This week, our local library branch is having its annual sale. Yesterday, since J was going there anyway in the afternoon for the last day of the summer reading club, I went with him. I figured it wouldn't be terribly busy since it was a workday, that I'd only find a few books I wanted, and that it would be no problem to carry them the two blocks home.

Wrong on all counts.

I stopped looking after I'd chosen 24 books (mostly hardcover) because I knew that was already more than I could easily handle. It was a good thing J was with me to carry a few.

Last night, I talked to Ice on the phone and told him that they had some sci-fi and fantasy books. I said I didn't know which ones he would want and he said, "Get 'em all!"

So I went back today. Even though I thought there were only about half a dozen sci-fi/fantasy on the tables, I was smart and took the van. Good thing too because once I started looking, I found all kinds of them. The librarian said they'd had a "generous donation" the night before, mostly science fiction.

So, two trips to the van later, I came home with another 41 books, 30 of them for Ice. And I might go back again near the end of the week.

With the few hundred (free) books that Ice acquired for me earlier in the year, I'm being overrun. The thought of cataloguing them all makes me tired. The thought of reading them all (or most) makes me happy. The fact that my Canadiana collection is growing by leaps and bounds makes me very happy.

In July, Ice took the kids camping with a group from their church. I stayed home because a.) I don't do tents and b.) I don't do church. I spent the entire weekend in my office and accomplished in two days what would have taken me two weeks otherwise.

The dog stayed home with me and she didn't accomplish anything. She didn't eat for the entire weekend and didn't want to play. Instead, she moped.

This past weekend, Ice took the kids camping again. I stayed home because a.) I still don't do tents and b.) we got the dog spayed on Thursday and she needed to rest. I had planned to redesign and update this blog (and turn the comments back on) but obviously that didn't happen. I did, however, leave my office and spent about half the time in the den, watching movies. Having a laptop is wonderfully liberating.

The dog moped again but this time, she stepped it up a notch. Not only did she refuse to eat and play, she wouldn't drink anything, wouldn't go outside to pee or poop (even if I dragged her to the middle of the yard, she'd turn around and run right back into the garage), AND she spent a good portion of the weekend either standing exactly where I left her or turning her back on me.

Those last two things might have had something to do with the fact that I was forced to "cone" her when she wouldn't leave her stitches alone. Ok, that had a lot to do with it.

When Ice and the kids returned home on Sunday, she promptly peed on the floor and then again in the garage before they could get the door open. When she came back inside, she ate and drank and decided maybe I wasn't such a vile person after all. We should have named her Stubborn Ass instead of Abby.

I've decided that the next time they all go away for a weekend, they're taking the dog with them. Then maybe I can have a vacation too instead of spending far too much time cajoling and/or feeling guilty.

Then again, on both weekends, I was going a bit stir-crazy by the second day with no one to talk to. Practically bouncing off the walls, checking my email every five minutes, reading blogs and complaining that no one was posting (like I should talk). Who knows what would have happened if I hadn't had the dog around to swear at.

My Grandma died today. She was 94.

:(

This morning J woke me up and said he thought something was wrong with the freezer side of the fridge because there was water drippng out the bottom of the door.

Not exactly what I wanted to hear first thing in the morning.

I came downstairs and there was water all over the floor. I looked in the freezer and there was condensation on everything and a lot of stuff was partially thawed. I could hear the fridge running though.

My first thought was that the door had been left open a tiny bit when my husband gathered up his stuff before leaving for work (at that point, over 5 hours earlier).

I'm not the most coherent person in the morning and I couldn't figure out a way to test if the freezer was actually working. If I had to call someone to fix it, I didn't want to wait several hours. So I called my husband and he said to put a small amount of water in a glass, stick it in the freezer, and check it in an hour or so. I did that and when I checked it, the water was icing over. It eventually froze solid so everything appears to be ok. Crisis averted.

We bought a new (to us) van on Saturday so after lunch I had some phone calls to make. One of them was to my uncle who is also our insurance agent. When I called his office, the woman who answered the phone said he wasn't in but that she would take the necessary information for me. At one point during the conversation, I identified myself as her boss's niece and asked if he was just off today or if he was away. She said,

"He's away for a couple of days."
"Oh."
"Yes, apparently his mother's not very well."
"........Grandma?"
"He just popped in this morning for a couple of minutes and said he had to go. I think it's serious."

I'm thinking, wtf?? I talked to Mom on Friday and she said that Grandma fell and they thought she'd broken her hip but Grandma claimed she hadn't. They'd done x-rays and she hadn't. She was sore and they'd given her pain meds and the plan was to take her to the hospital today for more extensive x-rays. Mom was concerned but not excessively.

After I got off the phone with the insurance lady, I called my parents' house but no one was home. A few minutes later the phone rang and it was my Dad.

He said that Grandma had gone downhill rapidly; that they were giving her morphine every 3 to 4 hours; that she wanted her children to be there; that sometimes she knew who they were and sometimes she didn't; that she had thanked the nurses for taking such good care of her over the years (which is a sign, apparently); and that she sometimes thought my Grandpa was there (who died 13 years ago. also a sign).

Dad asked if I wanted to come and see her but that I should be aware that she looked terrible and that she probably wouldn't know me, if she was even awake. I said that I didn't have any way to get there (we don't get the new van until this Saturday) and he said he would come and get me. I said yes.

I spent the afternoon there, keeping my Mom company as she sat by Grandma's bedside.

It's only a matter of time now.

Not only do I not have to set my alarm tonight but I also don't have to worry about the weather. Since I've been without a vehicle for the last month or so, I've been worried that it would be pouring rain in the morning and the kids would get soaked. We got lucky though and it did not rain once for either their walk to or their walk home from school.

J & K had good report cards. L's will be arriving in the mail next week. I'm sure it will be good, too.

Last week, two great things and one shitty thing happened. One lifted an enormous weight off my (our) shoulders, one made me do a happy dance while shouting, "I was right!! Take that, you idiot doctor who made me cry every time after I left your office!" (ok, I didn't actually dance or shout but I was doing both on the inside), and one just plain sucked (and that's all I'm allowed to say about it).

Last Saturday, we went to the wedding of Ice's boss's daughter. It was held outside at his house with an enormous tent for the dinner and reception. The food was spectacular, the decorations were gorgeous, and the bar was open.

Speaking of the food, if you have the budget and you're in the right area, I highly recommend Custom Cuisine. Again, spectacular.

I made an afghan for the bride and groom. I fully intended to take a picture of it but since I was distracted in the latter half of last week (see "one shitty thing" above), I didn't get it finished until just a couple of hours before we had to leave. And then it still had to be washed, dried, and wrapped. There simply wasn't time for a picture. I asked several people if they thought an afghan would be good enough for a wedding present, given that the bride's father is a wealthy man and the bride's mother ... umm, how do I say this?... has high standards, and everyone reassured me that it would be. My sister-in-law made the point that people generally don't go out and buy afghans and that the only way they get them is if someone makes one for them. So I went ahead with it. I hope they like it.

And one final thought....

You have to like a pediatrician who walks into the room with a cane and says, "Don't worry. I'm not House." Don't get me wrong. I love House (and I told him that). I just thought it was cool that he made the reference.

Last night before I got into bed and before I turned on my bedside lamp, I looked out the window. I noticed a person at the far end of the grocery store parking lot so I thought I'd watch and make sure he wasn't trying to break into the store.

As he got closer, I saw that it was a young guy, obviously drunk judging by the way he was staggering and by the fact that he had a beer bottle in each hand. He walked out into the middle of the street directly in front of my house (this was nearly 4am so there was no traffic), stopped, and finished one of the beers.

I was thinking, you moron, but I also thought it was kinda funny.

Then, he ran up onto my lawn, took the empty beer bottle and slammed it into one of the bushes in front of my porch, ran back to the sidewalk, down the street, and into the driveway of the house next door.

I didn't think it was funny anymore.

In fact, I was furious.

I went out this afternoon to get the beer bottle and found two other bottles as well (Coke and iced tea, I think). Obviously it wasn't the first time he'd done it.

What the hell is wrong with people? I don't even know this guy, I've certainly never done anything to piss him off. Why the hell would he do such a thing?

The previous tenants in that apartment used to throw their cigarette butts on our lawn all the time. They stopped though after I started collecting them up and throwing them back. I was tempted to put the bottles outside his door but I was so angry, I was afraid I wouldn't be able to stop myself from smashing them on his step.

I hate neighbours.

Fitting in at school has never been easy for J. From kindergarten on, his teachers complained that he was bossy and controlling, that he didn't wait his turn to answer questions, that conflict resolution was a problem, that he wasn't able to get along with his peers and had almost no friends.

When he was in grade one, we arranged a meeting with his teacher and the principal. The teacher said that every day the class would split into small groups and each group would go to a different centre where they would do activities like reading or colouring or puzzles, etc. She complained that J was always telling the other children in his group what to do and how to do it.

Then the principal said that J "thinks on a higher level" than other children his age, that while the other kids were still trying to figure out what centre they were at, J already knew exactly what had to be done.

This was presented as a negative thing and I was thinking, ok, what exactly am I supposed to do about that? Punish him for being smart?

I have always tried to impress upon him the importance of letting other children figure things out for themselves, that it's ok for them to mistakes, that even though he knows how things should be done, he shouldn't boss them around. But with his personality that's never going to be easy for him.

I suggested at that meeting that perhaps he didn't have enough to do. I was told that that was definitely not the case.

His marks in school have never been spectacular, mostly 'B's, a couple of 'A's, even a 'C' now and then. He's lazy about his homework, often not bringing it home, and sometimes has to be pushed to complete projects. I've had more notes and phone calls from the school about him than about both of my girls combined.

So when the phone rang back at the end of March and the woman on the other end identified herself as a teacher (she was calling from home), I was not surprised when she said she was calling about J.

She said, "I love making phone calls like this!" And I thought, you sick woman. Then she said,

"[J] has been identified as a possible candidate for our gifted program and I'm hoping you'll give me permission to test him."

I was momentarily speechless. I've always known that he's intelligent. I've always thought that he wasn't being challenged enough in school. But I had never considered that he might be classed as gifted.

I gave my permission and over the next few days, he did a series of tests. A couple of weeks later, he did another series of tests. We met with the teachers and the principal today to find out the results.

And he is.

Starting next year for one full day per week, he'll be attending a special class with other gifted children in grades 4 to 6 from schools all over the county. His teachers think this will be a wonderful thing for him and I'm hoping that he will finally find the place where he fits in.