Category Archives: Living on the Spectrum

Control “P”… for Pissed!

April 29, 2014Living on the Spectrum, PMS (and it's not the medical one)Microsoft auto updates, printer problems, Stress free printingkathygaillaughingatlife

The usual “print operation command”, Control P has changed somehow on my computer. Maybe that last Microsoft update? Just printing out more than a page is turning this aspiring writer, normally a mild mannered and patient computer user, into a whiny one, who spent hours researching online complaints on printer websites with no results. Now when I press the control key in conjunction with the P key… the only result is that I get pissed!

Mondays usually feel so optimistic, but then the rest of the week happens! Today felt as thought I was off to a great start. I went to my weekly EPIC Group Writers. This is always an inspirational event for me. We do a timed writing exercise, based on a starter phrase to get our creative juices flowing.

After I left my writing group I felt inspired and focused; ready to begin a week full of great writing. I took a look at the memoir Monday e-mail which further inspired me to write. But shoot, I need to schedule an extra DART ride for Nick this week. Oh yes, I also need to print out a paper invoice copy from Quick Books for his gig this afternoon.

Doing anything with Quick Books is an exercise in frustration these days. Since the upgrade in 2013, the program has been more difficult to use than ever. A simple task like finding and printing an invoice for customer turns it into a 15 minute exercise of opening, closing and backtracking through sections of files in the program. Finally, I locate the correct invoice and push print.

Oh Crap! I still have issues with the printing program on this computer. It has been a while since I have had the occasion to hit the control button and the P key! I actually avoid, when at all possible, the act of printing out a paper and ink copy of any document. Trees are being saved… you understand, don’t you? Earth Day is just right around the corner. Emailing around the “PDFs” of a document is truly so much easier and certainly more economical too! Have you priced any printer ink cartridges lately? Wow, I should have bought stock in the company. They practically give away the printers, knowing that they will make back their money tenfold… on the ink!

Currently my computer system will only print one job time. After the first document group cycles through the system, I have choices to make before I can execute another print job.

If I look at the icon in my system tray, it tells me the printer is busy… printing out the job I just executed. Problem is that nothing is actually happening. Why is my computer telling me this giant lie? Clearly there are no pages showing up in the plastic tray beneath the printer. I have been told that computers use pure logic when processing information, so in theory a computer should not be able to tell a falsehood. Maybe I have discovered a new breed of processor! Tempting as it may be to announce this discovery to the World Wide Web… I must first print that invoice.

I pull up Task Manager, and find a line, called Job Status Windows Interface, which is process that I need to cancel. If I do this step the printer will spring to life and spit out the pages of the job that’s been hanging in the La La Land of the print queue. Sometimes after searching through the Task Manager, looking for the particular process to cancel and not spotting it quickly, I run out of patience! It’s easier just to restart the dang computer.

At these times, I really regret my recent purchase of a case of extra large ink cartridges. They are little, over packaged plastic units and cost almost as much as the printer did. I now have a box full of used and ready to recycle; black ink and individual colors of red, green and blue too. Every so often a pop-up window intrudes into my line of vision on the computer’s screen. It implores me to visit on the company’s website where I could of course purchase more ink cartridges, to return and recycle.

I originally purchased this unit because it was a “high volume ink printer” and more ecologically friendly than the other brands I’d been researching. This printer has turned into a “high volume” stress inducing piece of equipment! Any savings on printer ink costs have been eclipsed by the increase in my wine purchases for consumption after each printing project is completed!

The manufacturer’s Customer Service has been no help at all. In fact at one point they stated the problem exists because of a Microsoft update. They suggested that the wrong print driver had been part of that upload last month. But it came from Microsoft and not from the manufacturer of the printer, so not their problem! They had no a solution for how to remove this errant line of code which creates a logjam of printing tasks, waiting to be printed each time I turn on my computer.

When those ink cartridges are all used up… I will gleefully take this useless contraption to RE PC. This facility is handy for recycling old computers and other obsolete electronic equipment. I hope I can keep my sanity until I use up all of that ink! It seems these cartridges will only fit this one printer! How wasteful to indulge in trashing the printer before I can recoup the investment in black ink. Maybe it is time to print a first draft of the 300 page novel.

Patience does not run in my family. My youngest son recently visited and needed to print out copies of some forms he needed for a job application. I was not here to observe his process but he seemed to figure out turning on and off the computer was a way to get his documents to print. When I later looked at the printer icon, I started to laugh. There were several documents waiting to be printed in the queue. Apparently he did remember what I told him regarding the task manager step.

After struggling with this issue again today, I decided… it would be more satisfying to simply drive to the landfill and heave this printer into the abyss. After I use up all of those black ink cartridges or maybe find my COSTCO receipt… they will take back almost anything!

Stunning Surprise!

April 6, 2014Living on the Spectrum, PMS (and it's not the medical one)Maids.com, Men doing housework, Surprise Partieskathygaillaughingatlife

“Surprise” This chorus of cries came from folks who’d been crouching in the darkness, awaiting my arrival, for quite some time apparently.

I almost dropped the two bags of groceries on the floor, so great the shock of seeing many of my family members and friends jump out from behind the island in our kitchen. It was three days before my actual birthday, so this was the last thing I expected when I opened the door that led from my garage into our home.

“Wow!” was all I could utter, as I fumbled with the cloth bags and tried to take stock of what I was seeing. I had not noticed that the shades were all closed on our front windows. Nor had I noticed any additional cars on the street. Hubby had asked them to park around the corner.

“Oh you guys! This is truly amazing! How long have you been here?”

I’d just returned from a long series of errands that evening and I was running late. Fifteen minutes earlier, I’d phoned Hubby to ask what he’d like for dinner, given that I was coming home much later than I’d anticipated I was too tired to cook.

He assured me there was no need to stop. “We have plenty of leftovers that I can prepare. How soon will you be home? I will start warming up food, right now”.

I’d just returned from a three week trip to Brussels and was craving Mexican Food in a big way. I suggested “Fish tacos! There is still a lot of that Red snapper from last night. I will stop and get some of the hard shells on my way home, Okay?”

“Oh no, no need to stop at all, I bought some tortillas last week when I made dinner for our son. Just come right on home and food will be ready when you get here. You must be starved.”

He sounded so sweet. I should have known something was up.Hubby hates leftovers! Especially if it is is a repeat from the day before! How could I not have known?

Earlier that afternoon I missed another clue! Hubby swept and mopped the floors… without my even suggesting! My 60th birthday was coming up the middle of the next week. I’d mentioned splurging on The Maids ™ to come to do a bit of “deep cleaning” before the party I was planning for myself. I was pleasantly surprised when he hopped up and said he wanted to try out our new Dyson sweeper on the upstairs rooms.

Usually it is we women who clean and tidy up before the maids arrive. Men are like… “Cool! Bring it on!” They suffer no embarrassment what so ever at having total strangers see their dirt and clutter!

I was feeling a bit of jet lag and had flopped on the bed to cuddle with our dogs. I savored a few horizontal minutes before heading out to drive our son to two different music gigs that afternoon. I had shopping for some essentials planned at stores close to both of his gig locations. My efficiency truly exhausted rather than exhilarated me. Saturday afternoon traffic in Seattle was amazingly smooth and a gift I gladly accepted in my efforts to get back home and horizontal once again.

Back to my shocking surprise; I kept marveling at how smoothly my hubby hid all of this from me. I truly had no clue!

When our son chuckled “Enjoy your little party” as he left the car at our last stop, I supposed he’d meant the party I was planning for the actual day of my 60th. He’d known I was shopping for food to be used for that event. He’d been sworn to secrecy by my hubby…but his Aspergers syndrome got the better of him. He just could not resist blurting out this secret. Hubby had mentioned several times during the previous weeks, that this was a “Surprise for Mom!” We are not going to tell her about this party, OK?” Luckily I was still in a funk from flying across the pond and it didn’t penetrate the deep fog of my consciousness.

My hubby was so stealthy that he’d even made a trip to the local Good Will and purchased some inexpensive storage containers. He feared that I’d get suspicious if I noticed that some of my Tupperware® was missing in action. Yes, I am just a bit OCD about my plastic bowls, I admit it. I’ve been known to hound my kids to get back those pale blue square containers I’ve packed with surplus from a family meal. They swear I have cards on file, like the library, to track them down.

A window of time while I was at the club the evening before the party was utilized by Hubby to prepare most of the party fare. He even stored all this food in the spaciously empty fridge at our youngest son’s nearby home. The youngest was also in charge of the cake. He picked a wonderfully decadent chocolate number from the Stone Cold Creamery which was stored in the freezer at his place.

As soon as my car backed out of the drive, they all swung into action. Some of my girl friends were part of the plot! Hubby has my old Droid phone. He had their phone numbers and three whole weeks while I was out of the country, to get all the plans in place.

He was a bit worried initially when he received my email note on the “Day at Home” birthday party I was planning for my 60th. I knew I’d be spent from my travels. In addition I was facing another out of town gig the following weekend, with our musical performer son. The Southern tradition of having an “at home” day truly appealed for this big birthday celebration!

Distraction with plans for my own event aided Hubby’s execution of his stealthy soiree. He pulled off a “surprise” party that rivaled some of my best efforts!

In fact, for his mother’s 60th I had sent her an invitation to come to our home for an Art Party. All of her girlfriends were in on the deception. We’d even managed to keep this off my father in law’s radar screen. The look of shock on her face when greeted with shouts of ” Happy Birthday” at our front door was absolutely priceless! “I do not know what to say to you!” was all she could muster as she stood staring into our home. I was delighted that I’d managed to pull off this party.

Looking at the big grin on his face, I am sure my hubby felt a similar thrill as I swooned at the gathering in our kitchen.

¿Donde Esta El Bano?

March 25, 2014Living on the SpectrumDyson hand dryers, Pay toilets, public bathrooms in Europekathygaillaughingatlife

A recent phenomenon I discovered on my travels in Europe is the improved equipment in the lavatories. Europe is well advanced of the United States in handling the waste created in the public restrooms at places like the “aeroporte”. Relax folks…. I am speaking about the paper products and management of electricity and water, not the actual human products deposited there in!

We have seen the Dyson hand drying units in some of the forward thinking, progressive restrooms in the US. Let me assure you, the units across the pond have taken this concept to a whole new level.

Walking up to a sink in the women’s restroom of the Brussels airport, I found what looked like the joy stick on a plane! Not only could one elicit water flow from this appendage, but the dryer unit was part of this same device… right there in the basin. No more dripping across the counter and floor, to reach the paper towel dispenser, which is usually far,far away from the sink you have just used to wash your hands.

Of course there are no paper products in use in these uber-modern facilities. Don’t panic ladies, they do not have Dyson dryers in the actual toilets… not yet anyway. There are still the paper dispensers that remind me of my grammar school days. The very small squares of paper will do the job, if one is patient enough to pull them out, ever so gently, one at a time, a serviceable amount can be collected.

The last innovation is somewhat of a surprise, literally! Because if one dawdles a bit too long, the automatic flush will turn the ordinary looking toilet into a bidet! This could be the newest Dyson test model that would eliminate the paper products in this area as well…who knew?

Such ingenuity some with a price tag of course! Most public restrooms, even those in the gas stations in Europe, require coins to be dispersed before entry is allowed. This requires some planning as the coin slots are only sized to accept a certain coin. So if the sign says; “, 20 Euros”, one must have a single, 20 Euro coin. The door will not open, no matter how desperate one may be… if you were to insert 2 of the “,10 Euro” coins into the slot!

Finding someone to resolve the issue is not likely either. Most of these lonely outpost potties are remarkably clean and hygienic, given the absence of any helpers aside from the guy at the counter in the snack shop.

He may refund your coins, if you are able to speak his language!

Tine Thevenin Slept Here

March 14, 2014Living on the Spectrumbreastfeeding, co sleeping, Family Bed, La Leche league, rebozo baby wrapskathygaillaughingatlife

I was ecstatic! I was going to host one of our main speakers at the State La Leche League conference, author Tine Thevenin.

Best known for her book “Family Bed”; Tine gave many a parent, especially the breastfeeding moms, “permission” in the form of well documented research, to sleep with their babies. I have always been grateful to be exposed to this concept early in my parenting. Our baby slept in our bed, happily nursing during the night. Everyone was well rested and content with the arrangement.

One of the most avant-garde concepts since the breastfeeding renaissance that started in the 1960’s, was the idea that it was OK and even advantageous, to have the infant sleep in the same bed as their parents. The subtitle to the book, “an age old concept in child rearing” spoke to the fact that most other cultures, outside the US, routinely had children sleeping with their parents.

My Dad and step-mom trekked from the humid Midwest to the desert. It was a multi-purpose trip. They’d yet to set eyes on our first child and my sister was being married that summer. They went from the “steamer pot, into the oven” since July in either part of the world was not pleasant. Successive visits were planned during the winter when golf clubs replaced the Osborne portable computer in their luggage.

They admired the lovely nursery I’d created. I had restored some of my own baby furniture. My parents had invested in sturdy maple hardwood pieces. The chest of drawers had survived not only three children’s use but had seen me through my single days before I was well off enough to purchase a bedroom set.

We had not advertised the fact that our nursery was only used at naptime to many folks outside my circle of La Leche League friends. I certainly didn’t greet my parents at the airport with the announcement that we used “Family Bed”. After a night or two my step- mom wryly commented “That is a great nursery you have set up there. Will the kid ever sleep in that bed?”

I had to admit that “No, to date he has not spent the night in there.” I launched into the Family Bed concept. I explained why my husband and I had opted for “more sleep through family bonding at nighttime.” She chuckled; “We were so poor, that we didn’t have a crib. All the babies slept with Mom when we were little.” Several of the siblings shared a bed most of their years at home. A single bed was a luxury that they didn’t experience until they’d left home.

As the Area Conference Coordinator for our state La Leche League organization, I had a full plate. I’d given birth to my middle son, in January of that same year. I had foresight to enlist lots of support from our local membership to get organized events moving along. La Leche League has a tenant “Family First”, which means we all took time out to tend to our families as needed and others pitched in to take up the slack.

Operating an a limited budget but determined to pull together a meaningful program for all of the attendees, our state La Leche League organization relied on assistance from local families to provide lodging for our guest speakers and attending members, from out of town. It was an honor and a much cherished memory, to have one of the Founding Mothers stay in one’s home.

This particular year, I was able to have Tine Thevenin as our special guest speaker at our Area Conference. My second child was only 4 months old. Swaddled in my “Rebozo style” cloth baby carrier, he was experiencing the life of the Mexican farmers’ children that inspired the wrap’s use. Not yet crawling, he was content to be snuggled on my chest. He was toted along to planning meetings, previewing the conference facility, napping in between nursing, without a care.

Our conference went well. We had over 200 attendees, not counting the nursing babies and toddlers that accompanied their moms. As the afternoon went on, Tine expressed the desire to return to our home for a nap. She was a bit jet lagged from her flight from Minnesota out to Phoenix. A nap would get her refreshed before speaking at the evening banquet that was the finale of our conference that year. I was still bustling around the facility and not ready to depart just yet. Being a Toyota owner herself, Tine was comfortable with driving my Tercel back to the house. Equipped with a map and good directions she set off. I would catch a ride later with another mother who lived close to my home.

The directions worked perfectly but as she made the last turn indicated on the directions and arrived on our street the house number was not noted on the paper. In the early 1980’s cell phones were a luxury item found in the limousines of the wealthy. The only optional equipment in my bare bones Tercel was the infant seat.

As a stranger she did not want to disturb neighbors or possibly raise alarm, to ask which home belonged to Kathy. Calm and resourceful she pondered the situation. Looking up she spotted the automatic garage door opener. Slowly she cruised down the street, depressing the button repeatedly. She was at last rewarded by the friendly gesture of a garage door swinging up to welcome her into our garage.

After hearing her story later that evening I apologized profusely for forgetting the most important piece of information on the directions. She burst into laughter saying it was just another adventure in her life. She then confessed that she’d had a very refreshing cold shower as her ingenuity with the garage opener had failed her in decoding one armed type shower control.

In spite of the minor challenges she appreciated our hospitality immensely. She truly disliked staying in hotels. She loved being able to get up and make a cup of tea, from my well stocked pantry. The porcelain tea cup transformed our home tea service to that of a luxury suite, in her estimation.

Thirty years later, I still treasure my personally autographed copy of Family Bed.

It keeps good company with my dog eared copy of The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding and a copy of Ashley Montague’s books; Touching: The Human Significance of The Skin and Growing Young.

Designated Driver?

March 4, 2014Living on the SpectrumDay Surgery centers, out patient proceedures, remembering phone numberskathygaillaughingatlife

Those of us over a “certain age” know the drill for outpatient medical procedures. I say “certain age”, because hitting age fifty is the threshold. There begins the not so subtle pressure from our medical practitioners, for tests to be done. The ominous Colonoscopy and other checkups, require one to be sedated during the process and therefore deemed not capable of operating a motor vehicle. . A “designated driver” must show up when the outpatient staffers are ready to release you from their realm of responsibility.

My recent experience revealed a much scripted process that none of the nurses or staff wished to deviate from. Nor was new information accepted. No messing with their perceived normal routines was tolerated.

“Hello, this is Nurse Nelly and I am callin’ to let you know that Miz Kathy is ready to come home”. Her Eastern Seaboard accent was delightful as she drawled on.

“Who is this?” a bit sharper now, “Do you know a Kathy Passage?” Nurse Nelly paused to listen to the response on the other end of the phone line… “Oh, she’s your Mother?”

By now I am sitting up on the gurney and gesturing to her, to confirm just what number she dialed! It sounds like she has mistakenly reached my home number! Yup, the continuing conversation confirms this:

“Oh! you are Nick Baker? And Kathy is your mother?” Nurse Nelly now resumes the script, oblivious to my frantic waving and verbal request to intervene into this conversation. “Well, as I was saying… Miz Kathy is ready to be picked up from the Surgery Center.” “What! You can’t drive? Oh, you are blind.”

Finally Nurse Nelly turns around to me, quizzical look on her face, but she does respond to my gesturing and relinquishes the phone. “Hi Nick, yes, it’s Mom.”

“No honey, I am just fine. I am not sure why Nurse Nelly called our home number.”

“Yes, Hubby is going to come and get me from the Surgery Center. He is at work right now, just waiting for the call from Nurse Nelly saying that I can leave.”

“While I have you on the line, could you please tell me Hubby’s cell phone number?” I repeat back aloud the number and watch while the nurse jots this down. ( I have to share with you readers that my son knows this number by heart. He is blind and can’t see the contacts on our phone.)

It is a mystery why the Surgery Center nursing staff had not been successful locating Ray’s cell number. When I arrived several hours earlier this day, my Hubby’s cell number was noted by the admitting team and put into my chart. After asking me who would be in the waiting room, I explained that Hubby worked downtown, literally ten minutes away from the center. I assured the intake worker that he would arrive to drive me back home, as soon as he was called on his cell phone. “What was that number?” she asked, proceeding to write it on a bright blue Post-It. I actually saw this, I swear.

I was handed the skimpy gown, booties and a bright orange plastic bag in the Pre-Op area of the Surgery Center. I had to relinquish all my clothes and other worldly goods, including my Droid phone to the intake nurse and hopped up onto the gurney.

“Who is in the waiting room to take you home today?” she asked as she consulted paperwork. I went over the facts, again. “Hubby will be picking me up today. His cell phone is the phone number to call to arrange my pick up from the Surgery Center!” The nurse rifled through the folder on the table and asked me to give her Hubby’s cell number again. The bright blue Post-it was nowhere in sight.

I sighed and explained that I did not know his cell number by heart. As a special favor, the bright orange bag was returned to my curtained area. I rummaged through clothing, shoes, socks and other items and found my Droid. I waited for a seeming eternity while the sound effects played and various red designs flashed on the screen. Finally I was able to access the contacts section and read aloud Hubby’s cell phone number. The nurse noted it on the folder. She returned the orange plastic bag back to the locked storage unit where all patients’ personal belongings were secured.

A medic appeared through the curtains with the first of several treatments to ready me for my procedure. These included a shot into my IV drip, a relaxation drug that he called the “I don’t care” drops. I was fully aware during my procedure, but in a state of narcotic bliss. I truly did not care what the doctors were doing to me! As long as they kept me swaddled with those nice, soft, toasty blankets, I was happy as a clam.

Shift change happened while I was in the Operating Theater. I had a new nurse, named Nellyy. She was from Massachusetts. She brought me a large cup of water, complete with the bendy straw. I gulped it down like a lost pilgrim just entering the Oasis in the midst of the desert. This was followed by crackers, orange juice and individually wrapped Tillamook cheese slices to help me recover from the pre-operation fast. When she determined that I was sufficiently hydrated and nourished she opened the folder and dialed.

Eventually it was sorted out that Hubby was indeed coming to rescue me… but there was more to the “script” that was still running in Nurse Nelly’s head. Apparently our pickup arrangement deviated from their normal routine. “When your Hubby pulls up to the Out Patient Loading Area, designated by the white paint on the cement curb, I will deliver you, in the wheelchair and help him get you into the car.”

I reminded her, again, that I had actually driven myself to the facility and parked my car in the garage. “We’re simply going to get into the elevator and go down to parking level B.” She sternly reminded me “You are still not allowed to operate a motor vehicle!”

“No, no, I am not driving home. Hubby is driving us home.”

“Will he bring the car up to the Patient Loading Area?” Nurse Nelly was struggling to stay on script. Her hands gripped the handles of the wheel chair as she looked at me expectantly.

“Nope, I am walking out of here, under my own steam. But thanks for the offer.”

We made our escape! In the car going home, we chuckled at the tenacity of the nurse and the rest of the staff. “No one is going to get away with any deviation to their program, for sure.”

A step will be added to my next encounter with Surgery Center. I will ask them, whilst they are writing with a Sharpie on the appendage or area to be treated or investigated… to write my Hubby’s cell number on my hand!

Even fully alert and not coming out of anesthesia, I cannot remember that number!

Happy Valentine’s Day

February 15, 2014Living on the Spectrum, PMS (and it's not the medical one)Car trouble, Car wash, Greeting Cards, Men shopping at last minute, Valentine's Daykathygaillaughingatlife

I pulled into the driveway and blinked at the glare of the bright light coming from the open garage door. I glanced over to the front door of our home to see my Hubby and our two Norwegian Elkhound pups sitting in the glow of the front entry lights.

Hubby looks up from his smart phone, “Where have you been? You said you were about a minute away when we spoke on the phone and that was a long time ago!”

This was the not so perfect ending to a disastrous day. Most women’s expectations for Valentine’s Day are filled with lovely greeting cards, boxes of chocolates and red roses. Today was the stellar opposite.

On Thursday evening, I’d already been warned not to look for a card the next morning at the breakfast table. Hubby came home complaining that evening; “There are just not any good cards this year!” He’d stopped at the grocery on his way home; “They had no selection at all!” He remarked that he saw the same guys in the aisle, when he’d circled back around a second time. “The Hallmark section had the same stupid cards as the regular stationery aisle and none of us were having any luck.”

“Well gee, wait another day and you could have purchased at half price!” I voiced aloud the chagrin that more than one woman has experienced when the man of their dreams doesn’t exactly plan ahead for the biggest card and chocolate holiday of the year!

“And no one could deliver any flowers tomorrow either”. Hubby reported how shocked he’d been, when he’d phoned the local florist. “They said that the soonest they could deliver an arrangement to our home was Saturday afternoon!” Clearly other men in our locale had similar luck. The grocery where Hubby was shopping for a card must have been completely sold out of flowers suitable for a Valentine’s Day bouquet.

Valentine’s Day this year was clearly not going to be the swirls and curly accents atop premium truffles nestled in a satin ribbon wrapped box. Nope, not even the cello Red Heart overwrap on a box of Russell Stover’s was likely to appear on Friday morning with my name on it!

Lucky for my Hubby I wash my car frequently! The folks at the Pink Elephant Car Wash are extremely retail savvy and know their customers well. Women who patronize deluxe car wash businesses will undoubtedly browse and purchase from the wonderful selections of gifts and cards displayed in the lobby. On the rare occasion that men visit the car wash, they will be checking Fantasy Football scores on their I-Phones. Just in case the car wash gift center also stocks green pine tree shaped air fresheners and rotate through various “holiday” shapes too. This time of year they featured red hearts scented with vanilla or cinnamon.

Giving idle women opportunity and access to tempting goods is always great retail strategy. What better way to spend the time while waiting in the lobby? By the time the shiny clean and waxed cars with sparkling windows arrive at the other end, I have added to my stash on hand of Birthday Card. In fact I have loads of cute greetings for various holidays and just about any occasion, due to my penchant for a clean car! Hubby did thank me for the pretty card I left by his computer that morning. He finished off the box of 16 truffles by noon the next day too! Unfortunately my planning and execution, delivering on time only highlighted his lack and clearly did not score any points, despite the efforts I’d made.

To say the day had not gone well was the understatement of the year. In an attempt to make up for no card or flowers, Hubby had decided he’d take me to lunch. He was working from home today, so it would be convenient to do lunch. He had phoned our local favorite restaurant only to discover that they were completely booked. “Shocking that so early in the afternoon, on Valentine’s Day they would not have a table for two!”

We’d settled on a quick bowl of Udon soup and the Sushi special at our favorite local spot, Sushi Moto. I managed to coax the pups into the car and promised them an outing to the Off Leash Park if they were well behaved while we had our lunch. I pushed the button on my Prius and nothing happened!

“What is wrong?” Hubby has now joined the pups in the rear seat and is peering over at the dash which is now displaying a series of flashing warning lights. He likes to ride in the back with the pups to reassure them during a car ride and keep them calm.

“This has never happened before” I explain. “It was just fine when I came home last night!” I am now searching for the little tag that has the phone number of Toyota Care. Hubby tries in vain to convince the pups to leave the car and get into his Volkswagen Jetta. Nothing doing… they were promised a trip to the Doggie Park and were not going to be short changed!

I walked into the house to be able to hear the options being presented by the automatic voice answering system on the line that would provide me with “excellent service at Toyota Care today.” Several selections later I finally was speaking with a real person. After repeating back the VIN for my Prius, she assured me that someone would be calling me, “within the next hour” to schedule a local tow to the nearest Toyota dealership, where they would of course “provide me with excellent customer care.”

I relayed al of this to Hubby who finally picked up the 50 pounders and lugged them into his back seat. He was not happy to have lunch further delayed by the wait for a call from the local towing company. We agreed that in the essence of getting some food anytime soon, that he would drive over to Sushi Moto and order takeout. The pups were clearly not going to get out of his car willingly, so they went along for the ride.

By the time he returned with Styrofoam cups filled with hot noodles and plastic trays of salmon rolls, I had yet to hear from the folks at the “local” towing company. But finally as I was slurping the last of my Udon, the phone rang and help was only a few blocks away.

In the midst of all of the car chaos, a DART bus appeared at the curb in front of our home, bearing our son Nick. Nick is returning from his first of three gigs for Valentines’ Day this year. Nick is totally blind and so blissfully unaware of the presence of the paralyzed Prius parked in the garage. My vehicle was not actually needed until his last engagement around 7:00pm. With an individual who is “on the spectrum” it is wise to sometimes not share details that will not impact them. Rather than introduce a new worry into his day, I decided not to burden him with the knowledge of the current motor malfunction until we’d determined a cause and an outcome for transporting the needed equipment later that evening. His ride to the 2:00pm performance was on schedule and hopefully by the time he returned we’d be all set with either a functioning automobile or a loaner from the Toyota dealer, suitable in size to hold his keyboard and sound equipment.

As luck would have it the tow company’s truck arrived at the exact time as Nick’s driver for gig number two. Fortunately we were able to convince Nick that the best use of his time was to quickly get into the driver’s car and get onto his next engagement. We promised to fill him in upon his return home later that afternoon and assured him that this would not cause any problems for him at his last gig.

Toyota did turn around the car repair in record time. I returned home in less than two hours which was amazing for a Friday afternoon, going into Presidents Day holiday weekend! This was a good omen that the day was not a total loss after all.

The Elkhound Pups were still shortchanged on their outing and Hubby volunteered to walk them before dark. He mentioned a quick walk to our town’s center… coincidentally the location of a new local brewery and pub! I had some errands left to do and while they were on their stroll I had a brilliant idea which might just salvage the day. The brewery only served their various ales, but no food permits were completed just yet. They graciously allowed patrons to bring in food to go along with their quaffs. I phoned Hubby and when he didn’t answer, left a message that I could drive by our local Pagliacci’s Pizza which now featured “by the slice” servings. “No longer do we need to wait to get our teeth into gooey cheese and crispy crusts to go with that Porter you are probably slurping down about now,” I said playfully. I drove on and waited for a callback. After a few more minutes I redialed.

“Where are you?” I asked, wondering if he’d taken a different route that went into the dead zone of no cell signals. “Did you get my message? I am almost to the Pizza place.”

“No, I didn’t hear the phone and where are you anyway? I am at the front door of the house. It’s locked! I don’t have my key.”

“I am literally just around the corner. I was headed to get your car filled with gas, but I can swing by and open the door. I will be there in just a second.” I make a quick turn back into our neighborhood. As I slowdown in the front of the house, I spied my Hubby sitting on the porch, both pups at his feet. I waved and hit the garage door button. Seeing the light come on as the door started rolling up, I drove off to fill Hubby’s almost empty tank and complete the last of my errands.

Turns out that Hubby had not actually seen me wave and was oblivious to the noise from the garage door opening. Whatever he was viewing on his Droid-RazorX, had completely captured his attention.

About 40 minutes later I returned to see Hubby still seated at the front door, oblivious to the gaping garage door and the bright lights piercing the darkness. From his seated position at the front door, he could not see the light beaming out from the garage and did not realize that the door had opened.

I was astonished and amazed! He knew from my phone call that I would be there in less than a minute, yet here he sat. My first reaction was “Oh my gosh! I am so sorry that you are still stranded at the front door!”

Almost an hour had passed. I started to think aloud, never a good idea in this sort of situation… “Why,” I asked Hubby “Did you not call me back to ask where I was?” In a similar situation, I would have been frantic with worry, but he was remarkably calm as a cucumber! “Were you not worried about me at all?” This incited guilt and angry comments of denial ensued. “Whose fault was it that he’d been stuck out front?”

Continuing on my collision course of discord, I pointed the obvious. He’d been so glued to his Droid that he hadn’t walked around to the rear patio and let himself into the house via that unlocked door. In fact he’d surely have noticed the gleaming lights from the garage door which was of course still wide open.

Yikes! This was a doomed day and I was pouring gasoline on the fire and fanning the flames! Each time I opened my mouth to comment on the situation only increased the air supply to what was becoming a 3 alarm fire.

I took a breath, stopped talking and went into the kitchen to see what I could put together for a quick dinner. Hubby went to the rec room to watch his favorite Friday night program, which started right at 7:00pm. He was a bit anxious about missing the opening monologue, but I soon heard laughter floating up the stairs. After a bit he returned to the kitchen with a container of frozen Spinach Ravioli as a peace offering. He asked if I’d like help with preparation to complete the meal. I was in the midst of making our favorite Dijon Vinaigrette recipe. I let him off the hook by saying I’d take it from there.

By now our son had returned from gig number three, slightly miffed that he and his performance partner had not been offered any of the special goodies served top residents during their performance at the deluxe residential facility for retirees. He may be blind but his nose is amazing at detecting all the wonderful aromas that swirl around in the air.

I let him know what we were having for our dinner. Vegetarian fare is not his favorite. He chose a leftover entrée containing sausage from the night before instead. He was still worried about his favorite part of any meal…dessert. I let him know that I had saved him a slice of the special cake I’d made earlier in the week. His smile lit up the entire kitchen. “I love you Mom!”

I am sure glad that one of the men in my life felt kindly toward me on Valentine’s Day!

Readers… how did you fare this year?

Shopping Lists

February 4, 2014Living on the Spectrum, PMS (and it's not the medical one)COSTCO, OCD, shopping list, Smart phoneskathygaillaughingatlife

Our luncheon companion excused herself yet again. “My husband is grocery shopping” she sighs rolling her eyes as she left the table with her smart phone held out in front of her face.

The remaining women chuckled and a lively debate started about the recent joke circulating on Face Book; a woman’s tale of her well meaning man, volunteering to do the grocery shopping but utilizing a list that was not current. The punch line as delivered as her hubby strolls out the door answering his wife’s’ query. “Do you have the grocery list?”

“Oh yes” the husband affirms. He proudly displays a wadded slip of paper from his pocket, “I saved the one from last time.”

Our companion rejoins us, quizzically looking at our animated faces. “What is so funny?”

“Does your hubby have the right list?” We chuckle as we relate the joke in discussion.

“Oh this is even better than the last week’s list story!” She slides her phone across the table to me. It shows a man’s arm, holding up an orange. He is clearly in a grocery produce department of the grocery store.

“Keep going!” She encourages me to scroll through the recent shots on her phone’s picture gallery. There are several more photos, each of slightly different types of citrus.

“Now read his text.” She reaches back for her Droid and quickly opens the text screen for all of us to view. Her hubby is clearly confused about the difference between Navel and Valencia oranges.

“You have to hand it to him, he is eager to get it right.” I dish out some praise for the hubby. “Smart phone photos and text technology has possibly saved many a modern marriage!” chimes in another woman.

A well coiffed silver haired woman in the group laughed aloud. “I wish my husband would get a smart phone!” “I have to decide, based on his verbal descriptions, which items to have him bring home.”

“If I can’t decipher his clues well enough, it’s my fault if he doesn’t bring home the right item.”

I’m proud to say my Hubby is pretty savvy on the grocery shopping trips. He does cook a good percentage of the time and is usually in charge of procuring his ingredients. A cute demo chef with a totally awesome recipe can alter his menu plan, but he is a guy after all.

Our biggest challenges happen when he raids the pantry for one of his dishes. He forgets to let me know that he just used up the last container of tomato paste, emptied the curry powder jar or some other ingredient that I had plans for I another meal or recipe.

We do have a magnetic grocery list pad and pencil too, stuck right on the front of the fridge. Sometimes it gets utilized. I am just as guilty on this omission as he. Actually, the dogs did just abscond with the pencil, which is now in splinters down in their dog run. No matter… there is usually something within reach to scratch down an item on the shopping list if we will just pause a moment and jot it down.

We have a distinct advantage in obtaining all the items we need for our household, if either of us in accompanied by our son, Nick. He may be blind but I will tell you he has a great recall of what is in the pantry. His inventory of the contents of the fridge and both freezers is equally amazing. He is a bit OCD about making sure that we are ALWAYS in stock on any of the items he eats or uses in any way.

He knows the exact quantity of frozen orange juice cans on the bottom shelf of the freezer downstairs. He can advise me of the count on the bagels he loves for his favorite breakfast item; smoked salmon and cream cheese on toasted bagels. Want to know how many slices of Tillamook cheddar or Deli style boneless sliced turkey are in the refrigerator’s Tupperware containers, just ask Nick.

Not only are the jars of his favorite sandwich sliced pickles inventoried before any given shopping trip, he usually knows how many slices are remaining in the currently open jar on the top shelf of the Maytag Plus refrigerator in our kitchen.

We recently faced a perceived emergency on the supply of toilet paper at home. Nick keeps a pretty close count on the individually wrapped rolls we use in our household. He is the one who carries in the bulky packages of the bathroom tissue, distributes and organizes all the rolls in both bathroom cabinets.

He announced one evening “We are out of toilet paper in my bathroom!”

“Truly not a roll left?” I seemed to remember purchasing this item recently so I ask” Did you look in our bathroom?”

“It is all gone Mom.”

I get up and trod down the stairs to the bathroom on the lower level of our home. This is primarily Nick’s domain. Unless we have guests, he is the main user of this bathroom.

“I see two rolls here which means you still have enough for a few days or maybe even the week, certainly enough to last until tomorrow morning. The store closes very soon so we need to wait to go shopping first thing.”

He reluctantly agrees that tomorrow will be soon enough to shop for replenishment. He cannot argue with the logical fact that the store is closing in 5 minutes. It is a 15 minute drive, with good traffic, so there is no possible way we can obtain the desired big 40 count container this evening.

As I write this I have to share; I heard rustling behind me and have stopped typing to investigate.

Oh, oh! Someone didn’t get the door completely latched on the powder room just outside my office. I swivel around in my chair just in time to see our two Elk hound puppies absconding with not one or two, but three rolls of the individually wrapped toilet tissue that were stashed on the pretty wire rack that sits in that extra bathroom.

The game is on! Can I catch them before they destroy all three rolls? I manage to get between the dogs and the master bedroom door. If I could not have cut them off, they’d be under the California King bed, out of reach and free to shred all three rolls. Clever pups, they seem to know just how far I can reach under that bed!

“Bad Chew!” I say this sternly and offer several toys that are “Good Chew” items. I retrieve the rolls, which are only slightly damaged and firmly close the powder room door. Click goes the latch; a” good sound!”

Back to the supply issue at home last week, it is tabled until the next morning. We get to bed and all is well for the rest of the evening.

Next morning I am awakened by the pups growling at a sound. It is still early enough that I can’t see the alarm without turning on the light and waking my Hubby. He seems to sleep through all but the most violent canine disturbances. I swear the slightest whimpers can catapult me out of the bed. Must be my mother’s ear or maybe it’s the fact that I have to clean up accidents that might happen if little puppy bladders get beyond their capacity, who knows?

I crack open the door of our bedroom. There is someone in the kitchen! Nick is already up and has begun assembling his breakfast items. He is determined to get to the COSTCO as soon as possible. Eating breakfast is all that stands in the way of his ability to restock the supply and feel the comfort of knowing his cupboard is full again.

Sighing, I throw back the covers and swing into morning mode. Our curly tailed Norwegian elk hound pups scamper out into the hall, down the stairs, to dash out into their well fenced dog run via their dogie door. “Whack, whack” the vinyl flap slaps to and fro as they rebound right back to our bedroom. Our canine alarm clocks hop up onto the bed, waking Hubby with wet kisses and cold noses on any extremity that is poking out of the covers.

With an early start today at least my Hubby will be up and on schedule to catch the bus at his usual stop. IF he dawdles a bit too long, there is one last park and ride he can hit before the Community Transit bus hits the interstate for the express lane to travel directly downtown.

Monday is “THE” day that Nick restocks his vitamin container. This will use up approximately half an hour, as he carefully and meticulously counts out each of his supplements and installs them in the Daily Dose container he uses every morning. This allows me a block of time to get going on the Smoothies without dodging my blind son as he navigates to and from the cupboards and precariously close to my work space. It is truly amazing that he manages to not step on pups or run into counters, chairs or the occasional cupboard door that is ajar. We all do our best, pups included, to keep a clear path for Nick.

Finally breakfast is consumed, puppies are fed and Hubby is backing out the drive routed to his usual bus stop. Enough time has elapsed that we will be arriving just about the time that the early wholesale shoppers are admitted to our COSTCO warehouse. We select a cart, Nick folds up his long red tipped cane and we travel toward the entrance. Since the main purpose of this trip is obtaining more bathroom tissue, we go straight for the aisle where the household supplies are located. Facial tissues are also on the list, so this big plastic bundle of 250 ct. boxes is tossed into our cart, along with the paper towels.

Oh rats! I do not see any big bundles of the individually wrapped single rolls of the Kimberly Clark bath tissue. I scan the aisle for COSTCO personnel but to no avail. During “early wholesale member” hours there is not the usual staffing in the warehouse. I am reluctant to share this news with Nick just yet. He is rarely persuaded to switch to another brand or package configuration. His need is not only to restock the toilet tissue in his cupboard. There are a certain number of rows of individual packages, stacked to a certain height, that fit just so in his cupboard.

“ Let’s walk down a few rows” I say, hoping that the game of musical merchandise played by this big volume warehouse means the desired item has just been relocated to a new spot. The TP gods are not smiling on us today. We locate the new home of all bath tissue products but do not see the desired brand. I finally locate an employee who informs me that this item is now only sold at the COSTCO “Office Supply” location. It seems most of the household type shoppers at this warehouse location did not purchase significant quantities of the individually wrapped products. It is all about the numbers!

Fortunately this other location is only 20 minutes from our home… in the other direction of course! Nick is happy to hear this news and we are back in the car motoring toward the location up north. I feel as though I am on a scavenger hunt, homing in on the final prize.

Nick is still fairly calm and this is good news. If he doesn’t hear an absolute “No” he is a pretty patient guy. Singing is one way to keep his brain occupied while on the road. This morning we are in conversation about favorite childhood items he enjoyed long ago. Many family members and friends took the time and effort to give Nick gifts that “made noise”. These ranged from the well intended gifts of mugs that would play electronic music when lifted from the table surface to the talking Mattel toys like “the Farmer Says” or the “ABC Bee Says”.

Here is a helpful hint for those of you who have received those musical cups. Running them through the full cycle of the dishwasher usually disables them! The clue is the sticker on the bottom with instructions that say “hand wash only”. One can only hear the chirpy electronic version of Happy Birthday or Merry Christmas so many times without screaming. This is especially true in families that already have that quote filled by other behaviors from their special kids.

Nick is fluent in both Spanish and English. I turned his usual recitation of the entire alphabet via the “Bee Says” by asking him “Nick what would this toy sound like if it were a Spanish version?”

He started out on the very first item.” A is for manzana! Oops! This doesn’t translate.” Nick was momentarily stumped. “Okay, let’s try A for agua” he said beaming with pride. We spent most of the rest of the trip figuring out what words would fit the alphabet using only Spanish. He even included the extra letters, like “ll is for llama” that would be found in the Spanish version. This was actually lots of fun and detracted him for worry about the bathroom tissue for the remainder of the trip.

The good news is that our shopping trip ended well. Cupboards are restocked with the necessary paper goods again. If the future tsunami threat ever occurs, our home’s paper supply could probably stop that wave in it tracks and save our community on the Puget Sound.

Channeling Erma

December 18, 2013Living on the Spectrum, PMS (and it's not the medical one)Black Turtle Beans, Cooking, Erma Bombeck, Family Favorites, Kale, Midwestern cooking, recipe box, Recipe Substitutions, Swiss chard, White Bean and Chard Soupkathygaillaughingatlife

I believe I channel Erma when I cook.

I refer to Erma Bombeck, the American humorist whose columns included a piece called “Substitutions, A Piece of Cake”.

Erma started out her career writing for Dayton Journal Herald. Very quickly her articles were nationally syndicated and loved by readers all over the world.

I believe Erma and I are kindred spirits, especially when we tie on the aprons and pull out the pots and pans. I too grew up in the Midwest not far from Dayton, Ohio, where she was raised.

In the column I mention above, she substitutes ingredients with reckless abandon. Her hilarious results did not remotely resemble the finished product described in the original recipe. When you live out in the country, a good 30 minute drive from the local Kroger grocery, you may have to improvise… just a little bit.

Tonight I made “White Bean and Chard Soup”. This is a family favorite, made frequently. It can be thrown together in about 30 minutes. It’s one of those “Go To” recipes that I have in my plastic green recipe box.

The avocado shade of green gives it away; it is an old box. The top hinges are broken. I have to keep sliding them back into the grooves on the bottom half of the box. It is treasure trove of irreplaceable recipes. Some are so old and faded that if I did not already know them by heart I’d be searching the internet for similar recipes.

A favorite is my grandmother’s recipe for Spaghetti Sauce. Ingredients include “one 5 oz can of tomato paste; to be rinsed out and refilled with red wine”. This is to be added to the sauce and simmered for an additional 30 minutes.

Priceless! Just for the nostalgia factor alone.

I received this recipe box as a Betty Crocker promotional give away. I loved it because it was much bigger than regular recipe boxes. My Mom had a little white enamel box, decorated with red fleur–de–lis. It was rusted at the edges, from years of use in steamy Midwest kitchens.

I was in my “Earth Mama” stage of life. I cooked from scratch with whole food ingredients. I immediately tossed all of Betty’s preprinted recipes that involved use of canned soup or boxed cake mix. The alphabetized place holders came in handy. The extra blank cards were put to use. I filled the box with my tried and true family favorites.

Prepping for the evening meal, I was in trouble. I looked in the pantry. No cans of white beans! There was certainly not time to soak and cook the dried ones. Going out to the store was not the least bit appealing. We were in the middle of a drizzly, Seattle winter day. At 4:00pm, it was already dark.

Lucky me! I found 2 cans of Black Turtle on another shelf. The rest of my ingredients were pretty close to the original recipe. Who would truly notice that I substituted Kale for the Swiss chard?

“Is this KAAALE?” Hubby’s exaggerated pronouncing of the word gives anyone within earshot a clear idea on his lack of affection for greens.

I strategically first suggested a different entrée; Hearty Pumpkin soup. Hubby likes his pumpkin in the form of pie. He was happy to hear the 2^nd choice would be the White Bean and Chard recipe. Good thing he voted for that one right away. I did not have a third recipe to offer that would not involve a major shopping trip.

Our middle son, dining with us on this evening, happens to be totally blind. He certainly would not notice the bean substitution. Black turtles are about the same shape and size as White Canella beans. If you cut the black ones in half, guess what? They are white inside!

This soup is so full of veggies that it makes a great entrée. I love it topped with a poached egg. Add some crusty whole wheat bread to dip into the egg yolk and the broth, there is no need for more than a glass of wine and maybe some dessert.

Hubby enters the kitchen and lifts the lid of the pot. He loudly announces the obvious; “There are black beans in this soup!” I confirm “yes, indeed these are Black Turtle Beans.”

Hubby stirred suspiciously through the liquid mixture simmering on the gas burner. He replaced the lid on my Le Crueset® soup pot.

“What recipe is this?” he asks. I assure him that this is the usual recipe with a substitution with the type of bean only.

Well just another slight change. I used Sun Dried tomatoes in EVOO. I normally would use canned Organic S&W roasted and peeled tomatoes that for this recipe.

And of course there was the Kale. But when greens are cooked they pretty much all look the same. I didn’t trouble him with this additional detail.

My son, now alerted to the switch on the beans, is asking all sorts of questions about the soup and dinner in general. I assure him this will be great and he will enjoy every spoonful.

It helped to remind him of the Flourless Chocolate Torte topped with Caramelized Pears that was for dessert.

Dinner went off without further challenges. I grated lots of Parmesan cheese over the servings. Subterfuge needed to distract my diners from the fact that we didn’t have Aged Balsamic vinegar. Recipe called for vinegar to drizzle on top of the servings.

Hubby was delighted to try out Tabasco sauce on his poached egg topper. Tabasco and Sirracha Hot sauce are his usual condiments of choice on most entrees anyway.

Erma would be proud! Thanks to the chronicles of her adventurous culinary spirit, I certainly have little inhibition when the need to improvise arises.

I wish the Erma Bombeck Cook Book existed. I’d love a quest to cook my way through all of her recipes? I’d substitute ingredients freely and blog about the results. Maybe write a cookbook? Hmmmm …

My recipe substitutions rarely result in “Erma Bombeck recipe disasters. Not many of my entrees get tossed onto the compost heap. My meals are not fed to the “In Sink Erator” garbage disposal. My culinary experiments turn out great!

I write down those “amended” versions on one of the blank cards and file in my big green recipe box.

PS: here is my recipe: Chard and White Bean Stew

For the Greater Good

December 18, 2013Living on the Spectrum"happy hour" music, "Think Positive", "This One's For You", 2013, Asperger Syndrome, Assisted Living Entertainment, Autism, Blind, Blind Musician, Blind performer, Corporation for National and Community Service., DART, Pacific Northwest, Para Transit services, Seattle Times Dec 15, Senior Centers, Service to Others, Volunteerismkathygaillaughingatlife

“In Service to Others” was the featured article in the Seattle Times Pacific Northwest’s Sunday Magazine on December 15^th. I often read inspiring articles to my son, who is blind. He doesn’t subscribe to a service for news in a version he could “read” with his finger tips. He wouldn’t be able to grasp the full impact of the article in Braille anyway, as the pictures add a dimension he’d miss without my verbal description.

The article profiles many Seattle area residents and details their countless hours of service to their communities. Here is one statistic that stood out. The national average for volunteerism is at 27 percent – about 83 million people helped their neighbors, churches, schools and charities in 2011 according to survey by the Corporation for National and Community Service.

In Washington state the figure was higher: Nearly 35 percent of residents spent an average of 40 hours a year in voluntary pursuits, according to the survey! I could see the wheels turning in Nick’s mind. We stopped and calculated his hours for the last year. He averages 2-3 hours every Friday at our local Senior Center playing the grand piano in the dining room during the lunch hour. In addition this year he has added the first Monday of each month to his hours at this site. By our calculations he logs about 192 hours a year doing his volunteer work at this one location alone. He added some volunteer sets at a few local area assisted living homes over the years too. He is beloved by all the folks who hear his voice and piano tunes. I often attend and let him know how wonderful I feel when I see the smiling faces that are a result of his sharing of his talent!

My son, Nicholas Baker, has been blind from birth. In his early twenties he received an additional diagnosis of Asperger Syndrome, a high functioning form of autism. Nick is an amazing young man. From birth, he has had a wonderful ear for music. He was reaching for the piano keys as an infant and playing full keyboard songs as soon as his small hands could form the chords.

Nick is an accomplished performer and composer. He wrote songs for, performed and recorded his first CD, “Think Positive”, while attending the Washington State School for the Blind in 2002. He has always enjoyed singing and playing piano for others. He was involved in music programs all through his school years and college.

His volunteerism began one summer when his Grandmother came to visit our family. She is a very social lady and quickly discovered the senior center located close enough for her to walk down there for the daily lunch. It was her way of entertaining herself and getting out having lunch with friends her own age. She lamented about that “lovely grand piano… just sitting there in the dining room!” Not one to see things go to waste, she inquired of the staff as to whether they’d appreciate her grandson coming and playing for whomever was eating lunch of an afternoon. The staff was delighted, but stated they had no money in their budget to pay for entertainment on a weekly basis. Nick was so happy to have a regular audience he stated that he didn’t want to be paid, just was happy to be there playing for everyone!

The center director was overwhelmed! She offered Nick a free lunch and said he could bring his CD to sell and even put out a tip jar, if he wanted. A bargain was struck and Nick became a regular feature on Fridays. They even occasionally hire Nick for special events when funds are allocated for entertainment!

Nick rides the DART bus every week back and forth to the center. This allows him to be independent to do his volunteer work and usually collects a few dollars in tips so his fare is funded both ways. The driver and passengers are often treated to Nick’s impromptu concerts as they drive along to their destinations. Nick has been riding DART Para-transit buses now for many years to visit friends and travel to some of his work sites, instead of relying on Mom to be his chauffeur.

Nick’s work as a volunteer entertainer eventually led to paying performances. He is now gainfully employed by many of the Assisted Living facilities in our area to provide music and song for the resident’s monthly celebrations of birthdays, special holidays and even the afternoon “happy hour” music.

Since the release of his first CD, he has added several more and most recently released one called “This One’s For You”. It is dedicated to me, his mom! He was playing at a facility one afternoon when I was serving in the driver mode. He knows I love his arrangement of Misty. Before he began to play he leaned over the piano and said in a stage whisper “Hey Mom, This one’s for you!” I was inspired to suggest that this become the title for his latest CD. “This One’s For You” is a collection of his jazz arrangements of my era’s popular songs like “Misty”.

If ever anyone asks “do you get tired of driving Nick to his gigs or helping him with his growing music and entertainment business?” I just laugh! Where else could I get a job that required me to sit back, relax and listen to my son’s beautiful piano playing and singing for an hour or two? It is definitely one of the perks of having this amazing person in my family!

Just sign me “Nick’s Mom and Number One Fan.”

kathy gail laughing at life

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