makes sense.
So at this point I call the dental insurance company. The rep there tells me that contractually, they can't require me to pay the entire cost. With some technical assistance from The College Student, I manage to get the surgeon's office, the insurance rep, and me on a three way call. This turns out to be a bad idea; almost immediately the benefits coordinator and the insurance rep start screaming at each other. I look at the clock again. I've been on the phone for nearly an hour. I can't take it anymore. I'm absolutely baffled. I need nature. If this were an old fashioned phone on one of those spiral cords I would bang it against the wall, but I don't want to break my mobile device so I settle for rolling my eyes and beating the palm of my hand against my forehead.
Nothing gets resolved.
So today I spent an hour of my life (and I'm about to turn 50, so the clock, it's a-ticking - every moment spent arguing about insurance is an hour less to spend in nature) on the phone trying to work out how much a wisdom tooth extraction will cost me, and I'm still confused. Why do we do this to ourselves? We're a nation of smart, resourceful people. Maybe one day we'll work it out; maybe one day we'll get tired of jumping through hoops to get a few teeth extracted.
Sunday, June 30, 2019
Dragonflies
I haven't been writing lately because I have been busy dragonfly hunting. I like birds a lot, and in the winter I am more than happy to spend hours looking for birds out in the woods, but in the summer looking for birds becomes tangential to looking for dragonflies. The minute I spot that first common whitetail or Eastern pondhawk, my brain starts to shift its focus to insects with four wings and a wide variety of colors and patterns. I'm continually in awe at the variety of dragonflies I can find just walking around my local nature preserve. Finding dragonflies is like going on a treasure hunt; some dragonflies settle in full sunlight, soaking in the heat, and some prefer hanging from branches in the shade, where you can walk right by them without knowing it unless you are fortunate enough to see them move. One of my favorites- the smoky shadowdragon- blends in so well to its surroundings that I wonder how many I've unwittingly walked past.
People often tell me how much they love dragonflies; dragonflies are gorgeous, gem-colored ethereal dainty beauties; they are delicate fairies come to life. You can see dragonflies depicted everywhere- tattoos, notepaper, t-shirts, handbags, artwork. In reality, dragonflies are sex-crazed cannibalistic vicious little critters- they eat each other, they eat spiders, they eat butterflies, they eat other insects, and sometimes they're eating while preparing to mate. However, they are beautiful, and when the sun shines on the dragonfly at just the right moment, the sparkling light on the intricately patterned wings can be truly breathtaking.
Recently I went on a trip to California. I'm sure that when other non-Californians think of California, they think of wine country, or movie stars, or the Golden Gate bridge, or a state full of vegans eating organic produce hand-harvested by vestal virgins dressed in white, or renting half of someone's garage to live in for $3500 a month. The first though that came to me: A new place to look for dragonflies! I spent a few hours online looking for possible dragonfly-hunting spots close to where I was going, as well as looking on iNaturalist to see what other people were finding in those places. I had my fingers crossed for some new species.
My flight landed, I drove to my hotel, I checked in, I headed to the local park, and I started my search. After an hour, I had found exactly one dragonfly: A widow skimmer. I can find widow skimmers 5 miles from my house.
Ah well, as the College Student says, it be like that sometimes.
About a month ago, I printed off a list of dragonflies that could be found at our local nature preserve, and crossed out the names of the dragons I'd already found. I was left with 15, a few of which had been seen once 5 years ago. My goal became to find the 15 I hadn't seen, so that I could say that I'd seen all the dragonflies on that list. About two weeks later, I came across one of the 15 just as the park was getting ready to close: the swift setwing. Of course, the swift setwing had chosen a perch that made it nearly difficult to get a decent photo, because that is what dragonflies do best (besides mate and eat each other)- but I succeeded after about 20 tries, all the while stressing out because I knew I had about five minutes to get in my car and out the gate. Who only knew when I'd find this dragonfly again? It could be never.
Then a few weeks later, I was in another park, also close to my house, and I found four swift setwings in two hours. Yes, it do be like that sometimes.
I have at least two more months of hot summer weather to be hunting dragonflies (with a camera), so if you are looking for me, look outside- and bring a lot of water. I have dragonflies to find.
 |
The elusive Smoky Shadowdragon
|
Recently I went on a trip to California. I'm sure that when other non-Californians think of California, they think of wine country, or movie stars, or the Golden Gate bridge, or a state full of vegans eating organic produce hand-harvested by vestal virgins dressed in white, or renting half of someone's garage to live in for $3500 a month. The first though that came to me: A new place to look for dragonflies! I spent a few hours online looking for possible dragonfly-hunting spots close to where I was going, as well as looking on iNaturalist to see what other people were finding in those places. I had my fingers crossed for some new species.
My flight landed, I drove to my hotel, I checked in, I headed to the local park, and I started my search. After an hour, I had found exactly one dragonfly: A widow skimmer. I can find widow skimmers 5 miles from my house.
Ah well, as the College Student says, it be like that sometimes.
About a month ago, I printed off a list of dragonflies that could be found at our local nature preserve, and crossed out the names of the dragons I'd already found. I was left with 15, a few of which had been seen once 5 years ago. My goal became to find the 15 I hadn't seen, so that I could say that I'd seen all the dragonflies on that list. About two weeks later, I came across one of the 15 just as the park was getting ready to close: the swift setwing. Of course, the swift setwing had chosen a perch that made it nearly difficult to get a decent photo, because that is what dragonflies do best (besides mate and eat each other)- but I succeeded after about 20 tries, all the while stressing out because I knew I had about five minutes to get in my car and out the gate. Who only knew when I'd find this dragonfly again? It could be never.
Then a few weeks later, I was in another park, also close to my house, and I found four swift setwings in two hours. Yes, it do be like that sometimes.
I have at least two more months of hot summer weather to be hunting dragonflies (with a camera), so if you are looking for me, look outside- and bring a lot of water. I have dragonflies to find.
Thursday, May 2, 2019
Bioblitz Weekend
Last weekend was one of my favorite events of the year: The annual iNaturalist City Nature Challenge. The Nature Challenge is a good-natured world-wide competition to find out what region can get the most nature observations in a 4 day period, and since Friday and Monday are work days for me, I spend all weekend out in the field taking photos and downloading observations to my iNaturalist project. This year I logged over 40,000 steps getting 110 observations of 65 different species of plants, dragonflies, snakes, birds, and butterflies.
My favorite trail is partially flooded once again because of the release from the dam, and the flooded part includes one of the best places to find dragonflies, but I adjusted, with great success. The dragonflies are just getting started; the Eastern pondhawks, common green darners, plains clubtails and common whitetails are plentiful but I know there's more to come as summer gets closer. People often tell me they love dragonflies; they're fascinating beauties with their often complex coloring and ethereal looking wings. In nature, however, they are also often downright vicious, especially when they capture a tasty meal- which is often enough another, less fortunate, dragonfly or damselfly.
Of course, what I was really looking for was the snakes. On Friday night I was fortunate enough to observe this gorgeous broad-banded water snake, and at that moment I knew that it was going to be a great Bioblitz weekend. It didn't stick around for long, but it was long enough to get a few great snake photos. During the weekend, I was also able to find two rough greensnakes, a cottonmouth, and a western rat snake. It was a good snake- observing weekend.
When I first got hooked on iNaturalist in 2014- which seems like such a long time ago, now- I could reliably identify a few birds and plants (northern cardinal, blue jay, robin, and bluebonnets). Now I can identify much of what I see (with the exception of plants- sometimes the best I can do there is "flowering plant"). I don't always get it right, and sometimes I'm fooled or led astray by wishful thinking; a few weeks ago I was really excited because I thought I'd gotten a new species of dragonfly; it looked similar to a common green darner but the colors were slightly brighter that what I normally observed. Of course, it ended up being a common green darner (but a really pretty one!). I've learned so much in five years and I am only getting started.
Every year that I've participated in the City Nature Challenge, I've found at least one "WOW!" observation, and this year was no exception. As usually is the case, I found it when I was least expecting to find anything in a place I had looked at hundreds of times and seen nothing. This is probably the cutest observation I have in my iNaturalist project, and it was really difficult to resist the temptation to pick up one of these SUPER CUTE ADORABLE opossums and cuddle it. Better sense prevailed and I settled for standing a few feet away, gushing to myself about ALL THE CUTE!
What really amazes me is that I was able, in two days, to document 65 different species, some plants but most not, in a nature preserve located in the middle of a huge, extensively developed, metropolitan area. Wildlife is all around us, whether it's a monarch butterfly passing through on its migration or the rat snake the Dad of No found while cleaning out some vegetation in our backyard (the snake left before I got to see it).
My favorite trail is partially flooded once again because of the release from the dam, and the flooded part includes one of the best places to find dragonflies, but I adjusted, with great success. The dragonflies are just getting started; the Eastern pondhawks, common green darners, plains clubtails and common whitetails are plentiful but I know there's more to come as summer gets closer. People often tell me they love dragonflies; they're fascinating beauties with their often complex coloring and ethereal looking wings. In nature, however, they are also often downright vicious, especially when they capture a tasty meal- which is often enough another, less fortunate, dragonfly or damselfly.
Of course, what I was really looking for was the snakes. On Friday night I was fortunate enough to observe this gorgeous broad-banded water snake, and at that moment I knew that it was going to be a great Bioblitz weekend. It didn't stick around for long, but it was long enough to get a few great snake photos. During the weekend, I was also able to find two rough greensnakes, a cottonmouth, and a western rat snake. It was a good snake- observing weekend.
When I first got hooked on iNaturalist in 2014- which seems like such a long time ago, now- I could reliably identify a few birds and plants (northern cardinal, blue jay, robin, and bluebonnets). Now I can identify much of what I see (with the exception of plants- sometimes the best I can do there is "flowering plant"). I don't always get it right, and sometimes I'm fooled or led astray by wishful thinking; a few weeks ago I was really excited because I thought I'd gotten a new species of dragonfly; it looked similar to a common green darner but the colors were slightly brighter that what I normally observed. Of course, it ended up being a common green darner (but a really pretty one!). I've learned so much in five years and I am only getting started.
Every year that I've participated in the City Nature Challenge, I've found at least one "WOW!" observation, and this year was no exception. As usually is the case, I found it when I was least expecting to find anything in a place I had looked at hundreds of times and seen nothing. This is probably the cutest observation I have in my iNaturalist project, and it was really difficult to resist the temptation to pick up one of these SUPER CUTE ADORABLE opossums and cuddle it. Better sense prevailed and I settled for standing a few feet away, gushing to myself about ALL THE CUTE!
What really amazes me is that I was able, in two days, to document 65 different species, some plants but most not, in a nature preserve located in the middle of a huge, extensively developed, metropolitan area. Wildlife is all around us, whether it's a monarch butterfly passing through on its migration or the rat snake the Dad of No found while cleaning out some vegetation in our backyard (the snake left before I got to see it).
Sunday, April 14, 2019
Snowplow Parenting
Last night was the local high school's prom. As I was looking at all the prom photos on Facebook, I kept thinking, has it really been almost a year since the College Student graduated from high school? Why, yes it has. She has almost a complete year of college under her belt, and it's been a growth experience for both her and her parents. I can't speak for her, but I'm having to learn how to restrain my inner urge to solve any problem I am confronted with- even when it's not exactly my problem to solve.
Recently, I was reading about something called "snowplow parenting", in which parents not only helicopter but they actively work to remove all the obstacles in their child's way, so that the path is smooth and easy. This seems like a lot of extra parenting work, and also a bad idea- at some point obstacles will be encountered no matter how much snowplowing happens, so it's probably better to learn how to overcome when you're young and the stakes are lower than when you're all grown up. One of the examples I read was about a kid who hated sauce, so the parents actively worked to make sure that the kid never encountered any- not at home, not at school, not at friends' homes. Then lo and behold, she goes off to college and encounters sauce in the dining hall. Apparently things did not go well. Obviously no one told her that sometimes the sauce is the only thing appealing about dining hall food.
When I was a kid and I said I didn't like the sauce, the Grandma or Grandpa of No would glare at me and then say "Well, then, just scrape it off, but that is what there is". Sometimes there might be a little extra spice tossed in, in the form of "There are hungry kids who would be happy to have that sauce", or "If you don't like it, then you can start doing the cooking".
Oh, thank God, I told myself, when I heard about this. My kids are too old for this latest parenting trend, and I'm too old to be doing all that work when I could be taking a nap or looking for my reading glasses.
Then Spring Break happened.
So earlier this spring, I needed to get the College Student home for Spring Break. I went to the trusty ol' American Airlines website only to find out that apparently EVERYONE wants to fly over Spring Break; tickets were well over the Mom of No's budget. I went to the trusty ol' Southwest Airlines website and discovered that I could get the College Student home somewhat within budget but she'd have to go to Las Vegas, Phoenix, St Louis, and Denver first. Remember this, children: you can have it under budget, on time, or within specifications, but you can't have all three.
"How about the bus?" I texted the College Student. "Road trip!" she replied.
Despite the horror stories people insisted on telling me about the bus, her ride home was fine. She even got dropped off at a gas station close to our house. This was better than flying! No check bags fee, no drive to the airport! When her visit came to a close, the Dad of No took her to the bus station and dropped her off. All was apparently well until about 7:30 AM the next morning, when she texted me that she was stranded in Wichita.
"Wichita Falls, Texas?" I said. I wasn't yet caffeinated and therefore not fully competent to confront any obstacles the day would present.
"No, Mom! Wichita, Kansas!" Apparently the bus driver had stopped at the bus station at some ungodly hour of the morning, told everyone to get off the bus, unloaded their luggage and drove off. No one knew where the bus had gone, or when a new bus would arrive to take everyone to their final destination.
This is where the parental urge to snowplow started kicking in, and I had to work hard to resist it. My brain was presenting two possible reactions to this issue:
1. Your young adult child is delayed at the Wichita bus depot. She says that she is safe but somewhat hungry and a little worried about missing calculus class on Monday morning. You need to back off and let her do the adulting thing.
2. PARENTAL EMERGENCY! ALL HANDS ON DECK! THE BUS STATION IS HOLDING MY BABY GIRL HOSTAGE AND I NEED TO GO RESCUE HER! RED ALERT! RED ALERT!
Many conversations ensued. The Grandpa of No called (Hey, I heard the College Student is stuck in Kansas!). The Dad of No and I had discussions about would it be better to drive to Wichita and then take her back to school, or bring her back home and put her on a plane. At no time did the College Student ask us to come get her; she seemed to be bonding with her fellow stranded passengers while looking for places to charge her devices and consuming the snacks she'd brought from home. We were the ones feeling the desperate need to snowplow.
Fortunately, by early afternoon, a bus representative had appeared and was rescheduling all the passengers. The situation was under control without any real intervention on our part (well, OK, maybe a phone call to the bus customer service number to find out what was going on). She arrived back on her campus around midnight and went to eat with a friend. She now has a bus story to tell, which seems to be an American rite of passage.
Meanwhile, at home, by Monday morning my adrenaline levels had returned to normal, and my urge to snowplow parent the College Student had receded into the background, where it probably needs to stay.
Recently, I was reading about something called "snowplow parenting", in which parents not only helicopter but they actively work to remove all the obstacles in their child's way, so that the path is smooth and easy. This seems like a lot of extra parenting work, and also a bad idea- at some point obstacles will be encountered no matter how much snowplowing happens, so it's probably better to learn how to overcome when you're young and the stakes are lower than when you're all grown up. One of the examples I read was about a kid who hated sauce, so the parents actively worked to make sure that the kid never encountered any- not at home, not at school, not at friends' homes. Then lo and behold, she goes off to college and encounters sauce in the dining hall. Apparently things did not go well. Obviously no one told her that sometimes the sauce is the only thing appealing about dining hall food.
When I was a kid and I said I didn't like the sauce, the Grandma or Grandpa of No would glare at me and then say "Well, then, just scrape it off, but that is what there is". Sometimes there might be a little extra spice tossed in, in the form of "There are hungry kids who would be happy to have that sauce", or "If you don't like it, then you can start doing the cooking".
Oh, thank God, I told myself, when I heard about this. My kids are too old for this latest parenting trend, and I'm too old to be doing all that work when I could be taking a nap or looking for my reading glasses.
Then Spring Break happened.
So earlier this spring, I needed to get the College Student home for Spring Break. I went to the trusty ol' American Airlines website only to find out that apparently EVERYONE wants to fly over Spring Break; tickets were well over the Mom of No's budget. I went to the trusty ol' Southwest Airlines website and discovered that I could get the College Student home somewhat within budget but she'd have to go to Las Vegas, Phoenix, St Louis, and Denver first. Remember this, children: you can have it under budget, on time, or within specifications, but you can't have all three.
"How about the bus?" I texted the College Student. "Road trip!" she replied.
Despite the horror stories people insisted on telling me about the bus, her ride home was fine. She even got dropped off at a gas station close to our house. This was better than flying! No check bags fee, no drive to the airport! When her visit came to a close, the Dad of No took her to the bus station and dropped her off. All was apparently well until about 7:30 AM the next morning, when she texted me that she was stranded in Wichita.
"Wichita Falls, Texas?" I said. I wasn't yet caffeinated and therefore not fully competent to confront any obstacles the day would present.
"No, Mom! Wichita, Kansas!" Apparently the bus driver had stopped at the bus station at some ungodly hour of the morning, told everyone to get off the bus, unloaded their luggage and drove off. No one knew where the bus had gone, or when a new bus would arrive to take everyone to their final destination.
This is where the parental urge to snowplow started kicking in, and I had to work hard to resist it. My brain was presenting two possible reactions to this issue:
1. Your young adult child is delayed at the Wichita bus depot. She says that she is safe but somewhat hungry and a little worried about missing calculus class on Monday morning. You need to back off and let her do the adulting thing.
2. PARENTAL EMERGENCY! ALL HANDS ON DECK! THE BUS STATION IS HOLDING MY BABY GIRL HOSTAGE AND I NEED TO GO RESCUE HER! RED ALERT! RED ALERT!
Many conversations ensued. The Grandpa of No called (Hey, I heard the College Student is stuck in Kansas!). The Dad of No and I had discussions about would it be better to drive to Wichita and then take her back to school, or bring her back home and put her on a plane. At no time did the College Student ask us to come get her; she seemed to be bonding with her fellow stranded passengers while looking for places to charge her devices and consuming the snacks she'd brought from home. We were the ones feeling the desperate need to snowplow.
Fortunately, by early afternoon, a bus representative had appeared and was rescheduling all the passengers. The situation was under control without any real intervention on our part (well, OK, maybe a phone call to the bus customer service number to find out what was going on). She arrived back on her campus around midnight and went to eat with a friend. She now has a bus story to tell, which seems to be an American rite of passage.
Meanwhile, at home, by Monday morning my adrenaline levels had returned to normal, and my urge to snowplow parent the College Student had receded into the background, where it probably needs to stay.
Sunday, March 31, 2019
Annual Autism Awareness Month Post
I'm sitting in the car with the Son of Never Stops Eating after church and before the weekly post-church grocery store run, trying to explain FICA and federal income tax paycheck deductions. He just got his first teenager job, and he's trying to figure out how much he needs to make in order to buy his latest Heart's Desire, which is something called an AT-AP Walker. He's also going through a little pre-employment angst; he's worried that he will make a mistake his first day of work, or that he won't get along with his co-workers.
When The College Student got her first job, she did everything on her own. I think I might have told her to take zero deductions on the W-2 form. For the Son of Never Stops Eating, a little more assistance was required; for example, I had to explain the question "Are you legal to work in the United States?" and I also had to call his life planner, because planning for special needs issues is beyond complicated and I'd rather get bitten by a venomous snake than do my son's special needs life planning without professional guidance. I had to make sure that (1) it was OK for him to work over the summer, and (2) find out how much I could allow him to make and not risk losing eligibility for SSI/SSDI at 18, because I need him to eventually be on Medicare so that I know he will have health insurance. Then I had to explain all the answers to his prospective boss.
That is the thing about parenting a special needs about to be young adult- my mind is constantly working through scenarios: What will he do after high school? Where will he eventually live? How will he get around? What kind of work will he do? How will we keep track of his earnings so we don't cross the line and get kicked off all the programs he's going to need? Should we obtain guardianship? I explain all this to people who don't have special needs kids and sometimes I can tell, while they're nodding sympathetically, what they're really thinking is "I'm so glad that's you and not me".
Here is what I have come to realize, after years of following special needs and autism issues: People care about people with autism and intellectual disability, especially little kids. Who doesn't love little kids? Teenagers and adults, maybe not so much- they're big, and sometimes they don't really act like adults, and they do and say strange or even socially inappropriate things and people aren't usually sure how to respond to all that. Actually, I should say this: people care, until they realize that really caring involves more than just platitudes- it involves resources. Like, you know, money. Then it's time for "Well, you're such a great mom; that's why God gave you such a special son".
The Son of Never Stops Eating is a great kid. He filled out (with spelling help) his own job application and aced an interview after practicing with his life skills teacher at school. He is a great artist. He loves hamsters and going to church and talking about his Legos to anyone who shows interest. He can identify more birds than most Americans. He loves chocolate chip pancakes on Saturday mornings with the local Breakfast Club, which has become his second family. However, some things throw him for a loop: FICA taxes, spam phone calls and texts on his cell phone, questions from cashiers about whether or not he wants to donate to a charity, whether or not he's legal to work, what his disability really means for him. I want him to be as independent as he possibly can, and our family has worked tirelessly towards that goal. I also know that he will need help making independence happen.
What our society seems to not quite get yet, or gets but doesn't want to follow through on, is that real help requires actual funding and work. Schools need more funding to provide more educators, like the teachers and classroom aides that the Son of Never Stops Eating has been fortunate to have, and resources for those teachers to do their jobs. Families need help with respite care, with paying for therapy, with planning for their child's future. Adults need help with job training and coaching, finding a safe and affordable place to live with the limited resources many have, with transportation, with making social connections, with navigating the complicated work of being an adult in 21st century America. It is an absolute shame that in a state that claims to place a high priority on "family values", the Son of Never Stops Eating has been on waiting lists to be evaluated for services since 2009.
Early on in my own autism mom journey, I thought that making people aware would be enough, that people not directly affected by autism or intellectual disability would bring that awareness into their worldview and act accordingly. I no longer think this. Now I realize that until our society accepts, embraces, and acts on the idea that all people deserve to live a life with dignity, with access to human needs like meaningful work and a clean, safe place to live and access to medical care, nothing much will change, and while I'd like to say I see that change happening, I can't. Until it does, I will keep doing what I do, just like so many other parents in my situation- working through a system that is seemingly purposefully designed to keep people from getting what they need to accomplish what every parent wants for a child- a good life.
When The College Student got her first job, she did everything on her own. I think I might have told her to take zero deductions on the W-2 form. For the Son of Never Stops Eating, a little more assistance was required; for example, I had to explain the question "Are you legal to work in the United States?" and I also had to call his life planner, because planning for special needs issues is beyond complicated and I'd rather get bitten by a venomous snake than do my son's special needs life planning without professional guidance. I had to make sure that (1) it was OK for him to work over the summer, and (2) find out how much I could allow him to make and not risk losing eligibility for SSI/SSDI at 18, because I need him to eventually be on Medicare so that I know he will have health insurance. Then I had to explain all the answers to his prospective boss.
That is the thing about parenting a special needs about to be young adult- my mind is constantly working through scenarios: What will he do after high school? Where will he eventually live? How will he get around? What kind of work will he do? How will we keep track of his earnings so we don't cross the line and get kicked off all the programs he's going to need? Should we obtain guardianship? I explain all this to people who don't have special needs kids and sometimes I can tell, while they're nodding sympathetically, what they're really thinking is "I'm so glad that's you and not me".
Here is what I have come to realize, after years of following special needs and autism issues: People care about people with autism and intellectual disability, especially little kids. Who doesn't love little kids? Teenagers and adults, maybe not so much- they're big, and sometimes they don't really act like adults, and they do and say strange or even socially inappropriate things and people aren't usually sure how to respond to all that. Actually, I should say this: people care, until they realize that really caring involves more than just platitudes- it involves resources. Like, you know, money. Then it's time for "Well, you're such a great mom; that's why God gave you such a special son".
The Son of Never Stops Eating is a great kid. He filled out (with spelling help) his own job application and aced an interview after practicing with his life skills teacher at school. He is a great artist. He loves hamsters and going to church and talking about his Legos to anyone who shows interest. He can identify more birds than most Americans. He loves chocolate chip pancakes on Saturday mornings with the local Breakfast Club, which has become his second family. However, some things throw him for a loop: FICA taxes, spam phone calls and texts on his cell phone, questions from cashiers about whether or not he wants to donate to a charity, whether or not he's legal to work, what his disability really means for him. I want him to be as independent as he possibly can, and our family has worked tirelessly towards that goal. I also know that he will need help making independence happen.
What our society seems to not quite get yet, or gets but doesn't want to follow through on, is that real help requires actual funding and work. Schools need more funding to provide more educators, like the teachers and classroom aides that the Son of Never Stops Eating has been fortunate to have, and resources for those teachers to do their jobs. Families need help with respite care, with paying for therapy, with planning for their child's future. Adults need help with job training and coaching, finding a safe and affordable place to live with the limited resources many have, with transportation, with making social connections, with navigating the complicated work of being an adult in 21st century America. It is an absolute shame that in a state that claims to place a high priority on "family values", the Son of Never Stops Eating has been on waiting lists to be evaluated for services since 2009.
Early on in my own autism mom journey, I thought that making people aware would be enough, that people not directly affected by autism or intellectual disability would bring that awareness into their worldview and act accordingly. I no longer think this. Now I realize that until our society accepts, embraces, and acts on the idea that all people deserve to live a life with dignity, with access to human needs like meaningful work and a clean, safe place to live and access to medical care, nothing much will change, and while I'd like to say I see that change happening, I can't. Until it does, I will keep doing what I do, just like so many other parents in my situation- working through a system that is seemingly purposefully designed to keep people from getting what they need to accomplish what every parent wants for a child- a good life.
Saturday, March 23, 2019
Decluttering with the Mom of No
Spring is the season of many things - Spring Break, Easter candy (Marshmallow peeps, yum!), March Madness, migratory birds, butterflies, snakes emerging from their hideouts, the countdown to summer vacay (if you're a kid), dandelions, and spring cleaning. The way that the Mom of No usually approaches spring cleaning is to talk about doing it but to not ever really get around to doing it- the idea of a sparkling clean and organized house sounds good in theory but in practice, when it comes down to a choice between cleaning out closets and hitting the trails, well- I have my priorities.
This year, however, I have become fascinated with Tidying Up with Marie Kondo. I haven't read the book or watched the TV show but I've seen some You Tube videos and I feel like I have a grasp on the general idea, which is to get rid of things that don't bring you joy- and to fold your shirts and undergarments in a way that looks neat and makes it easier to find things in your dresser. Since I get up for work at 4:45 AM and am usually fumbling around in the dark looking for my shoes, I can appreciate the idea of making your life less cluttered and easier to navigate in the dark.
My first attempt at tidying up was not at home, however; it was at work. The idea of getting rid of the items that don't bring you joy does not translate well to the cubicle farm; I quickly found out that the things that bring me joy (my snow globe collection and my coffee cup) are not the things that I need to meet the metrics of acceptable performance on my annual performance evaluation. I did, however, toss out a bunch of outdated manuals from 2009 and some floppy disks that were the height of technology back in 1991. I'm not sure what is going on with those; I thought I had gotten rid of all the floppy disks back in 2011 during a cubicle move, but maybe someone else decided to declutter his or her cubicle by leaving them in my cubicle in a late night sneaky ninja operation.
I then decided to give tidying up a whirl at home. The older I get, the more I like the idea of living an uncluttered and simple life. Sometimes I have daydreams in which I reduce my possessions down to what will fit in a Casita camper and I spend my remaining years on the planet driving from national park to national park, sitting by a campfire at night sipping hot cocoa out of my only mug while listening to barred owls asking who cooks for you, who cooks for you all.
The problem with this is that I start wondering, well, what do I do with all the other mugs that I have? Because I have a lot of mugs, and some of them (ok, most of them) have some kind of sentimental value attached to them, and they're really cute and funny, and I don't want to throw them away because that would be wasteful, but based on trips to charity thrift stores, I'm guessing that they probably don't want my mugs either because they already have quite a few, and I could try selling them at a garage sale but I'm not sure anyone would buy them because everyone else is also looking in their kitchen cabinets thinking, wow, where did I get all these mugs?
I have this same problem with almost every other object that I think about removing from my house. I decided to start with the low hanging fruit, which would be my closet, and immediately started with the "Well, this doesn't bring me joy NOW but if I LOST TEN POUNDS it would bring me joy then!" This is when the Dad of No interjected with "Yeah, but you bought that ten years ago and even if it did fit, would it be in style?". Honestly, it probably wasn't in style when I bought it. I'm not really a stylish fashion maven even on my best days.
I feel badly when I get rid of things, especially when I throw things out, because I feel like I'm being wasteful (use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without). I have no problem throwing away socks with holes in them. But Christmas-themed socks that the Grandmother of No gave me fifteen years ago? I have worn them once, and have no plans to do so again, but there is still plenty of wear in them, and who wants used socks? I have a whole list of things that I've found that I don't really need but I don't know what to do with either- old scrapbooking paper, a Sew Cute tiny sewing machine that the Grandma of No gave the College Student years ago (I think it got used once or twice), those reusable bags with drawstrings that you use like a backpack, those free little bags I used to get with cosmetics back when I wore makeup, and more. I don't need any of this stuff, but I'm not sure how to remove it from my life without feeling like I'm being wasteful, either.
If anything has come out of this faltering attempt to declutter the house, it's a renewed resolution to just not buy anything else*. If I don't buy it now, then I won't be asking myself if this object brings me joy in fifteen years because I won't own it in the first place. Maybe I can declutter my house by attrition, which seems to be a much painless way to go about it. I'll let you know how it works out and where you can watch my new You Tube videos when I master this method.
*This doesn't apply to cameras, hiking boots, outdoor equipment, consumables (bring on the Marshmallow peeps), books and field guides, replacing things that have broken, T-shirts from cool places, local bands, or with funny sayings on them, and snow globes. Now that I cleared out those old manuals, I have room for more snow globes.
This year, however, I have become fascinated with Tidying Up with Marie Kondo. I haven't read the book or watched the TV show but I've seen some You Tube videos and I feel like I have a grasp on the general idea, which is to get rid of things that don't bring you joy- and to fold your shirts and undergarments in a way that looks neat and makes it easier to find things in your dresser. Since I get up for work at 4:45 AM and am usually fumbling around in the dark looking for my shoes, I can appreciate the idea of making your life less cluttered and easier to navigate in the dark.
My first attempt at tidying up was not at home, however; it was at work. The idea of getting rid of the items that don't bring you joy does not translate well to the cubicle farm; I quickly found out that the things that bring me joy (my snow globe collection and my coffee cup) are not the things that I need to meet the metrics of acceptable performance on my annual performance evaluation. I did, however, toss out a bunch of outdated manuals from 2009 and some floppy disks that were the height of technology back in 1991. I'm not sure what is going on with those; I thought I had gotten rid of all the floppy disks back in 2011 during a cubicle move, but maybe someone else decided to declutter his or her cubicle by leaving them in my cubicle in a late night sneaky ninja operation.
I then decided to give tidying up a whirl at home. The older I get, the more I like the idea of living an uncluttered and simple life. Sometimes I have daydreams in which I reduce my possessions down to what will fit in a Casita camper and I spend my remaining years on the planet driving from national park to national park, sitting by a campfire at night sipping hot cocoa out of my only mug while listening to barred owls asking who cooks for you, who cooks for you all.
The problem with this is that I start wondering, well, what do I do with all the other mugs that I have? Because I have a lot of mugs, and some of them (ok, most of them) have some kind of sentimental value attached to them, and they're really cute and funny, and I don't want to throw them away because that would be wasteful, but based on trips to charity thrift stores, I'm guessing that they probably don't want my mugs either because they already have quite a few, and I could try selling them at a garage sale but I'm not sure anyone would buy them because everyone else is also looking in their kitchen cabinets thinking, wow, where did I get all these mugs?
I have this same problem with almost every other object that I think about removing from my house. I decided to start with the low hanging fruit, which would be my closet, and immediately started with the "Well, this doesn't bring me joy NOW but if I LOST TEN POUNDS it would bring me joy then!" This is when the Dad of No interjected with "Yeah, but you bought that ten years ago and even if it did fit, would it be in style?". Honestly, it probably wasn't in style when I bought it. I'm not really a stylish fashion maven even on my best days.
I feel badly when I get rid of things, especially when I throw things out, because I feel like I'm being wasteful (use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without). I have no problem throwing away socks with holes in them. But Christmas-themed socks that the Grandmother of No gave me fifteen years ago? I have worn them once, and have no plans to do so again, but there is still plenty of wear in them, and who wants used socks? I have a whole list of things that I've found that I don't really need but I don't know what to do with either- old scrapbooking paper, a Sew Cute tiny sewing machine that the Grandma of No gave the College Student years ago (I think it got used once or twice), those reusable bags with drawstrings that you use like a backpack, those free little bags I used to get with cosmetics back when I wore makeup, and more. I don't need any of this stuff, but I'm not sure how to remove it from my life without feeling like I'm being wasteful, either.
If anything has come out of this faltering attempt to declutter the house, it's a renewed resolution to just not buy anything else*. If I don't buy it now, then I won't be asking myself if this object brings me joy in fifteen years because I won't own it in the first place. Maybe I can declutter my house by attrition, which seems to be a much painless way to go about it. I'll let you know how it works out and where you can watch my new You Tube videos when I master this method.
*This doesn't apply to cameras, hiking boots, outdoor equipment, consumables (bring on the Marshmallow peeps), books and field guides, replacing things that have broken, T-shirts from cool places, local bands, or with funny sayings on them, and snow globes. Now that I cleared out those old manuals, I have room for more snow globes.
Monday, March 18, 2019
The Marsh Project Week #41
I blinked my eyes and spring arrived.
One day the trees were starting to bud out, and the next day- or so it seemed- robins were everywhere amongst the leafing-out trees. The trail is partially flooded again, but most of it is still accessible, at least to the intrepid with mud boots, and I'm taking full advantage of the later hours and the beautiful weather. Even the air smells clean and slightly scented; I want to bottle it and save it for later. As I walk in the early evening, I close my eyes briefly and stand still, hearing the chirps, and the woodpeckers, and the distinctive "whoo cooks for you...who cooks for you all" of the barred owl who has taken up residence in a tree near the trail. I imagine that I can hear the wings of butterflies and the dragonflies- who have not yet arrived but are surely on their way- moving through the air as they approach my neck of the woods.
When I wrote that robins were everywhere, I mean that along some portions of the trail, they are really everywhere. I would be walking down the trail and suddenly a burst of robins would explode from the ground, perching in trees just beyond my eyeball's reach. As I walked down the trail this afternoon, I noticed, amongst the robins, a lone tufted titmouse, hopping along on the ground cover. I made an attempt at a photo, but all the robins and the tufted titmouse thwarted my efforts and flew away. Well, perhaps another day. Nothing wants to stand still!
Besides- the butterflies are coming! Two weeks ago, nary a butterfly except for one or two faded question marks- but starting this past weekend, every day brings something new. Yesterday I got my first photo observation of a butterfly I've been trying to get for at least a year, a Falcate Orangetip. An hour later, I got another observation of a butterfly I have never seen before on the trail, a Henry's Elfin. Two firsts for my iNaturalist project in one day; that's as good as Christmas. On Saturday I think I saw a tattered monarch, but it flew away before I could get a close enough look to be sure. If it was a monarch, there will (hopefully) be more.
Warmer weather also means snakes. When I hike the trail, sometimes I'll have people ask me (I must give off a "I hike here ALL THE TIME" vibe, because I get asked questions a lot) if there are any snakes on the trail. I'm never entirely sure what to tell them because the answer is "yes", but I don't want them running away in terror, either. Unless you're looking really closely you'll probably miss quite a few of them; they're quite good at camouflage. I often wonder just what I'm missing when I hike; for every thing I see, I'm probably missing so much more.
Finally, because of the release from the dam, the pelicans are back. I could spend hours watching them fish and float on the river; I stop and tell myself that I am only going to watch for a few minutes and then before I know it, 30 minutes have gone by and it is almost time to leave. Even the pelicans seems brighter; I don't know if it is the late afternoon light or the pelicans themselves.
Soon enough it will be hot (dragonflies!), and summer will have arrived, but for now the Earth is waking up, and everything seems fresh and new.
One day the trees were starting to bud out, and the next day- or so it seemed- robins were everywhere amongst the leafing-out trees. The trail is partially flooded again, but most of it is still accessible, at least to the intrepid with mud boots, and I'm taking full advantage of the later hours and the beautiful weather. Even the air smells clean and slightly scented; I want to bottle it and save it for later. As I walk in the early evening, I close my eyes briefly and stand still, hearing the chirps, and the woodpeckers, and the distinctive "whoo cooks for you...who cooks for you all" of the barred owl who has taken up residence in a tree near the trail. I imagine that I can hear the wings of butterflies and the dragonflies- who have not yet arrived but are surely on their way- moving through the air as they approach my neck of the woods.
When I wrote that robins were everywhere, I mean that along some portions of the trail, they are really everywhere. I would be walking down the trail and suddenly a burst of robins would explode from the ground, perching in trees just beyond my eyeball's reach. As I walked down the trail this afternoon, I noticed, amongst the robins, a lone tufted titmouse, hopping along on the ground cover. I made an attempt at a photo, but all the robins and the tufted titmouse thwarted my efforts and flew away. Well, perhaps another day. Nothing wants to stand still!
Besides- the butterflies are coming! Two weeks ago, nary a butterfly except for one or two faded question marks- but starting this past weekend, every day brings something new. Yesterday I got my first photo observation of a butterfly I've been trying to get for at least a year, a Falcate Orangetip. An hour later, I got another observation of a butterfly I have never seen before on the trail, a Henry's Elfin. Two firsts for my iNaturalist project in one day; that's as good as Christmas. On Saturday I think I saw a tattered monarch, but it flew away before I could get a close enough look to be sure. If it was a monarch, there will (hopefully) be more.
Warmer weather also means snakes. When I hike the trail, sometimes I'll have people ask me (I must give off a "I hike here ALL THE TIME" vibe, because I get asked questions a lot) if there are any snakes on the trail. I'm never entirely sure what to tell them because the answer is "yes", but I don't want them running away in terror, either. Unless you're looking really closely you'll probably miss quite a few of them; they're quite good at camouflage. I often wonder just what I'm missing when I hike; for every thing I see, I'm probably missing so much more.
Finally, because of the release from the dam, the pelicans are back. I could spend hours watching them fish and float on the river; I stop and tell myself that I am only going to watch for a few minutes and then before I know it, 30 minutes have gone by and it is almost time to leave. Even the pelicans seems brighter; I don't know if it is the late afternoon light or the pelicans themselves.
Soon enough it will be hot (dragonflies!), and summer will have arrived, but for now the Earth is waking up, and everything seems fresh and new.
Friday, March 15, 2019
Social Media Influencer
The Grandpa of No called me this evening just as I was finishing up my after work/start of the weekend hike. The College Student is currently on a Greyhound bus headed home for Spring Break (Airfare was over $1000 for a round trip ticket, much too rich for the Mom of No, so she's getting a closer look at America from a bus window). He wanted to know if I'd heard from her (no) and then he asked me, jokingly, hey, you didn't bribe her school to admit her, did you?
Like I have any money to bribe anyone for anything. I could offer maybe $50 along with a loaf of homemade banana bread. I don't think that would get me very far, although the banana bread is really good, especially when it's served warm with butter. No, I assured him, no bribes. The College Student managed to obtain admission to her institution of higher education without any financial shenanigans on my part.
What fascinates me about this entire college admissions bribery scandal is that apparently it is possible to find work as a "social media influencer". I've now heard this term twice in the last two weeks and I'm honestly not even sure what that is. How do you become a social media influencer? Who determines what makes a good social media influencer? Is there a job description out there on the Internet somewhere? Are auditions required, or do you just start posting stuff on Facebook and hope that some Social Media Influencer talent scout finds you? How did these people get to be so influential when they don't seem to have actually done anything? (This is where, upon re-reading, I realize that I really am starting to sound like the Grandpa of No).
When I was in high school, I wanted very badly to have the same awkwardly cool flair that Molly Ringwald possessed in Sixteen Candles or The Breakfast Club. I was absolutely convinced that if I had the same magic touch with my appearance that I believed that she did in those movies, I would become popular and confident instead of the nerdy science-fiction reading introvert that I was. That, and thinking that if I could somehow become part of Duran Duran all my problems would go away, is probably the closest I can relate to being influenced by someone famous. I'm now 49 and definitely not a part of the cool crowd, so it's highly possible this social media influencer gig has been a thing for awhile and I'm just now finding out about it, but I'm very baffled by it.
I think, however, that I would be a great social media influencer. Not because I possess any ability whatsoever to convince people to buy more stuff that they really don't need (the Mom of No has been making mostly fruitless and frustrating attempts to Kon-Mari her house, more on that later, it's a sad story, but really- it would be much easier if I had just bought less stuff in the first place, let this be a lesson to you, young whippersnappers- reject the urge to accumulate stuff while you still have a relatively uncluttered life), but because after raising two kids and living almost half a century, I think I have a lot of wisdom to share with others. Maybe not fashion advice, I don't really have any talent there, but I do have other insights I think the world needs.
For example, if I could get a social media influencer job in which I convince millions of Americans to quit throwing their plastic water bottles, foam soft drink cups, cigarette butts, empty plastic shopping bags, fast food wrappers, underwear*, and other detritus out of their cars onto roadway medians, I would absolutely consider that time well spent. If people can be convinced that by buying a certain brand of shoes their dreams will all come true, why can't people be convinced that picking up your trash (or at least not tossing it out the car window) is every American's patriotic duty?
Or, I'd like to convince people to back away from the social media and pick up a book. You can get books free from the local library, so there might not be a lot of money to be made in influencing people to read more. However, our society would benefit if people talked more about great books they'd read and less about what some famous for being famous people posted on social media. A social media influencer trying to convince people not to be on social media might sound like a self-defeating proposal but if I found myself out of a social media influencer job because people were reading more, I'd consider that a winning situation.
If those don't attract the Social Media Influencer deciders, perhaps "Birding is for Everyone" will. Instead of spending hours on social media looking at inaccurate and oversimplified political memes and getting into fights on Facebook groups with strangers, people would start talking about their birding life lists. Going outside with your kids, a pair of binoculars and a good birding field guide would become the new "in" activity. If I were an influencer, I would influence people to go outside and look at nature's beauty.
Maybe what I really want to know is why do so many people care what these people, who seem to be famous for no reason at all other than they take good selfies, think?
Anyway, I won't be quitting my day job anytime soon; I have bills to pay- apparently the mortgage company to be paid with money, not baked goods- and I think I might be waiting awhile for the Social Media Influencer Initiation Committee, to come a-calling. However, if I could influence you to do just one thing- please, don't throw your underwear onto our Adopt-a-Spot.
*The Son of Never Stops Eating and I have, on multiple occasions, picked up underwear from our Adopt-a-Spot. We're both wondering who goes driving down the road at 35 MPH tossing underwear out of their vehicle windows onto the side of the road.
Like I have any money to bribe anyone for anything. I could offer maybe $50 along with a loaf of homemade banana bread. I don't think that would get me very far, although the banana bread is really good, especially when it's served warm with butter. No, I assured him, no bribes. The College Student managed to obtain admission to her institution of higher education without any financial shenanigans on my part.
What fascinates me about this entire college admissions bribery scandal is that apparently it is possible to find work as a "social media influencer". I've now heard this term twice in the last two weeks and I'm honestly not even sure what that is. How do you become a social media influencer? Who determines what makes a good social media influencer? Is there a job description out there on the Internet somewhere? Are auditions required, or do you just start posting stuff on Facebook and hope that some Social Media Influencer talent scout finds you? How did these people get to be so influential when they don't seem to have actually done anything? (This is where, upon re-reading, I realize that I really am starting to sound like the Grandpa of No).
When I was in high school, I wanted very badly to have the same awkwardly cool flair that Molly Ringwald possessed in Sixteen Candles or The Breakfast Club. I was absolutely convinced that if I had the same magic touch with my appearance that I believed that she did in those movies, I would become popular and confident instead of the nerdy science-fiction reading introvert that I was. That, and thinking that if I could somehow become part of Duran Duran all my problems would go away, is probably the closest I can relate to being influenced by someone famous. I'm now 49 and definitely not a part of the cool crowd, so it's highly possible this social media influencer gig has been a thing for awhile and I'm just now finding out about it, but I'm very baffled by it.
I think, however, that I would be a great social media influencer. Not because I possess any ability whatsoever to convince people to buy more stuff that they really don't need (the Mom of No has been making mostly fruitless and frustrating attempts to Kon-Mari her house, more on that later, it's a sad story, but really- it would be much easier if I had just bought less stuff in the first place, let this be a lesson to you, young whippersnappers- reject the urge to accumulate stuff while you still have a relatively uncluttered life), but because after raising two kids and living almost half a century, I think I have a lot of wisdom to share with others. Maybe not fashion advice, I don't really have any talent there, but I do have other insights I think the world needs.
For example, if I could get a social media influencer job in which I convince millions of Americans to quit throwing their plastic water bottles, foam soft drink cups, cigarette butts, empty plastic shopping bags, fast food wrappers, underwear*, and other detritus out of their cars onto roadway medians, I would absolutely consider that time well spent. If people can be convinced that by buying a certain brand of shoes their dreams will all come true, why can't people be convinced that picking up your trash (or at least not tossing it out the car window) is every American's patriotic duty?
Or, I'd like to convince people to back away from the social media and pick up a book. You can get books free from the local library, so there might not be a lot of money to be made in influencing people to read more. However, our society would benefit if people talked more about great books they'd read and less about what some famous for being famous people posted on social media. A social media influencer trying to convince people not to be on social media might sound like a self-defeating proposal but if I found myself out of a social media influencer job because people were reading more, I'd consider that a winning situation.
If those don't attract the Social Media Influencer deciders, perhaps "Birding is for Everyone" will. Instead of spending hours on social media looking at inaccurate and oversimplified political memes and getting into fights on Facebook groups with strangers, people would start talking about their birding life lists. Going outside with your kids, a pair of binoculars and a good birding field guide would become the new "in" activity. If I were an influencer, I would influence people to go outside and look at nature's beauty.
Maybe what I really want to know is why do so many people care what these people, who seem to be famous for no reason at all other than they take good selfies, think?
Anyway, I won't be quitting my day job anytime soon; I have bills to pay- apparently the mortgage company to be paid with money, not baked goods- and I think I might be waiting awhile for the Social Media Influencer Initiation Committee, to come a-calling. However, if I could influence you to do just one thing- please, don't throw your underwear onto our Adopt-a-Spot.
*The Son of Never Stops Eating and I have, on multiple occasions, picked up underwear from our Adopt-a-Spot. We're both wondering who goes driving down the road at 35 MPH tossing underwear out of their vehicle windows onto the side of the road.
Sunday, March 3, 2019
The Marsh Project Week #40
Wildlife Photography Lesson #1: Remember to check your camera before you leave home to make sure that the memory card is still in it.
Last Friday, March 1, was the first day of the year that the nature preserve was open until 7 PM. Spring is supposed to be approaching, although you wouldn't know it from the current cloudy, windy, misty weather. The weather conditions, however, were not as important as being able to stay out until dusk in one of my favorite places on the planet. As soon as I got home from work and got a quick snack, I grabbed the camera and my backpack and rushed out to the trail.
As I passed the gatehouse and drove down the road, I saw a bobcat cross the pavement. As I got closer, I could see that he was still standing close to the road on the trail. This was a great start to the hike! I hadn't even gotten out of the car and the wildlife was already finding me! I stopped, rolled down the window, turned on the camera, and got the message "No Memory Disk". I'd probably left it at home in the computer. Not to worry, I thought. I had another one in my backpack. I grabbed it, put it in the camera, and looked up to see that the bobcat had decided to go on its way.
Lesson learned: Check camera before leaving house. Otherwise, this might be all you get.
I mentally beat myself up for the next hour. I know better than this. Grandpa of No's favorite advice was to never forget the 6P's- Proper Prior Planning Prevents Poor Performance. (When I got older, he stuck a 7th P in there, so it became Proper Prior Planning Prevents Piss Poor Performance"). Chances were good that no matter what else I saw, I'd missed my chance to get at least a decent photo of a bobcat. It didn't help that not much else was stirring, and what was stirring was hiding- I settled for taking a photo of a well-gnawed tree at the blind. I was hoping that the gnawer of the tree would make an appearance, but that didn't happen.
I also found a neotropic cormorant standing on a tree. Secondary lesson learned here: Check the bird guides before entering this bird into iNaturalist, because I get neotropic and double crested cormorants confused, and I picked the wrong one. Last Friday was a day of reinforcing lessons I should already know; the Nature Gods must think I'm slacking off or something.
Even though I still had time, the light (or what light I had on a cloudy, cold day) was withdrawing. I headed back to the trailhead, still mentally giving myself a tongue-lashing for forgetting the 7P's. I get a lot of great observations, but I don't see a lot of bobcats. As I turned to go back to the parking lot, I thought to myself that I still had a few minutes before the light got unworkable, so I wandered over to the riprap by the outlet works of the dam, and:
I stood and watched the bobcat as it walked on the riprap. At one point it glanced up in my direction and turned to go back into the vegetation on the left side of the trail. I stood still for a few seconds and it then turned back again and headed towards the river, where about ten great blue herons were standing in the water. The bobcat sat at the river's edge, looking towards the water and the herons. What its plans were I did not know, but I did know that it was time for me to head to the house. The Nature Photography Gods had given me a second chance.
Last Friday, March 1, was the first day of the year that the nature preserve was open until 7 PM. Spring is supposed to be approaching, although you wouldn't know it from the current cloudy, windy, misty weather. The weather conditions, however, were not as important as being able to stay out until dusk in one of my favorite places on the planet. As soon as I got home from work and got a quick snack, I grabbed the camera and my backpack and rushed out to the trail.
As I passed the gatehouse and drove down the road, I saw a bobcat cross the pavement. As I got closer, I could see that he was still standing close to the road on the trail. This was a great start to the hike! I hadn't even gotten out of the car and the wildlife was already finding me! I stopped, rolled down the window, turned on the camera, and got the message "No Memory Disk". I'd probably left it at home in the computer. Not to worry, I thought. I had another one in my backpack. I grabbed it, put it in the camera, and looked up to see that the bobcat had decided to go on its way.
Lesson learned: Check camera before leaving house. Otherwise, this might be all you get.
I mentally beat myself up for the next hour. I know better than this. Grandpa of No's favorite advice was to never forget the 6P's- Proper Prior Planning Prevents Poor Performance. (When I got older, he stuck a 7th P in there, so it became Proper Prior Planning Prevents Piss Poor Performance"). Chances were good that no matter what else I saw, I'd missed my chance to get at least a decent photo of a bobcat. It didn't help that not much else was stirring, and what was stirring was hiding- I settled for taking a photo of a well-gnawed tree at the blind. I was hoping that the gnawer of the tree would make an appearance, but that didn't happen.
I also found a neotropic cormorant standing on a tree. Secondary lesson learned here: Check the bird guides before entering this bird into iNaturalist, because I get neotropic and double crested cormorants confused, and I picked the wrong one. Last Friday was a day of reinforcing lessons I should already know; the Nature Gods must think I'm slacking off or something.
Even though I still had time, the light (or what light I had on a cloudy, cold day) was withdrawing. I headed back to the trailhead, still mentally giving myself a tongue-lashing for forgetting the 7P's. I get a lot of great observations, but I don't see a lot of bobcats. As I turned to go back to the parking lot, I thought to myself that I still had a few minutes before the light got unworkable, so I wandered over to the riprap by the outlet works of the dam, and:
I stood and watched the bobcat as it walked on the riprap. At one point it glanced up in my direction and turned to go back into the vegetation on the left side of the trail. I stood still for a few seconds and it then turned back again and headed towards the river, where about ten great blue herons were standing in the water. The bobcat sat at the river's edge, looking towards the water and the herons. What its plans were I did not know, but I did know that it was time for me to head to the house. The Nature Photography Gods had given me a second chance.
Tuesday, February 19, 2019
Nothing is Ever Easy
Warning: This is a whiny post. I'll toss in a photo of a cute bird or something so you don't feel entirely brought down low, but I'm blogging while cranky so just know, you were warned.
I think it must be late-stage perimenopause, or plots by The Man to make life miserable, or just general frustration at modern life, but really, why does everything have to be so complicated? Well, one thing in the last 2 weeks has been easy; I went to the dermatologist and got a clean bill of skin health, and I didn't even have to get weighed or lectured on eating too much salt or not getting enough exercise or that dental hygienist look that says "I know you're not flossing". So I'm grateful for that.
In my e-mail today I received notice that two of the hotel rewards programs I got talked into joining are combining into one, so I needed to login to one account and press a button, and lo and behold, my points would transfer over and then I would be even closer to a free room or free magazines or whatever the rewards were. I'm honestly terrible at keeping up with all these rewards programs, but I didn't want to lose my points, because they were free and I don't want to give up so easily on something that was free, so I logged in and then was asked for the membership number for the other rewards program, which I didn't have, so I had to go find that and then it still didn't work, and after about six minutes of trying to figure out what the hell was going on now, I realized that I was leaving off one digit of the membership number, which was about twenty digits long. Then the website crashed and I was instructed to try again later.
Medical insurance claims are another thing that always seems to get complicated. A few months ago I had a thankfully brief emergency room visit after I woke up one morning and it felt like I was about to give birth to a full-grown T-Rex with giant claws and a really bad attitude. Since there are all kinds of moving parts in the abdomen, who knew what was going on in there? Appendicitis? Really bad stomach virus? Food poisoning? About the only thing that could be reliably ruled out was a gallbladder attack, since I no longer have a gallbladder. So off to the ER we go, and at some point the ER staff put some anti-nausea meds in the IV or maybe they injected it, I couldn't tell you, but about four months later I have now learned that apparently -at least in this specific instance- I could have all the Zofran my doctor wanted to prescribe in pill form, but when it's injected, it's considered experimental unless you're undergoing chemotherapy and if it's considered experimental then the insurance company balks at paying for it and it takes forever to get the claim processed and meanwhile the hospital is nagging you about paying a bill for a two hour ER visit that about equals a year's tuition, room and board at an in-state university.
Kids, there is a lesson here, and that lesson is this: Much of adult life makes absolutely no logical sense whatsoever. Also, you should be aware that when seeking health care while in serious pain, you're evidently expected to ask questions like, "Is this substance that you are injecting into my IV covered by my health insurance policy?".
The tire pressure gauge in my car is another source of low-key frustration. My old car didn't have a tire pressure gauge so you had no idea if there were problems with the tires until one actually went flat. I rarely thought about the tires unless I started feeling that thunkety-thunkety, then I knew, hey, I have a problem! Then I bought a new car that came with the tire pressure warning light, and it goes off seemingly whenever it wants to- usually when it's pouring rain and I'm stuck in traffic. Then I have to decide, is it just the car being cranky? Because sometimes that light goes off and then it turns out that one tire just had slightly lower air pressure than the other three tires. However, sometimes that light goes off because there's a nail in the tire and a flat is getting ready to happen. Unfortunately, there's no way to know because the gauge doesn't give you that level of information. Also, driving with the orange tire pressure light on drives me nuts, because I'm the kind of person who needs all those lights to be off otherwise I'm driving down the freeway envisioning imminent disaster.
I also have life-planning for The Son of Never Stops Eating frustration. He wants to get a part-time job, which I think is great. But since we will probably be applying for him to receive disability benefits when he reaches 18, he can't make too much money. So the question is, how much is too much? When the College Student got her first job, I didn't think about that at all other than "Just make sure to keep the grades up". The stakes are higher here. If he makes too much money then he can be disqualified, apparently forever, from certain benefits. So he can make so much per month, but I have to keep track of his pay periods, because if he gets paid every other week then there are two months of the year that are three paycheck months, and one of those paychecks could drive him over that threshold, and then well, we're pretty much doomed because I messed up and he made $5 more than he's allowed. So when he does get a job, I'll have to have a conversation with his boss, who will probably be thinking I'm some helicopter mother with all these rules about how much the kid can make and how many hours he can work. It's not me making this complicated, honestly. It's The Man. If it were up to me, it would not be this complicated. A lot of these rules seem to derive from the idea that we don't want people working the system to get more than they should get, but now there are so many rules it's nearly impossible not to screw something up even if your intentions are completely benign and honest.
I bet now you're thinking, hey, enough of these sad stories. If you were the Grandma of No, you'd point out that at least I'm lucky enough to have a car and health insurance, which is definitely true, and now that I've thought that I feel like a completely ungrateful person and I just need to suck it up, buttercup. Which I will, until the next time I do something that gets complicated when it doesn't need to be, like buying a pair of jeans or figuring out the best way to get TV at the house. So here's the cute bird I promised.
I think it must be late-stage perimenopause, or plots by The Man to make life miserable, or just general frustration at modern life, but really, why does everything have to be so complicated? Well, one thing in the last 2 weeks has been easy; I went to the dermatologist and got a clean bill of skin health, and I didn't even have to get weighed or lectured on eating too much salt or not getting enough exercise or that dental hygienist look that says "I know you're not flossing". So I'm grateful for that.
In my e-mail today I received notice that two of the hotel rewards programs I got talked into joining are combining into one, so I needed to login to one account and press a button, and lo and behold, my points would transfer over and then I would be even closer to a free room or free magazines or whatever the rewards were. I'm honestly terrible at keeping up with all these rewards programs, but I didn't want to lose my points, because they were free and I don't want to give up so easily on something that was free, so I logged in and then was asked for the membership number for the other rewards program, which I didn't have, so I had to go find that and then it still didn't work, and after about six minutes of trying to figure out what the hell was going on now, I realized that I was leaving off one digit of the membership number, which was about twenty digits long. Then the website crashed and I was instructed to try again later.
Medical insurance claims are another thing that always seems to get complicated. A few months ago I had a thankfully brief emergency room visit after I woke up one morning and it felt like I was about to give birth to a full-grown T-Rex with giant claws and a really bad attitude. Since there are all kinds of moving parts in the abdomen, who knew what was going on in there? Appendicitis? Really bad stomach virus? Food poisoning? About the only thing that could be reliably ruled out was a gallbladder attack, since I no longer have a gallbladder. So off to the ER we go, and at some point the ER staff put some anti-nausea meds in the IV or maybe they injected it, I couldn't tell you, but about four months later I have now learned that apparently -at least in this specific instance- I could have all the Zofran my doctor wanted to prescribe in pill form, but when it's injected, it's considered experimental unless you're undergoing chemotherapy and if it's considered experimental then the insurance company balks at paying for it and it takes forever to get the claim processed and meanwhile the hospital is nagging you about paying a bill for a two hour ER visit that about equals a year's tuition, room and board at an in-state university.
Kids, there is a lesson here, and that lesson is this: Much of adult life makes absolutely no logical sense whatsoever. Also, you should be aware that when seeking health care while in serious pain, you're evidently expected to ask questions like, "Is this substance that you are injecting into my IV covered by my health insurance policy?".
The tire pressure gauge in my car is another source of low-key frustration. My old car didn't have a tire pressure gauge so you had no idea if there were problems with the tires until one actually went flat. I rarely thought about the tires unless I started feeling that thunkety-thunkety, then I knew, hey, I have a problem! Then I bought a new car that came with the tire pressure warning light, and it goes off seemingly whenever it wants to- usually when it's pouring rain and I'm stuck in traffic. Then I have to decide, is it just the car being cranky? Because sometimes that light goes off and then it turns out that one tire just had slightly lower air pressure than the other three tires. However, sometimes that light goes off because there's a nail in the tire and a flat is getting ready to happen. Unfortunately, there's no way to know because the gauge doesn't give you that level of information. Also, driving with the orange tire pressure light on drives me nuts, because I'm the kind of person who needs all those lights to be off otherwise I'm driving down the freeway envisioning imminent disaster.
I also have life-planning for The Son of Never Stops Eating frustration. He wants to get a part-time job, which I think is great. But since we will probably be applying for him to receive disability benefits when he reaches 18, he can't make too much money. So the question is, how much is too much? When the College Student got her first job, I didn't think about that at all other than "Just make sure to keep the grades up". The stakes are higher here. If he makes too much money then he can be disqualified, apparently forever, from certain benefits. So he can make so much per month, but I have to keep track of his pay periods, because if he gets paid every other week then there are two months of the year that are three paycheck months, and one of those paychecks could drive him over that threshold, and then well, we're pretty much doomed because I messed up and he made $5 more than he's allowed. So when he does get a job, I'll have to have a conversation with his boss, who will probably be thinking I'm some helicopter mother with all these rules about how much the kid can make and how many hours he can work. It's not me making this complicated, honestly. It's The Man. If it were up to me, it would not be this complicated. A lot of these rules seem to derive from the idea that we don't want people working the system to get more than they should get, but now there are so many rules it's nearly impossible not to screw something up even if your intentions are completely benign and honest.
I bet now you're thinking, hey, enough of these sad stories. If you were the Grandma of No, you'd point out that at least I'm lucky enough to have a car and health insurance, which is definitely true, and now that I've thought that I feel like a completely ungrateful person and I just need to suck it up, buttercup. Which I will, until the next time I do something that gets complicated when it doesn't need to be, like buying a pair of jeans or figuring out the best way to get TV at the house. So here's the cute bird I promised.
 |
Hermit Thrush
|
Saturday, February 9, 2019
The Marsh Project Week #39
The marsh trail is back! It was flooded, then closed for repairs, and after a long, agonizing wait, it's open once again!
I was so excited about this that I ventured out on a freezing, drizzling day just to see what was going on. I had low expectations but I didn't care; I needed to be on this trail. I layered up, crossed my fingers (which are still frozen even though I've been home for over an hour), and got in the car. As I drove towards my beloved trail, raindrops dotted the windshield. This was not what I wanted to see; I momentarily considered turning back and spending the afternoon binge-watching The Handmaid's Tale in the warmth of my living room. After deliberation, however, I decided that the trail was calling and I needed to answer even if I ended up a little damp.
As I made my way to the tall blind, it was obvious that the little birds were completely fine with the cold, dreary weather. The sparrows and ruby-crowned kinglets were out flying from branch to branch, and the downy woodpeckers were actively pecking away at promising trees. I tried for some great photos of a tiny ruby-crowned kinglet, but the bird decided that today was not my day and flew off. The regal great blue herons at the river's edge were willing to stand still, though. Great blue herons are the Buckingham Palace Queen's Guard of nature- no matter how cold or how annoying the lady with the camera is, they don't even move an eye.
In the distance, I could hear a belted kingfisher chattering. It was much too cold for snakes and too early in the year for dragonflies or butterflies, so it was me and the birds. Like the ruby crowned kinglets, the ducks in the ponds flew off as they heard me coming. I stood at the tall blind for awhile, looking at the remains of last summer's vegetation and thinking that I had seen a few trees beginning to bud out; spring (and the dragonflies) is not that far away.
As I made my way down the trail, I looked down to see two Harris' sparrows hopping around on the ground in front of me, pecking around in the ground cover. If they knew I was there, they didn't seem to care; they were busy about their own work. They were constantly moving and that made it harder to get a good photo, but good enough for ID is good enough for me.
On a whim, I decided to walk back to one of the other ponds. As I walked past it, something on one of the trees caught my eye- was that part of a tree, or was it a critter? A view through binoculars and the camera confirmed that it was a hairy beast of some kind, but what kind? I could not easily determine. I sat for a few minutes watching the mysterious hairy tree blob to see if it would move but of course it did not; finally it was time to go. Later, looking at the hairy blob on the computer, it was easier to see that it was a raccoon.
After that, it was time to go- my hands were freezing, the battery on the camera was blinking a warning, and the park was about to close. However, it had been a successful reunion, and I was glad I had ignored the raindrops on the windshield of the car.
I was so excited about this that I ventured out on a freezing, drizzling day just to see what was going on. I had low expectations but I didn't care; I needed to be on this trail. I layered up, crossed my fingers (which are still frozen even though I've been home for over an hour), and got in the car. As I drove towards my beloved trail, raindrops dotted the windshield. This was not what I wanted to see; I momentarily considered turning back and spending the afternoon binge-watching The Handmaid's Tale in the warmth of my living room. After deliberation, however, I decided that the trail was calling and I needed to answer even if I ended up a little damp.
As I made my way to the tall blind, it was obvious that the little birds were completely fine with the cold, dreary weather. The sparrows and ruby-crowned kinglets were out flying from branch to branch, and the downy woodpeckers were actively pecking away at promising trees. I tried for some great photos of a tiny ruby-crowned kinglet, but the bird decided that today was not my day and flew off. The regal great blue herons at the river's edge were willing to stand still, though. Great blue herons are the Buckingham Palace Queen's Guard of nature- no matter how cold or how annoying the lady with the camera is, they don't even move an eye.
In the distance, I could hear a belted kingfisher chattering. It was much too cold for snakes and too early in the year for dragonflies or butterflies, so it was me and the birds. Like the ruby crowned kinglets, the ducks in the ponds flew off as they heard me coming. I stood at the tall blind for awhile, looking at the remains of last summer's vegetation and thinking that I had seen a few trees beginning to bud out; spring (and the dragonflies) is not that far away.
As I made my way down the trail, I looked down to see two Harris' sparrows hopping around on the ground in front of me, pecking around in the ground cover. If they knew I was there, they didn't seem to care; they were busy about their own work. They were constantly moving and that made it harder to get a good photo, but good enough for ID is good enough for me.
On a whim, I decided to walk back to one of the other ponds. As I walked past it, something on one of the trees caught my eye- was that part of a tree, or was it a critter? A view through binoculars and the camera confirmed that it was a hairy beast of some kind, but what kind? I could not easily determine. I sat for a few minutes watching the mysterious hairy tree blob to see if it would move but of course it did not; finally it was time to go. Later, looking at the hairy blob on the computer, it was easier to see that it was a raccoon.
After that, it was time to go- my hands were freezing, the battery on the camera was blinking a warning, and the park was about to close. However, it had been a successful reunion, and I was glad I had ignored the raindrops on the windshield of the car.
Monday, January 21, 2019
Pelicans! Pelicans! Pelicans!
It's been awhile since I posted a Marsh Project post. I have several reasons for that: I got busy with the holidays, I needed to take a brief writing break because my brain needed a rest, and the marsh trail has been partially inaccessible due to flooding and rain. I'm putting that project on hiatus until the trail dries out a bit because right now all the posts would be the same: Look! Water! Mud! More mud! Look at all the mud! OMG, there is so much mud out here! So I'm going to focus on something different: American White Pelicans.
Sometimes when the good Lord taketh away, the good Lord also giveth- and in this instance, the good Lord gave American White Pelicans below the dam at the nature preserve. These pelicans show up when the dam is releasing massive amounts of water, and they usually stick around until the release goes back to normal. How the pelicans know the dam is releasing water, I do not know- but they do. Human fishermen also show up to take advantage of the fishing, which sometimes leads to unfortunate humankind-pelican interactions, like pelicans getting entangled in fishing line. Other birds- osprey, herons, egrets, cormorants, kingfishers, and bald eagles- also come looking for fish.
I could watch these pelicans for hours. OK, confession time: Sometimes I DO watch these pelicans for hours. I'll sit down with my camera on a rock, thinking that I'm only going to stay for a few minutes, and then the next thing I know the park is closing and the ranger is telling people it's time to go, or my stomach will start growling and I'll realize that I've been watching pelicans for almost two hours and it's time for lunch. One of my New Year's goals was to spend much less time on Facebook, so I figure that if I'm watching pelicans, I'm not on Facebook arguing about politics. Win-Win.
The pelicans are very entertaining to observe. They're huge birds, but wonderfully graceful in the air. They'll fly up from downstream towards the dam, looking like small pelican-shaped aircraft, until they get close to where they want to be, then they put their feet down to prepare for landing. They will float on the water, just kind of hanging out like a bunch of teenagers at the mall, until several of them will decide that it's fishing time. They'll rise up out of the water, wings flapping wildly, and all meet together in one spot. If you observe closely, often you'll see one pelican come out of that with a fish in its beak. It happens really quickly; I've concentrated my efforts on getting better at reading pelican body language so I can tell when this is getting ready to happen so I can be prepared with the camera, but that is definitely a work in progress.
I recently discovered that my camera has a sports function on it, and if you are using the sports function and you hold the photo-taking button (I'm sure it has a technically correct name; I just don't recall it right now) down, the camera will keep taking photos until you release the button. So, instead of taking thirty photos and getting three or four good ones, I can take two hundred photos and get three or four good ones. I mostly use the auto function of the camera because I'd rather be looking for wildlife to photograph rather than learning how to use the camera, but I might have to pull up the manual and read it; maybe there are other functions that would be useful.
I'm including some of the photos I've taken in the last few weeks so that if you have not been fortunate enough to see these birds IRL, you can get a glimpse of how great they are to watch and how beautiful they are. I'll be glad to have my marsh trail back for hiking, but I'll also be sad to see the pelicans go.
If you're intrigued, like I am, by these pelicans and want to learn more:
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)