A Whale of a Room

I've tried a lot of ideas to inspire my daughter to take care of her room throughout the years.

One time I labeled dresser drawers for specific pieces of clothing, labeled toy bins, labeled the garbage (with a list of things that should go into it)... you get the idea.  I hung a list on the wall that broke down what to pick up first and what to put away and in what order.  It worked for a while until one day I went in and saw that she had rearranged and added to all of the labels.  It resulted in nulling and voiding the system I had created.  

I think it was her way of reclaiming her room (and pulling it back into the abyss of chaos). 

Several times I stripped her room of toys.  This at first made her sad, but then ultimately made her feel rescued, so I had to rethink the benefits of that idea.  

Her room has been my white whale throughout the years, a whale that has kicked my butt so hard that have I lapsed into periods of avoidance.  But I always find my way back to crusader mode. 

This weekend, the saga of managing Kloe's bedroom had a new chapter installment. 

In an effort to make her embrace her bedroom and really make it hers, I decided an overhaul was needed.  She no longer wanted the loft bed she's been using (and before that a bunk bed), so I found a new regular twin bed.  Well, not really new, but a used and in great condition bed off of craigslist

(If I ever just up and disappear, you can fairly safely assume that I finally wandered to the wrong craigslist ad and am now chopped into bits floating somewhere down the river). 

I also found a taller/less space-consuming dresser for her (again off of craigslist), as well as a bookshelf and nightstand.  Between the extra storage that the bed has under it, and all of the extra storage all of the other new items, it should be easier to make a place for her things. 

Saturday, Kloe and I went to the paint store where she picked a new wall color completely by herself.  The last time I painted in there, I chose a yellow color (cheerful, right?) She never approved. 

She wanted her walls to be "carmel", and chose a warmish tan color.  We (and I mean Kloe and I) put the first coat of paint down last night (Sunday).  Fifteen minutes into the process, she stopped and said "Doing this is not as fun as it looks" (and I smile as I type that).  I replied "Yes, I know that because this is the fourth time I have painted this little room of yours, and the first two times I did the whole thing by myself".  My hope (which I expressed to her), is that by understanding how much work it is to paint a bedroom, she will have a better understanding about why it is so important to me that she try to resist the urge to use thumb tacks to display her ever changing works of art (I will be hanging a new cork board though, because her art really does need to be displayed). 

She has also chose a new comforter set for her new bed, which I will be ordering soon.  I have really had to resist the urge to take over this choice, because Kloe and I like very different styles and colors (I want lots of bright colors, and she keeps leaning towards more subdued colors).

 I don't consider myself a controlling person, but the amount of effort it has taken to put the brakes on just taking over and doing it my way has been considerable.  I've had to focus on the big picture goal, which is not having a bedroom decorated just as I would like, but instead to have a room that Kloe feels connected to.  I am hoping that this will create more of a sense of responsibility in taking care of it.  

Now, we wait and watch and hope for success.  :)

Busy Busy Busy

I keep meaning to post something in here, but it seems to keep getting pushed off of the list.  There are many things I have on this "list", such as returning emails (in an embarrassingly late fashion)and developing pictures of the kids I took over a month ago and sending them out (also embarrassingly late).  I know there are more things on this "list", but I my brain isn't going to reveal them again to me until the usual 3 a.m. time slot.  I do know I have a constant dull nagging trying to get me to clean this house, as in the REAL clean instead of this surface clean I have perfected.  Let's just call it "summer clean" in here right now.  I have way more important and fun things to do that toil around in here, creating instantly destroyed perfection and missing out on the three months of sun granted to me in the mean time.

We've been really busy so far this summer, and it looks like it is going to stay that way.  We've spent a lot of time in the water, in classic summer fashion.  We went up to Lake Mary Ronan and spent the day with Dad and Renae a couple of weeks ago.  We rented paddle boards (sooo fun!), and took our canoe and Dad's little fishing boat out on the lake for some late afternoon fishing.  We were hoping for Kokanee Salmon but they weren't biting that day.  We did catch a bucket of perch, so it was still a fun time.  So far that has been one of my favorite days.  We went horseback riding the next day, which was also very fun.  We were so wiped out by the end of it that we all took three hours naps; most satisfying.

The kids seem to be having a good summer (?).  I compare all the stuff we do as a family to my childhood and I wish I could zap my memories into their heads so they could see just how unboring it really is around here... *sigh*  Not that there was anything wrong with how I spent my summers as a kid, but we rarely ever left Paradise to go camping or travel or anything else.  My days were spent riding my bike all over town, fishing in the pond behind the town, and exploring the river and mountains- mostly by myself.

I know that sounds pretty great to Derrin.  He is 12 going on 13, and this summer I can tell he is starting to get bummed that he isn't allowed to go very many places by himself.  I feel like we try to counter that by doing lots of fun stuff with both of the kids.  He gets to go more places and do more things than I ever did, it's just that he has his parents with him most of the time.  What a big bummer.  This growing up thing is going to be hard on us both.  Just the thought of him riding his bike to the store by himself makes me have heart palpitations.  Visions of the bad drivers sharing the road dance across my head, convincing me that letting him go anywhere by himself will mean sure and imminent death.

The truth is, I do trust him.  He is a smart kid, and totally capable of taking care of himself.  I just don't trust the rest of the world. I am going to have to eventually let him start venturing out by himself alone... but let's not let it be this summer.

They've both had friends over, and also spent the night at their friends houses.  I think that helps more than anything.  Both of the kids are just so social, they start wilting after too many days of not seeing their friends- especially Derrin.  Oh-well.  We will do what we can do. I know I am having a great summer so far, and all of the pictures I've been taking will prove to my grown up children that I was a rockin' parent.  Haha:)

And without further rambling, here are a few snapshots of our summer so far:

I wish it was always and forever like this out there.  July is already burning up the hills.

Beauty.  

My three babies

Our rhododendron bush while it was still blooming and beautiful.

Derrins OBSESSION... photo taken by and for... Derrin (a random citizen's car)

Riding the carousel with our friends :)

Feeding the ducks during a service break.

Daddy-o, enjoying the shade

Rainy giving it a try

Derrin and Derrick paddle boarding

Some of my flower gardens this summer

Kloe's new disclaimer and greeting for her bedroom... enter at your own risk!!

Our horseback riding day.

Silly horses

Sabrina took me to a Bare Naked Ladies Concert!!!

We were up front and center- he even looked  at little ol' me (well my camera anyways) while I snapped a shot

Shannon, Kloe and I hiked clear to the top and over the M- pretty intense hike.  Kloe said it's the last time, but maybe  next year we will give it another try?

Indian Paintbrush... taken on a family drive into the woods last weekend.

Food Connection

I'm sitting here watching yet another episode of the show "Hoarders" on netflix. I have heard of this show, but WOW is it riveting. I'm watching it with only part of my mind, because the other very large part of my mind is rearranging the art supply/lizard stuff that has taken up residence in my kitchen. This show is inspiring me.

Before "Hoarders", Derrin and I watched the show "Heavy", which is about compulsive eaters and lifestyle changes. That show, while making me tear up repeatedly while watching their struggles, actually made me feel better. Why? Because I am in the midst of a very restrictive diet myself, and I too am surrounded by delicious things to eat.

I must hold on to the hope that there will be HUGE dividends health wise for all of this perseverance. So far, the hardest moment to stay the course was last weekend while camping. Camping while on food restrictions is a purely masochistic thing to do. I knew that when I was agreeing to go, but I went anyway.

On this particular camping journey, my dear husband remembered to bring our ice cream maker. This was our forth camping trip this summer, and every time he meant to bring the machine and he remembered this time. It was a nice treat for our fellow campers and the kids. I had a great idea of adding marshmallows, chocolate and graham crackers to the ice cream mix, but it was mostly a plot to get the temptations out of my camper and unable to travel home with me. It was a little depressing for me, but it created nice memories for the kiddos, I'm sure.

I have more empathy for my mom's struggle with her special anti-cancer diet now. I've always known how huge food is in socialization. However, knowing it mentally compared to actually being faced with being the restricted one are very different things.

*I was the one who shopped for all of the awesome camping food that I would not be eating. *I helped prepare some of the awesome things that I would not be eating (although Derrick did the lion's share of that, bless that man), and *I mostly ignored the deliciousness all around me as I ate my lean protein and vegetables.

But, when I sat there surrounded by people eating the decedent Camping Ice Cream that I'd help make, I had little envy darts shooting out all over. I carefully made myself stare into the campfire, sip my iced tea, and try to ignore the gasps of mutual agreement that this may indeed have been the best ice cream any man has been know to consume.

I understand a bit of the reluctance my mom had in committing the rest of her life to the absence of such pleasures. Like her, I have given up many things that I enjoyed in the name of health, whether that be for physical, emotional or spiritual health. However, food (and I'm talking about anything that isn't lean meat or leafy green veges) is one of those things that I have always counted on for pleasure and comfort.

Giving up comfort food has brought up some weird feelings for me. On some level, a part of me is screaming, "COME ON! Food is the one thing we have left! What is the point of being alive is we can't even have this one last thing?!?" I could rebut that thinking with things like music, reading, love, connection, art, and a lot of other things that do point to reasons for 'being alive', but the 'quietly screaming level girl' is not a great listener or a great reasoner. She's just too hungry for that.

I like this new connection I now have with my mom; this new understanding. I have had feelings of anger and frustration with my mom ever since she died. I've been mad that she didn't stay on her diet better. My sadness has been mixed in with so many 'if onlys', If only she would have stayed on her diet she would still be here. But, she stayed on her diet for years, that's why she lived so many years beyond a stage four cancer diagnoses. I am only a week into these food restrictions, and I'm sure I have the smallest inkling of what she went through. No wonder she needed to know that her diet wasn't going to be the forever kind. It doesn't even matter about the diet anyways. For all of my frustration and sadness aimed at that diet, the truth is my mom didn't choose to get colon cancer. The truth is she fought tooth and nail, and now I have more understanding of the emotional and spiritual muscle it took to fight that fight. And I appreciate that she did that mostly for us, for the people who love(d) her. It's huge that she did that.

Mom has been on my mind a lot lately. It's been almost exactly a year ago that the real downturn happened. I can't believe that it has been a year. It's like realizing somehow you've lived through the first year of becoming blind, or deaf, or losing a limb. We are still alive and going forward, but life will never be right until she is with us again.

She has been showing up in my dreams more and more.

Some of today was spent searching for her in our old family videos. I found her in more than I anticipated, which made me happy. They are all on old analog 8mm video tapes- I thought that I might be able to make digital recordings of the videos being played on tv, but the quality is pretty poor. Either I need to find a way to directly transfer the videos to my computer, or I need to send them out somewhere to have it done. I'd like to not have to drag out all of the old tapes and recorder every time we want to watch the videos. I was surprised at how many videos we have of the kids growing up too. THAT was nice to realize.

I have two new pages above now. There is one with Mom's Slideshow (finally figured out how to get that online), and another one with old videos of the kids and whatever I could find of Mom. Like I said, the quality isn't great yet, and I have a lot more to put up there (just a few up there so far), but it's been a fun little project and it makes me happy that the videos are so accessible to myself and anyone else who would like to watch them.

Tunnel of Love...

Love the lyrics to this, just so true for all of us... some days more than others.

Fat man sitting on a little stool

Takes the money from my hand while his eyes take a walk all over you
Hands me the ticket smiles and whispers good luck
Cuddle up angel cuddle up my little dove
Well ride down baby into this tunnel of love

I can feel the soft silk of your blouse
And them soft thrills in our little fun house
Then the lights go out and it's just the three of us
You me and all that stuff were so scared of
Gotta ride down baby into this tunnel of love

There's a crazy mirror showing us both in 5-d
Im laughing at you you're laughing at me
There's a room of shadows that gets so dark brother
Its easy for two people to lose each other in this tunnel of love

It ought to be easy ought to be simple enough
Man meets woman and they fall in love
But the house is haunted and the ride gets rough
And youve got to learn to live with what you can't rise above if you want to ride on down in through this tunnel of love

Lame Blogger

Haven't blogged in way too long. I have no good reason for last week, except I was busy with work and enjoying the first real summer days we've had. This week I don't have internet access, and I've resisted doing the ol' blog from the blackberry up to now.

I literally was able to hang out with some of my very favorite people, either by going to a concert, going on a long walk, going on a guided food tour of a small town, throwing a summer kid party, and by playing a ginormous baseball game. One favorite friend couldn't be with me, or I with her, but we had a nearly three hour phone conversation.

Every week should be like last week.

This week I have been in T.Falls at Steph's. The kids are on their second (and last) week of swimming lessons. We were able to hang out at Renae's yesterday (she's back!), and today I hung out with Heidi and caught up while we watched the kids swim.

Tomorrow we will be in Paradise cemetery, pouring cement and setting Mom's head stone. It's been hard to find a day on the calendar that would work for us to meet up; it'll be good to finally have it up there.

On a different note, I have made an unfortunate hair dye decision. I would have thought that I would be over my "great ideas" when it comes to hair color. Now I know I will someday be that 85 year old woman with crazy orange hair. I guess if I didn't learn from the accidental green hair incident at age 15 (and my resulting nickname "Spruce") I will never learn.

Oh well. It's just blond, bright red and pink highlights... Not the subtle coolness I was going for, but it shouldn't be too hard to fix once I get home.

Auntie Lores n Kids

Kids at lessons

Kicking off Summer Party



Whip Cream Fight



@ Brandi and Ray Concert

Ma' girl and I at concert

He made Level 3!

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

"Paradise" Past

Paradise Past

"Many people think they are thinking when they are merely rearranging their prejudices."~William James


"It isn't what they say about you, it's what they whisper."~Errol Flynn


“Some people brighten a room by entering it; others, by leaving it.” Lynn Rios

Part of why I feel so verbally congested is that there is so much I'd love to scream out to the world, to just blast it out there, and yet to put it out there is to open myself up to another world of hurt. I am beyond frustrated with a world that is willing to judge me based on preconceptions rather than looking deeper into a history that should scream to truth to everyone.

I've heard comments made about how sad it is that people are so quick to criticize others with addiction problems. I have a very big problem when people say things like that. The people I know who may "criticize" someone with an addiction, are very rarely "quick" to do so. Most the time if you have had someone with an addiction in your life, you have fought for that person for YEARS. You have been through their ups, praying that they can hold it together this time, only to come crashing down with them. You have begged for them to make different choices, you have tried to love them through it, to believe in them and hold their hand. You have lent them money, you have let them live with you, talked your own employer to give them a chance only to later feel completely used and embarrassed. You have watched them lie to your parents over and over, saying anything to get more money out of them even when your parents are on a fixed income and barely able to make it anyways. You have watched your mother worry for years, the stress making her sick. And then you get to watch the person with the addiction sit back and blame everyone else for how crappy his life is. It is now YOUR fault, because you had the audacity to finally say enough is enough.

ENOUGH IS ENOUGH.

A lifetime of these people with addictions and zero personal responsibility causing myself and all the people I love pain, destroying themselves and anyone near them, and yes, I am done. I don't care if people think I am self-righteous and judgemental. If anyone is more interested in listening to the addicted person's 'wha wha' story instead of looking at the trail of destruction BLAZING behind that person, then I don't need that person in my life either.

Just know this: The people who came before you in the addict's life DID care. They did all they could to save the person you think you will be able to save with your love. But the problem was never that there wasn't enough love in the addicted ones life, it was that he loved his addiction more than he loved the people who loved him.

The truth is, I have had to make choices in my own life about addictions too. I could have chose to self-medicate my life away. I could have decided to live a life completely against everything my parents ever told me was important and true. I could have done things that made my mom cry and then drank until I didn't feel guilty about it anymore. And it did take me awhile to point my finger at myself and make the changes I needed to make to not let that poison infect my life like I'd seen it infect others.


Life is nothing but a string of choices.

Well, then addiction is a disease, right? No one chooses to get a disease. No one chooses to get diabetes either. But what about the choice to sit there and eat sugar until you die? You have to choose to live. You choose to not eat the sugar. And at least the sugar doesn't make you use and hurt everyone in your life so much that eventually there is nothing left.

This world believes in something called "tough love". I've been part of a family with issues of alcoholism for so long, words like "co-dependency" and "enabling" are completely understood. The only thing that ever protected my family from the the pull of enabling our addicted members was being part of an organization that practiced tough love when it got to the point where the addiction was so out there (DUI's in the newspaper, outlandish behavior) that it had to be addressed. Even then, help was extended first. Help has always been extended, from friends, family, all hands reached out with help. But what do you do when the addiction means more than all the love and help in the world? You protect yourself. Finally, you protect yourself.

When the addicted goes off and starts another life with a new host to feed the addiction, but keeps the addiction, do you quit protecting yourself? No. A lifetime of experience says NO. As long as the addiction is active, it's like poison just waiting to infect you and your life.

I am angry. I am hurt that people who should have the brains to ask me really important questions, haven't. People should be able to look at my sister and I, and see how much we love our parents, and that we have always and will always do anything we can to help them. We respect them. We cared for Mom all through her darkest years, and we fought for her with every single ounce of love we carry for her in our hearts. She was our best friend, a huge and essential part of our lives. Everything that ever hurt her, hurt us too.

Sometimes I think it may have hurt us more- it's a hard thing to watch someone you love get hurt repeatedly by the same person or people. It builds up in a person. To see a person you love hurt, and disrespected is almost unbearable, but when you have addicts hanging around, you get to experience it over and over. I am unwilling and unable to act as if there is no damage and that what has happened never really happened.

I am done.

Party-Pooper

Soooo.  I am sitting here, all by my lonesome.  Everyone else is at a wedding reception, friends and family alike.  I'm feeling a little bad about not going.  I didn't feel like it... I know *LAME*

I am so introverted sometimes.  It goes beyond introversion actually.  Sometimes the thought of being around large groups of people is SO overwhelming to me.  I very seldom actually look forward to going to a party. Even when I will know a lot of people at a party (like tonight), I still don't ever really just *want* to go. 

The funny thing is that I did get ready to go to it.  I put on a cute dress, I curled my hair and did my make up with more than the usual care...  I was completely ready to go.  Then as we got closer to the kingdom hall, I just *did not* want to go in.  There were so many cars- I knew it was going to be packed in there.  So, instead Derrick and I messed around in town for a little while, and then went home.  We were planning on going to the reception, but then I didn't go to that either.  Derrick went- I just stayed home by myself.  A lot of times I will go if it's the only way that the kids will get to go, but they were able to have fun without my presence today.

*Sigh*

On the bright side, I did get most of my laundry done.  My house is super clean.  I got to eat ice cream, watermelon and pop corn for dinner, since I was the only one here.  I watched a new documentary about the wealthy in America. 

Oh well.  Someday I might develop the coolness it takes to go to parties.

You Live You Learn

Kloe got up this morning saying that her tummy hurt.  I made her get dressed for school anyway.  Her head hurt.  I took her temperature (98.5) and then made her eat breakfast.  Then she was just sooo tired.  I made her get her shoes and coat on, told her I loved her and then sent her on her way.  I called the school to let them know she was out of sorts and to give me a call if her day didn't improve.  About ten I got a call that she had fallen asleep in class and now had a temperature of 102.  MEAN MOMMY ALERT!!!  But, in my defense, how can I know when she just doesn't want to go to school (which does happen occasionally), or if she is really sick, especially if there is no fever? 

I have a memory of my mom making me get ready for school after I'd told her I was sick.  I was seven (just like Kloe), and we had eaten fish sandwiches at a local restaurant the night before (pretty sure it was the sandwich the night before).  My tummy hurt too, but I didn't have a fever.  I cried through breakfast (like my girl did this morning) trying to convince her I felt icky.  Finally, I ran to the bathroom and was super sick.  I remember laying on the bathroom rug afterward, still sick, but also triumphant.  I'm pretty sure I brought that incident up to her every time I claimed to be sick all the way through high school.  :)  It worked too- I missed a lot of school when I was a kid.  Which brings me back to why I make my kids go unless they have a fever.  I don't want them to get into a pattern of being skippers.  It is a hard pattern to break.

Off the subject, but I was going through some greeting cards that had been my mom's the other day, and I found one I had written to her that she'd tucked in there.  It was a thank-you card I'd written to her and Dad about twelve years ago- I don't even remember writing it, but it said a lot of the things I'd hoped she knew I felt.  It made me happy to read it.

Back to today, I went and picked up my little sickie, and we spent the rest of the day on the couch snuggling and watching movies together.  Derrick came home to watch her while I went to the eye doctor again (it is healing nicely), and when I got back I started a couple new paintings.  Gonna try very hard to not add these paintings to my collection of other unfinished art stuff.  I shall persevere and prevail!!  Derrick says that right now they look like the front cover of a David Bowie album.  That's just super.

Right now we are on the couch- Derrick's watching television, and I'm writing this, while waiting for some banana bread I have in the oven to be done.  And that's about it for this day.

Mom's treasure box





Fun Surprise

Yesterday when I got home from work there was an unexpected fed-ex package waiting for me. I LOVE unexpected packages!!!! They are one of my favorite things to come home to.

It was from an artist friend who also happened to be an old neighbor of mine, clear back in the first place Derrick and I ever called a home. Rogene and her hubby Mike were so great to live next to. It was a time in life when I don’t think I appreciated the sweetness; it was just a slower time when neighbors could sit out in the grass under a tree and visit.

She is a great portrait artist- the kind that will draw out a picture of a stranger on a napkin as he drinks coffee in a restaurant- and then give it to him as a gift.

She had me come over one day and worked on a portrait for about 20 minutes for practice as we visited. We moved soon after, our lives became more busy, and here we are, seven years later.

What a cool surprise to get it in the mail! She did such a great job, and it is especially special to me because of who the artist is.

So… would it be vain to hang it in the living room? Maybe it’s more of a bedroom picture?

Portrait by Rogene McCormick 2002

Picture of myself around that same time period

Various Dreams

I want to learn how to make this:

I ordered a book about a week ago to learn how to do metal stamping.  I am EXCITED (YAYAYAY) to get it!!!  It comes with a DVD and everything!!!  My plan is to watch it, become instantly enlightened, buy all of the tools and materials to proceed, make a ton of them, have Stephanie become my selling agent, sell millions and then retire.  You gotta have a plan.
Something else I've been dreaming about is photography.  Tara (fellow aspirer and awesome photographer) sent a link to me the other day at http://www.weddingshow.com/.  Someday, we are going to do this.  Because you gotta have a dream too.

I need more hours in the day.

Tomorrow is the last day of eight hour-age at my job.  The plan is for Derrick to stay home tomorrow, get us packed **!** (A moment of silence here.....  and appreciation....  to go on a trip and not have to pack sounds even BETTER than a dream come true for me!!!) (One more moment of silence- this is just that good..............okay, now we proceed), then he will load up stuff and kids, pick me up at work at the end of my day, and onward to Seattle we shall go!  :)))  It will be so good to see David and Tara, spend time with them and also away from snow.  I plan on wearing a bikini while we are there.  I don't care if it's raining and cold- it'll be warmer there than it is here!!!

It is so gray outside today.  I'm tired- it was one of those dreaming nights last night- the kind that you wake up from feeling weepy and emotional.  It was weird though- instead of Mom, I was dreaming about Dad.  Actually, it was about a letter I had written about Dad (in my dream, because I've never actually written anything like that).  It was all crumpled up, and had some sad stuff scribbled all over it.  There were big x's crossing off all of the sad stuff, and the words "He cares more than you know" were written over and over in the side margins.  It doesn't surprise me that I dreamed about him.  I called him last night and we talked for about five minutes.  It's just so hard- our relationship always sorta hinged on Mom.  She was the one I talked to when I called.  If he ever answered the phone, it was always a quick "hi" for us and then he'd ask if I wanted to talk to Mom and I would say "Yep, love ya Dad" and then it was on to Mom.

I've been reading a book about goals and time management, and one of the goals the writer mentioned is building a closer relationship with one's dad.  That kind of caught me off guard.  Aren't parental relationships supposed to be one of those effortless bonds that just happen because of all of the shared DNA<--- Yeah, I know that last sentence doesn't even make sense, but a part of me resents that my little idealistic notion isn't reality.

The truth is, my dad worked really hard to support six children and a wife that he loved dearly, and a lot of the time I was growing up he was sleeping (he worked night-shifts).  He has a genius and a passion for anything mechanical, and one of his favorite pastimes is working on cars (or tinkering with anything with bolts and metal parts).  I inherited a large amount of introversion from him, and also the inclination to get obsessed with projects, although mine are more crafty/artsy where as his are mechanical.  I've typed him as ISTP where as I am INFP (those links go to a pretty brutal typing link, but it feels accurate- probably because each type is a composite description from many of that specific type) (As another complete side note, I find it hilarious that the INFP description is so much longer than the ISTP- it WOULD be!  INFPs are WAAAAY more concerned about this kind of stuff, as of course that personality type would be...  I could go on and on...).

Anyhoo, I'm searching for a welding class for us to have a common bond with- something I could use with jewelry and projects, and he could use on his metal stuff- he just got a plasma cutter to play with.  Haven't found anything yet, but I bet the Adult Education at the Emily Dickenson School will eventually have one.  Put that one in the goal category too, I guess.

So... those are my rambling and disjointed thoughts today:)