Life in progress


One-Liner Wednesday – A Birthday Boy

Alex, my miracle baby, turned eighteen yesterday! Happy birthday, Alex!

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As with Stream of Consciousness Saturday (SoCS), if you see a pingback from someone else in my comment section, click and have a read. It’s bound to be short and sweet.

Unlike SoCS, this is not a prompt so there’s no need to stick to the same “theme.”

The rules that I’ve made for myself (but don’t always follow) for “One-Liner Wednesday” are:

1. Make it one sentence.

2. Try to make it either funny or inspirational.

3. Use our unique tag #1linerWeds.

4. Add our lovely badge to your post for extra exposure!

5. Have fun!


#SoCS – Tea, no matter what

When, as a child, I questioned the wisdom of drinking hot tea on a hot day, my parents told me that it made you sweat, which is better. Back then we didn’t have an air conditioner in the house. They weren’t really a “thing” in my neighbourhood, at least outside of public buildings. We never had a window unit and didn’t get central air until the late 70s, early 80s.

My parents came from the UK–let’s get that out of the way. They HAD to have their tea. So even when it was 90 degrees outside, we’d be sitting with our cuppa, vying for a spot where there was a bit of a wind to cool off our sweaty skin. All stiff-upper-lip/do-it-because-it-feels-good-when-you-stop behaviour.

But that’s turned out to be a good thing. I can’t stand iced (or cold) coffee, but I’ve been conditioned to bear the heat of summer AND a scorching hot drink. I’ve learned to appreciate that extra layer of perspiration that cools me off when I come in contact with even the slightest of breezes.

Or I drink it in an air conditioned room.

Because who needs a stiff upper lip when you have A/C?

BUT, having said that, I still take my cup of tea upstairs to bed with me every night. I have a fan on my bedside table that blasts me with cool air.

Ingenuity is the boon of all that ails.


This post is brought to you by Stream of Consciousness Saturday. Click the following link to find all the other posts in the comments, and the rules to join in too. It’s fun!


#SoCS – Style

I’m not sure if I’ve ever had a style that one could cramp. As a teenager, I went by the general style of “get away with anything I can,” yet nothing in particular sticks out much. I didn’t smoke or do drugs, and by the time I started drinking, my mother had stopped. So the water in the booze to keep the level up went unnoticed. I think it might have ended up being so watered down that even I didn’t bother with it.

My style now amounts to being alone as much as possible so I can work. Oooh, I’m such a party animal in my old age. 😛 In fact nothing cramps my style any more as much as actual cramps do. And believe me, my walk has style for the first few minutes in the morning.

Now, just don’t get between me and my coffee. Or I’ll cramp your style.

*waves and limps off into the sunset*

This crampy post is brought to you by Stream of Consciousness Saturday. Click to see all the other posts linked in the comments, and to join in too!


#SoCS – 60 per minute

When I had my first child, I was told it was best to rock him about 60 beats per minute – the same as the average heart rate.  I paid attention to that, and now it’s funny how I use that habit. Having a child (my third) with a heart condition makes it necessary to check his pulse occasionally. I can usually tell without looking at a clock if it’s fast or slow. Makes you wonder how they came up with how many seconds there should be in a minute, doesn’t it? And how it works out that our hearts beat, on average, the same number of times the clock ticks by the seconds in an hour, a day, a month, and a year. It’s like we power the universe!!!

Mind blown yet? Mine is.

My first child flew the coop today for the first time. Literally. He’s gone to Florida to see his girlfriend. It was his third time on a plane (we went to England together in 2007) and his first time on one alone. He must get that from me. So I’m looking after his cats for the next week. He didn’t ask about them when he texted me to say he’d made it. Girlfriend. Right.

My second son has the travel bug too. He wants to go everywhere, but he can’t go alone. That darned Autism thing. And my third son – I’m sure he’d love to go places too. But with his health conditions, insurance would be astronomical. Which leaves him with going only one way… up.

To the moon, Alex! Haha. I actually make myself laugh sometimes.

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#ThursdayDoors – Doors that tell a story

It was 2009 and I’d already decided to buy my house. During the inspection, the real estate agent and I were poking around in all the nooks and crannies when we discovered that the inside of one of the closet doors had been used, for decades, as a place to record the growth of the children who grew up here. Click on the pictures for a closer look.

It’s fun to find history displayed in public places. It’s even better when you come across it in your own home.

Thursday Doors is brought to you by Norm Frampton at Norm 2.0. You can find the origin of this amazing prompt here:


Jab – #AtoZ Challenge

My “J”-word is a bit of a stretch, but it’s the only way I could find to talk about an important subject without taking up another letter. So here we have “jab,” by which I really mean “point” and “poke.” Both actions are important in American Sign Language, more the former than the latter, however. Confused yet? I’ll explain.

Growing up we’re all told it’s rude to point. Pointing though, is an essential part of ASL vocabulary. You, me, he, she, and it, are all indicated by pointing. It took me a while to get over the ingrained sense of right and wrong; of needing to point but not wanting to. Now I do it all the time – and I get a lot of strange looks, particularly when Alex and I are out, pointing all over the place.

Poking, on the other hand, is a less-desirable way for a Deaf person to get someone’s attention. Alex loves to poke me with a sharply pointed finger, especially when he wants something he can’t have. Normally, a tap on the shoulder is used. Coming into physical contact with other people, even strangers, is natural in the signing world. It’s necessary. The other day in a coffee shop, I was watching a lady who I know is Deaf, trying to get through the line-up for the counter; she was on her way out. Her shoulder-taps were met with a mixture of surprise and, in one case, almost hostility. All she could do was smile and try to look friendly. The people in line had no way to know she was Deaf, and probably wondered why she didn’t just say, “excuse me,” like any civilized person would.

Alex is still small enough that he can get away with a lot of things in public. He smiles at people and they smile back. He touches them and it’s innocent; he’s still only a little above four feet tall. I’m not sure he’ll grow much more in height, but he’s bound one day to grow facial hair. When that happens, he’ll go from cute to uncivilized in the eyes of society. It’s difficult, even for a mom, to explain away.

My A to Z theme concerns the joys and challenges of being the hearing mother of my Deaf son, Alex. To learn more about his beginnings in life, click here to go to my first A to Z entry.


#SoCS – Be

What do you want to be when you grow up? I used to hate that question. I never had a real answer because I had no idea. It, to me, was an impractical question. I’m ten! How would I know? Hold on, while I weigh my options… I used to be envious of the kids who could just spurt out a profession like it was what they were born for. How about, I want to be a caring, compassionate human being. It’s something else to know how you want to occupy yourself when you reach a certain age, isn’t it?

Right now I’m occupying myself with my laptop, awkwardly typing with the puppy’s head on my lap, and my kid is making weird gurgling noises at his own computer while he feeds from his pump. The tv is on but there’s no sound – nobody is watching it. Not even the dog. Is it true that dogs can’t see tvs? Is that a myth? Or was it just true of the old curved screens? Because Winston seems to be able to see my flat screen.

I had to get up to feed the dog. He made me put the computer down. I’m almost out of milk. I panic when that happens, because it means I’ll either have to drink my morning coffee black or not at all. And that last option is not an option. As my best friend observed, I don’t exist before coffee. I am not.

To be, or not to be? Ask me after coffee. I think my brain just exploded.

SoCS badge 2015

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