Atomictumor

Lordy, no! We’re not pregnant again. My Mom is coming home.

Four or five years ago, my Mom (Grandma Waffle) moved to Florida to pursue a relationship with an inmate, Larry, whom she had met through a pen-pal program. He was (is) serving a life sentence for first degree murder; there was a lot of hope in the beginning that he would be released either on parole, or through a new trial that presented evidence of his innocence. Waffle bought a house in Deland, FL, close to where Larry was incarcerated. After a couple years, and a lot of fighting with the prison system, Waffle and Larry got married.

I have struggled with this. I have no opinion on Larry’s guilt or innocence, but I have never been able to really trust him. I have brought my concerns to Waffle, and she gently reminds me that she is an adult, fully knows the risks involved, that she very much loves Larry and very much feels loved by Larry. This has been a lesson in letting go for me; because in the end all I can do is love her and trust her and….let go.

Anyway, back to the story. At some point, Larry was moved to a different prison over 5 hours away from Waffle, and then again to a prison near Miami. Waffle sold her house and moved to an apartment in Miami; but after only a short time there, Larry had his visitation rights taken away for 2 years. A few months later, he was moved to yet another prison, again, 5 hours from where Waffle lived. Waffle remained in Miami until her lease was up, and then moved to Jacksonville, where she is today.

I’m not going to go into details, but the situation has deteriorated. There are allegations of prison abuse, corruption, conspiracy. Waffle fears that Larry has been abused to his breaking point, and she feels that she has done all she can possibly do to fight the system. She is heartbroken and on the verge of bankruptcy.

So Waffle, with her two dogs, are coming to stay with us.

I am happy and relieved that she is coming home, although I certainly wish it were under better circumstances. We’ve all missed her, and I think that it will help all of us to be around family.

As happy as I am to have her stay with us, there are some practical considerations that have been on my mind. Such as, how do we fit another person and two dogs into our little house that’s already bursting at the seams? It can be done, of course, but last night my mind started wandering and it struck me that maybe we should start seriously looking for a new house. And then it struck me that perhaps that initial thought is a coping mechanism - trying to deal with this period of impending change.  Hmmmm…regardless, I think I’ll be contacting our friendly neighborhood real estate agent for some advice.

***

The fact that my Mom is going through this very difficult time at this time of year is not lost on me. It makes me think about the changes that came last year, all the pain and suffering and grief. And the Beauty that underlies it all. It gives me hope. I hope that Waffle can see that, too.

As I washed dishes last night, Spotz asks:

“Mom, do ticks have nuts?”

I turned to look at him.  “Um…what?”

“Do ticks have nuts?”

“Uh…what exactly do you mean, Spotz?”

“Mo-om, ticks!  Do ticks have nuts??”

At this point, he reached into a bag of candy and produced a Twix candy bar.

“You know, Mom, ticks!”

“Ohhhhhhhhhh.  Twix.  No, Twix don’t have nuts.”

***

That reminds me, though.  We’ve not had much luck trick-or-treating in the past few years.  It seems that every year, fewer and fewer houses are giving out the goods.  Are there any secret Oak Ridge neighborhoods out there that are excellent for trick-or-treating?

What a lovely October surprise - Radiohead is releasing their new album, In Rainbows, (via download only) in 10 days - for whatever price you feel is fair.  They will also have a discbox of the same album available in December for about $80; the discbox includes the digital download + the album on CD, an extra CD with more new songs, photos and artwork and 2 vinyl records all in a neat little package.

Ooooooh I can’t wait.  Fall is the perfect time for Radiohead.

I was in the shower when the first plane hit; October, 3, and Spotz, 10 months, were watching a videotape of Blue’s Clues. My early thoughts that morning were of what I needed to get at the grocery store. And then Bos called from work, and said, “Turn on the TV. Two planes have hit the World Trade Center in New York.”

The world never felt so small. I felt like I could look out my window and see smoke and ash, like I could stick my arm out and feel places thousands of miles away. And I was scared. I watched those clear blue skies and wondered if one of those missing planes was headed for ORNL. Every old junker that backfired going up the road made me jump, made my heart pound. That was the first time I have truly ever worried about my safety.

How removed we are from those who worry about their survival on a daily basis.

I saturated myself with TV and online news coverage.  I couldn’t look away.  As the hours went by, and the footage of grief-stricken people searching the ashy streets of NY for their loved ones, and the stories of people clasping hands and jumping dozens of stories to their deaths, and of all of the folks who died trying to save the lives of strangers.  I grieved then, and I grieve today as I recall all those words and images that struck me 6 years ago.

I imagine there are people out there who poo-poo the media frenzy brought by the 9/11 anniversary.  And sure, some (okay, a lot) of it is overkill.  But I also think it is so important to remember and reflect.  I need to remember, because that’s what feels right to me.

***

A few years ago, October brought home a book from the library, Fireboat: The Heroic Adventures of the John J. Harvey. It’s a wonderful story about a restored fireboat that came out of retirement to help in the days following 9/11.  It tells the story of September 11th from a perspective that is good for kids and parents alike.  Check it out if you get a chance; I know that it will be part of our 9/11 remembrance for years to come.

It’s been feeling a little too cozy at the Cemestos Gardens lately. <1200 square feet + 6 people with varying degrees of mood swings = high probability of irking someone just by existing.  It’s fun to whine about, but even more fun to figure out solutions:

• Get smaller furniture.  In theory, if we have mini-furniture, we’ll have more room to move around, right?  And it’s fun to buy furniture.
• Daydream about adding on, despite the fact that we don’t like the road we live on, we’d have to chop down several trees, any addition would make the house look lopsided, and home renovation is a pain in the arse.
• Convert the crawl space into a bedroom for Wingnut.  He’s too young to be afraid of spiders, and he’s a great crawler.
• Okay, back to that daydream about adding on - did I mention that the plans I drew up included a super-secret parents’ room with a plasma TV and wet bar?
• Search the classifieds for homes we can’t (yet) afford, like this one (which, admittedly, I like primarily because it actually has 1.3 acres - that doesn’t happen very often in the Oak Ridge).  Wait, can this be considered a solution?  I don’t think so, because it just makes me woeful.  I’ll have to cross it off.
• Try to make myself feel better with the whole “the longer we live here, the more equity we’ll build” line.
• It’s handy to remind October that she’s the only one in the family to have her own bedroom.

Hmmm…that’s about it on solutions.  Back to browsing the classifieds.  I also like this one.  Dig the stone.