First Fiesta Pics

The highlight of the 'Four Fiesta' was certainly the pinata. As the weather got pretty chilly, and the sky dark faster than we had anticipated, the stuffed star was hung in the garage. I would not ordinarily show anyone the interior of my garage, as it is a continual source of embarrassment, but necessity won out in the end.

Bear got to go first, and needed a bit of explaination to clearly understand that it was okay to hit the star with the baseball bat. Our friend T., who happens to be a former baseball star and now coaches his sons, manned the pinata and gave Bear some tips on whacking the thing.

You can see that there were a bunch of kids at this shindig; nothing makes me happier than to have a house full to the rafters with people having fun. And we were. Yukon's mexican menu wowed folks, his margaritas even more so (berry), as did his musical creation of '80's Special Songs'. This was made even more special due to the fact he knows little of hot songs listened to by high schoolers in the 80's.

More pictures will be coming soon; my friends took most of them while we socialized. God bless them, for there should be some good ones. A big thank you to everybody who attended, helped, and shared this special day with us.

Yukon and I took advantage of our leftovers last night to sit at our bistro table downstairs (brought inside for the party), sharing a huge pile of nachos made with his left over shredded beef, avocados, tomatoes, and black beans. I knew I liked him!

40 Day

Yeah, so, this is the day when I turn that number. Yes, that one. 40. I guess I don't feel as old as my mother does, when another of her children hits the magic
4-0.

One cannot turn 40 without having at least some moment of reflection on the last four decades, so at the risk of boring the pants off my readers, here they are.
(However, for those of you attending the bash tomorrow night, you might want to take notes; the following info could prove valuable, according to Yukon)

- If I had to do it all again, I would have fought harder against the red/black/gray plaid skirts the good nuns of St. Louise School made us wear. It is impossible to play football at recess in a stupid skirt. I much prefered my lime-green, bell-bottom courdoroy pants and Fonzie shirt.

- There is nothing like growing up in a small town where kids can walk barefoot down to the Ben Franklin store and buy everything from gerbils to Chick-O-Sticks, alone and unaccompanied by any adult type person. I am sure my parents were glad to get rid of us from dawn to dark every summer day. I know Dorothy's were.

- Prom is never what it is cracked up to be, especially when you attend only once, and your little sister attends all four years. I have recovered from the emotional scars, however. I think.

- Bless my parents for encouraging me to be who I am/was, even going so far as allowing me to wear my Lone Ranger outfit every day of our Montana vacations to the grandparent's ranch.

- Soccer is a good sport, until one gets to college and finds it to be like work. Who wants to work at anything in college, unless it has to do with drinking?

- Horses are a good way to forget about boys in High School. I believe this is why my parents did not protest louder against this particular activity.

I am the last of my group of friends to turn 40. Christine lives in Istanbul, Turkey, living the good life of an ex-pat. Lucky her. Dorothy lives in Minneapolis with her beautiful family. We grew up down the street from each other. Lucky all three of us. We have been friends since pre-school years. 40 more, ladies? Of course.

Update From the Wolf Den

It's a Conspiracy.

After a very enlightening conversation with the director of the Program at CHYC, getting to know the "rest of the story" to Wolf's antics lately, she and I agreed on the Conspiracy.

It has been easy for staff to allow Wolf some slack with regard to his behavior these last few months; after all, he can be quite charming and agreeable when things are to his liking. But as Wolf's residence stretches into the six-month mark and little progress up the ladder of Levels is accomplished, it was time for Plan B.

The Conspiracy to Help Wolf consists of little wiggle room for behavior that does not accept personal responsibility, the greatest of his challenges. Freely admitting to us last week that he "likes things my way", Wolf's success lies in his desire to accept and act upon the fact that society doesn't exactly see it that way. So far, there has not been much progress in that respect, but Director B sees potential. As she told me over the phone, "I can see his wheels turning".

Director B.'s special project is to guide and nurture through firm, consistent boundaries means Wolf will be mad much of the time, for quite some time as he struggles through the dark side (that will make him happy to have me use Star Wars analogies) and hopefully ends up at the "good".

Again, Yukon and I are bound by our sense of utter trust in these staff who obviously care deeply for our son and are also affected by behaviors they know he can overcome. Director B.'s Conspiracy could be the best thing to occur in his tumultous young life. But like many tough experiences, he just doesn't know it yet.

Let it Snow

This was what we woke up to this morning. Around 3 inches of fluffy white stuff, which looked quite lovely against the starry sky. We also have been waking up to dark that will only get darker.

Yes, those are Christmas lights. Alaskans install their holiday displays early, sometimes in an effort to brighten up dark winter days, but mostly because trying to get your holiday lights, etc. on the house in ice and snow is near impossible. The staple gun freezes up.

The lights are also up in preparation for a big Fiesta (Yukon's specialty) in celebration of a Year of 4's. I am 40 (no, no, no!) and Bear is 4. And, as my neighbor also added, 4 and 4 is 8 (meaning 2008). Ohhhh, the Chinese would have a lot of fun with this one. I am sure there will be much documentation of this shindig, which goes down Saturday night.

At any rate, the day turned out to be a beautiful one with blue skies and temperatures hovering around 30. We took the dog to the park and all boys enjoyed running around in the snow before trooping home for some hot choco.

So, It's Winter

Hmm, it has been snowing on and off all day long. Wet, heavy, not-fun-to-walk-in snow that clings to our hair and feet and makes walking on the decks kind of dangerous. Just ask the dog.

Our final indicator that winter is indeed here came on the way to church this morning, as we noticed traffic at a standstill on one of our busy cross-town streets. This only happens for one reason in Alaska; indeed, there were two moose, a cow and an older calf, trying to figure out on which side of the street they wished to be. I have said it before; moose are just as scary standing still as they are moving, as one never knows when they will decide to do just that. Back and forth across the median they went, finally entering a neighborhood where I am sure they figured they wouldn't have to make any decisions more complicated than choosing a tree to nibble upon.

We saw another on our way home, but on the highway in the middle of a snow squall. the dumb young bull wanted to go across the four-lane road NOW, and just couldn't grasp waiting a second more. I hate when they do that; I do not want to witness any moose-car collisions so soon into the season.

Church had a group lunch today after services, and the aroma of harvest bean, chicken noodle, and even coconut thai soups wafted around. A wonderful way to spend a Sunday afternoon. Time to break out the crock pot around here.

Columbus Weekend Storm 2008

Holy cow, I thought we left the South to get away from hurricane winds. The weather service had warned of high winds last night, but I don't think anybody expected this. Up to 90 mph.

After a restless night of feeling the whole house shake and waiting for the roof to blow off, Yukon and I finally got up around 5:30 a.m. to put Bear, who was scared by this time (weren't we all), back to bed. We looked out our bedroom window towards our neighbor's back yard and watched their trampoline come barreling right towards us. With a terrific crash that knocked a framed photo off of the bedroom wall, it wedged itself against the house and back deck stairs, narrowly missing our window and the natural gas pipes. Shortly after this, the barbeque tipped over.

We dressed quickly and made our way down the landing to bring in the front deck table and chairs, as well as an antique bench. We were a little late for the bench, as it blew across the decking and took out three rails. I had to hold the door open for Yukon as he threw everything in the stairwell in between gusts.

We didn't mess around after that; we snatched Bear from his bed and went downstairs to wait the rest of the storm out. It all died down around 9:00 a.m., but re-emerged soon after and has made for a difficult chore of cleaning up. Fortunately Yukon had decided ahead of time to take the day off. The sun seems to be trying to come out a bit; a crazy, crazy day.

Update From the Wolf Den

Sitting in church last Sunday, the bracelet I wore was a bit noisy as it rattled and clinked against the pews and hymn books. The charm on the bracelet is a heart with some tiny white beads inside, and was given to me to honor women who have battled breast cancer. Inside the heart were words I had not bothered to read before. Three words, making a statement so simple and eloquent for me in this stage of Wolf's absence.

The day before, Yukon, Bear and I had gone to REI's Fall Sale to stock up on a few things. Ambling through the bike section, I came fact-to-face with the physician (learning disabilities specialist, M.D.) that intruduced Yukon and I to the concept of Asperger Syndrome. She was also the one who told us, before we switched providers, that residential treatment options "rarely work".

Surprised to see her, I asked how she was, and she responded in kind, inquiring as to our family's health and welfare. I mentioned Wolf's enrollment in CHYC, and was met with an unnerving, "Ohhhhhh, is he?"

Granted, I should have known this would be the reaction, and should have known that eventually, somebody somewhere was going to not agree with our decision to place Wolf at a residential facility. I just wasn't expecting it to come in the middle of cycling apparel at REI. I began to doubt, and it bothered me the rest of the day, all night, and into the next morning as I perched on my pew at church.

"Trust Your Journey", said the words. Just like that.

Trust that Wolf's physical needs as a growing young man are being met. That his shoes fit, his teeth are brushed, and his never-full stomach is satisfied.

Trust that his emotional needs are met as an immature child lives far away from home and is asked to cope with a living situation most of us did not confront until we left for college much, much later in our teen years.

Trust that we as a family will use this time as an opportunity, not a vacation, from the difficult days leading up to Wolf's admission to CHYC, for the four of us to collaborate and grow in our knowledge and support of all children who live day after day with Asperger Syndrome.

Trust that I know what I did, and I know what I am doing as best for my family.

Trust in Wolf himself to believe, achieve, and perservere through his own personal journey while at the same time preparing himself to return home to a new setting with new boundaries.

When I was first learning the art of directional way-finding, my dad always taught me to trust my compass, especially when climbing tricky Mt. Hood. Many people, he said, tried to find their own way down, following what they thought was the natural curve down to the lodge. They ended up way west, in a deep canyon of snow and wind. The compass, my wise father said, will not lie. Trust it.