Saturday,
March 20, 2004
Um, is it SUPPOSED to be 85 degrees out there?
I mean, don't get me wrong -- I like balmy weather as much as the next person, and it's a heck of a lot better than hip-deep snow. But this is MARCH, people. We're supposed to have temps in the sixties or seventies, maybe, not in the high eighties. I've already turned on the A/C because it was so sticky I couldn't get to sleep. If it's this hot in March, what's going to happen in July?
However, there've been some lightning flashes out there and the power's flickered a couple of times, so we may have some T-storms on the way -- that should take care of the heat and stickiness. I hope.
On the contract front, Lyndon is now set for hotel and car stuff. He's currently sorting out what clothes he needs to bring, and copying music and software CDs so that he can study up on stuff while he's over there. Of course, we also keep dropping things and plunging into each other's arms at random moments, since we have to store up a lot of cuddling before he leaves on Monday.
And I've decided something -- since I have this lovely videocamera and video editing capabilities on my eMac, I'm going to start making weekly VCDs for him (because he can't play DVDs on his laptop) so that he'll have something to watch if he gets lonely. He really likes the idea, and it'll be fun for me -- I can set up the tripod so that I can talk to him while lying in bed (no, don't even go there -- I'm doing it this way because he likes looking at me in plan view). It's very comfortable to lie there and yammer away -- some of my best (and funniest) footage is of us in bed talking to each other.
*sigh* Steve had the right idea in his blog -- "The Bush Economy -- splitting families across America."
Still Life in Craft Store
I was in Hobby Lobby today in search of needed bits for a project, and as usual the lines at the cash register were humongous. As I stood in line wondering where I could find some thin white velour, I noticed a couple, in maybe their late forties, directly ahead of me. The woman was pushing a basket, her patient husband holding some lengths of wood, and in the basket was a little blond boy, maybe four or so, who was obviously bored with this whole craft store gig and wanted to blow the joint.
He started humming to himself tunelessly, the way kids do when they're bored, and reached out to play with the little items stacked near the checkout counter. I smiled at him; he looked up at me with a pair of big, beautiful blue eyes as if to say, "Yeah, you can smile -- you WANT to be here," and went back to toying with the impulse purchase crap. In the moment he looked at me, I noticed there was something unusual about his eyes. The lady reached down to tousle his hair and murmured that they'll be out of there soon. He squirmed and made quasi-verbal noises of acknowledgement.
I looked at him again, and noticed the flatness of his face, and the way his eyes were slanted. The kid had Down's. He started making impatient noises again, and the lady (mother, aunt, grandmother, I don't know) glanced back at me. She wasn't apologetic or defensive; rather, she was just waiting to see my reaction. I gave her a crooked grin and shrug, the universal body language for, "Kids -- what are you going to do?"
She blinked and smiled back, then finished paying for the craft items. The cashier started ringing me up as the three of them headed for the door, the boy reaching up to hold hands with the man and woman. I heard the man say, "Hey, wanna go to the park?" The boy hooted back in delight, and they disappeared into a warm spring afternoon.