After interminable waiting for an MRI and then for the reading of the MRI, we got the news yesterday that LightGirl does indeed have a tear on the anterior horn of the tibial surface of the left meniscus.  Uhhhh … okay.  So, now we go see an orthopedist, right?  Right.  Her doctor gave me the names of three practices to call and the advice to call all of them and take the first available appointment.  Okay.  Where do I find the phone numbers?  In the phone book.  Huh?  The phone book?  That antique?

As chance would have it the first office had a cancellation for 1 p.m. this afternoon.  Alrighty then.  Dr. Gabriel Gluck.  I recognized the name because I see his office sign every time I leave my place of exercise and think that his name is unfortunate.  He has had a practice next to the hospital for as long as I can remember, because I’ve always wondered about his name.

When we appeared for her appointment the waiting room was empty.  She was wearing one of her many hockey t-shirts … this one happened to have the 2006 Stanley Cup champions on it.  Some minutes later another patient arrived; a 20’s-ish man and his tiny daughter … who was adorable and outgoing with her tiny pink Crocs on and carrying a bright orange balloon.  She started charming everyone in the place including LightGirl and I.  Her dad mentioned that he wouldn’t hold it against LightGirl for liking the ‘Canes, but he was a Canadiens fan as he was from Canada.  And so we began chatting about hockey and why LightGirl was even here, etc.  We were happy to discover that Dr. Gluck was originally Canadian!  Originally a hockey player!  And loves to treat hockey players.  Hah!!!  What serendipity.  Upon further conversation we also discovered that TinyCrockCharmer had been named for a hockey player and her father is a youth pastor at a local church.  It was a lovely visit to the doctor’s office and we hadn’t even seen the doctor yet.

Upon a thorough examination which included more x-rays done right there at the office, we were pleased to discover that LightGirl will NOT need surgery for this.  In fact, as it turns out, the meniscus tear is not the culprit at all.  She has hyper-mobile ligaments and her knee cap (patella) had become unstable because of all the activity during her hockey camp.  This caused a downward cycle of pain and instability between her quadricep and patella that continued until she couldn’t use her knee because her quad became increasingly weak which caused further instability, etc.  So, she needs physical therapy to rebuild the quad and stabilize the patella.  With some patience and persistence she should be back on the ice in about six weeks.  Yay for a good sports med doctor … from Canada who likes hockey players 😀

It was … all in all … a good afternoon.

The seventh and last Harry Potter book (Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows) is coming out on Saturday. We’ve preordered a copy from amazon.com. LightGirl was also invited to a book party at an independent book store in Arlington with a friend on Friday night … she’ll get a copy then. We’ll have TWO copies in our house. This will be good since three of us will be vying for reading rights at once. Questions abound … is Snape really evil? Who will die … Voldemort? Harry? Neville? Someone we’ve not thought of yet? Is Dumbledore really dead?

There is a piece of me which doesn’t want to read the last book. A part of me which doesn’t want the story to end. I’m not entirely certain I want the answers to those questions. I like living with the not knowing. Come what may, Saturday is very likely to come and with it a special delivery of our book. I will read the book and thus, the mystery and the story will come to an end. It will be sad in a way.

In anticipation of the day, I found this on-line quiz … thanks to Sally at Eternal Echoes. It came as no surprise at all that I’m Hermione, since that’s who I’ve always felt the most resonance with.

Which HP Kid Are You?

Last Thursday night was sort of our last hurrah in Vermont.  LightHusband met up with his sister, her children, their parents and LightBoy at a baseball game.  LightGirl and I went to dinner and a movie.  LightGirl has no patience for baseball games at the best of times, and this was not the best of times.  Just thinking about it made her miss hockey and her team and skating and made her a little bit weepy and scared about her knee injury.

We were running late, so we dove into Pizza Hut for dinner.  We made an impassioned plea to our waitress that we needed to catch a movie … could our dinner be hurried at all.  Certainly, she smiled at us.   But the pace of the restaurant changed not a whit.  LightGirl’s pasta and marinara sauce seemed to have been made from homegrown tomatoes … on the vine … grown while we waited as time elastic stretched to eternity.  We tried to enjoy conversation and did at first, but the movie time loomed larger and larger on our horizon.  Dinner came and LightGirl bargained with me that the movie had already started, we shouldn’t bother those already there by walking in late.  My version was someone always comes in late … it would just be us this time.  We hadn’t missed that much … maybe just the previews.  Off we went to the theatre.

We walked into a mysteriously empty lobby and I said, “Two for Evan Almighty, please.”  The girl looked at me and then looked over her shoulder to the boy behind her and said, “I don’t know … can we still do that?”  Which took me aback for a moment.  The young man looked at me (I was looking very puzzled at the exchange) and said (into his walkie-talkie), “Is it too late to start Evan Almighty in 5?”  and I realized … we were the only people there for that movie!!!  We had the theater to ourselves.  Yes, we were late, but we were the only ones.  What a treat.  They ran it for us anyway.  Just us two in the whole theater … all by ourselves.  What fun.

Evan Almighty is a real treat itself.  I was a little askance about it after it’s predecessor, Bruce Almighty.  But this movie is gentle and fun and for those of us who believe in living our lives a bit differently so that we can express the love of the Creator to all of creation, it has a wonderful message.  Morgan Freeman is once again outstanding as God.  LightGirl remarked that if God is really like “that guy in the movie.  I could talk to him.  I haven’t had much to say to God for a while now.  But I could talk to that guy.  Do you think God is like that guy?”  I told her that I thought God certainly had a lot of those characteristics … that if she wanted to imagine that God was like that guy, there wasn’t anything wrong with it.  I think I liked the movie so much because the theme that ran all throughout it was that God loves His people and invites them to participate in His mission with Him.  What a great way to spend an afternoon or evening … being reminded of that wonderous truth.

… so LightHusband created himself and I am pleased to introduce:

Reginald Bean:

Then I got a little silly in the head and created the LightChildren. I’d let them create themselves, but they are with their grandparents and don’t have internet access. So they’re stuck with what their horrid old mother did. This is why we don’t have a college fund … we have a psychiatric fund for them. So here are Rosalie and Scooter Barnaby-Bean:

The past couple of days have been hectic. Saturday saw the return of the GrandPea to camp and an unanticipated visit to an Urgent Care clinic for LightGirl. It seems that she may have torn her meniscus while at hockey camp last week. She’s on crutches now and we’re wending our way through the medical system to see how we should best proceed. Sunday began with a family breakfast then packing, sorting laundry and good-byes. Good-bye to GreatPea (my aunt), LightMom and GrandPea, as LightChildren were off to a week with their other grandparents. LightHusband and I are back at camp. And peace. And quiet. And phone calls to doctors. And just a little bit of worry.

LightMom and I went to a quilt exhibit together.  She loves to look at quilts almost as much as I do.  The difference being that I like to also make them.  We saw these quilts at the Shelburne Museum.  The exhibit was called:  Something Pertaining to God:  The Patchwork Art of Rosie Lee Tompkins.  Rosie Lee (not her real name, she took a pseudonym so she wouldn’t become too proud) said she would think of something important when she pieced, you know something pertaining to God … I really liked that.  I think about those things when I’m piecing and quilting too.  If I’m making a quilt for someone specifically, I pray for that person or their family.  Or I weave thoughts and dreams for them into the quilt.  This is likely not unique to me and/or Rosie.  I think that many quilters weave hopes and dreams into their quilts.  I liked the way that Rosie put it “… something pertaining to God.”

Rosie’s voice is tied up in her quilts (and quilted book pouches … she made some to match the quilts).  She died a couple of years ago.  I wish her voice was verbal instead of fabric.  I have no doubt she has some wonderful earthy wisdom to pass on.  I’ll bet it’s colorful and interesting too … told with a twist.  Born and raised in Arkansas, then she raised a family of five in California.  I’m certain she had stories to tell.  What a treat it would have been to sit quietly, stitching and listening as she sewed and talked … just to hear her voice and learn her technique.

I have sat and stitched with other quilters; learned their techniques, talked with them, cried with them, shared secrets with them.  I’ve learned over the years which voices to listen to.  Which have knowledge that I can profit from and which are fun to chat with, and which will give me support.  Who to call for help with applique or help with quilting or help with tricky set-in seams.  I’ve learned how to sort out the voices … who will tell me what is tried and true.

I’ve been thinking about that today.  I’ve been thinking about voices and who I listen to.  And who I don’t.  And why.  I’ve come to love the internet.  It’s a great place.  You can find anything there that you want.  For instance, I scared myself skinny (well … almost) about LightGirl’s meniscus tear this morning.  You have to be selective about which voices you’re going to listen to out on the big wide internet.  There are voices out there which will scare you and cause you pain.  I’ve found over time that when I keep going back to those voices (getting scared and/or hurt), that the authors are not the inflictors of the fear and/or pain … I am.  The site is static.  I am going to it.  If I keep going to it and getting scared, then I need to stop.  So I do.  As in this morning, I stopped looking for information when it was causing me too much worry about LightGirl’s condition.  I’ll wait til we get a definitive diagnosis from a real doctor, instead of the dr. dolittle on the internet.  I love the fact that I have control over who I listen to and when and why.  So that if I’m in pain or fear I can stop listening to that voice.   And listen instead to the voices of quilts or quilters … or even, the Holy Spirit.

The other day I unwittingly wrote a post about the significance of 07.07.07 to the world … or not. Then I was browsing through my blog (her)story and came to the rather startling discovery that whether or not this date is significant to God, life the universe or anything … it’s significant to me. It’s my blog anniversary. My second. So, happy 2 to me.

I’m in a different place this year, than I have been the last two years. Both in physical and emotional space. The last two years as I wrote here, I was back in steamy Virginia anticipating my trip north to Vermont. To sit on the porch and hear the waters of Lake Champlain lap up on the shore. Today, I’m on the porch listening as I write. It is a balm to my weary soul.

I do so love it up here. My mother and my favorite aunt have been here too. We’ve been out gallivanting together. We did lunch and shopping (a first for all three of us together). We worked out together, found a quilt store together, jaunted off down curvy, hilly dirt roads to find strawberries together … all with me driving (and my mother directing 😉 she knows the roads better after all). It’s been a grand adventure. And I’ve been soaking it up to remember down the years.

We’ve been retelling the old family stories from when I was a child and from their childhoods as well. Stories I’ve heard at least a million times, but now I’ve heard them a million and one. Funny, though, there are one or two I haven’t heard and this time I’ve told a few of my own from my childhood that LightMom hadn’t heard, or added my own perspective to a well known story that brought gales of laughter, or in one case a sense of relief. It made me think of this quote (which I first saw over at Mak’s place, but later read myself in Relevant magazine, by the grande damme herself, Anne Lamotte):

One of my deepest beliefs is that every single thing that happens to you is yours. You get to own it, and you don’t have to keep others’ awful secrets for them anymore. You don’t have to be such a good son or such a good daughter that you can redeem their lives…If people don’t want you to write about them, then they should behave a lot better. It’s amazing when someone tells the truth.

All of which brings me back to my blog anniversary. The italics in the above quote are mine. I added them because I wanted my readers to pay attention to those words. Which, in the end, is why any writer adds italics to a bit of writing.

This is also a good day, three days after the celebration of the anniversary of our national Declaration of Independence, for me to celebrate my own declaration of independence. In a very small way. So here it is …

This blog is mine. It’s all mine. I write what I think about. What I write is public. I never, no never, write with the intention to hurt or threaten any one. But, as you might recall from my post last night, the truth is only threatening to those who wish manipulate it for their own ends. If anyone who reads this blog doesn’t like what they read, they can not read it … they can move along to another blog or another website.
But … if people don’t want you to write about them, then they should behave a lot better. I’m just sayin’ … that’s all.

Tuesday we spent the day on an island in the middle of Lake Champlain. We were neither here, nor there. Not in Vermont. Not in New York. We were in international waters! Well … not exactly. We were in sub-national waters. Or something. But we were on an island that was not subject to any state law. Very interesting. We didn’t break any laws, so it didn’t matter.

We spent the day with LightHusband’s sister, her husband and their blended family. There was fishing, swimming, hot dogs, hotdogs, wet dogs, a temporary aquarium for the caught fish, an adventure on a tube, and sundry other activities … all law abiding.

I got to have several really good conversations with LightSIL. We re-connected again. It was good. But something she said has been rattling around in my head for the last couple of days. We were talking about some of her interactions with her first husband and working out custody arrangements. Things get dicey sometimes. She mentioned some boundaries she needed to set that were entirely for her children’s safety.  Her ex-husband is a practicing alcoholic and the court has set some stringent standards for his behavior that she needed to remind him of.  She said, “I didn’t want to threaten him, but he needed to remember what would happen.”  I reminded her that she wasn’t threatening him; if he broke the standards set by the court, it was the court which would take action against him, not her.

I’ve really been thinking about that interchange for the last couple of days.  I’ve been thinking about how truth appears to people.  Some people see truth and it’s clean and clear for them.  They welcome it into their lives as a measure with which to measure themselves against.  They face truth without fear.  Others, see truth walking toward them and they pull out the fun house mirrors in an attempt to bend it and manipulate it and make it into something they can control for their own purposes.  If they cannot bend the truth, if they are faced with a truth they cannot manipulate, then they manipulate those around them.  But in the end I’ve come to realize that the only people who are threatened by the truth are those who want to manipulate it for their own ends.

I am, at long last, awash in the porch. I have my coffee beside me, the wind is rustling the trees, there is a robin’s nest in the rafters above and my beloved hummingbirds are dive bombing me to protect their feeder from my nefarious plans. LightGirl has gone to find her friends, LightBoy has gone to find his. Yesterday was a tedious drive broken by a hockey game and reunion with LightGirl at Penn State.

She was full of stories, escapades, and laments. The laments were about the food and the hard work. The stories and escapades were about the friends and the boys. She told us about the wonders of the pasta bar at the cafeteria. She had, apparently, sampled it for 2 out of 3 meals a day. This caused me to ask, “Did a vegetable pass your lips at least one time this week?” “Oh, yes, Mom.” said earnestly, “One day they had a vegetable sauce. … (long, loud guffaws from her parents) … and I ate fruit with every meal.” oh … I am now reassured.

After a long period of time during which I gritted my teeth and ignored the sounds which pass for music coming out of the speakers, I could not bear it any more. It was the post dinner hour and my last nerve had been officially reached … for quite some time. So I recieved control of the iPod. The wailing and gnashing of teeth from the back seat was hilarious. “Not U2, Mom … please no U2. Oh no … she’s going to put on celtic music, I just know it.” So I found it amusing that when Minutes to Midnight (Linkin Park’s latest album) came on, neither of them could identify it.

It has become the album of choice for our whole family to listen to. It’s somewhat amazing to me that we all like it. It’s just soft enough for me, and hard enough for the kids. It’s got enough musical interest for LightHusband. The lyrics of the songs are pretty intense. I’m gaining some respect for this band. But I think their song, What I’ve Done, is perhaps my favorite. I’ve heard that it’s their biggest hit. I wouldn’t know about that since I’ve only sort of discovered them lately. But the lyrics are intense and speak of a longing for forgiveness and redemption that seem to be universal. Then I found the video and was knocked off my feet. It is … intense, and beautiful and rich … it is a must see. So I’m posting it here. Enjoy!

Your roads suck.  Closing one lane of every highway in the state is just frustrating and doesn’t fool anyone.  We all know you aren’t fixing anything other than a few construction company bank accounts.

If you really were repairing your roads every summer as you seem to be doing with the endless lane closings, your roads wouldn’t suck quite so much.  But … they do.  And it takes for-fraking-ever to get anywhere in the state of Pennsylvania during the summer months.

Your so-called road work added 3 hours to a 6 hour trip today.  I am less than thrilled.

That’s the new favorite line in the LightHouse. It comes from the latest in the Shrek series. Shrek the Third. This movie lives up to the series potential. We saw it as part of the Father’s Day package given to LightHusband. I’ll spare you the details so that you’ll have something to enjoy when you see it. BUT … there is a scene in which Shrek, Donkey, and Puss In Boots visit a high school. As Shrek passed a snotty high school babe type, she looked at him, turned her nose in the air and said, “Like … ewweth.” and we all fell out of our chairs laughing. It’s stayed with us and become our familial exclamation of grossness, badness, horribleness, etc.

So it was last night when LightHusband unveiled the bad news. The horrible news. The Washington Capitals are changing their jerseys. They are reverting from the very cool black, blue and gold of now, to the oh-so-not-cool red, white, and blue of the 1970’s. This news was met with a chorus of, “Like … Ewweth!!!” around the table … again and again and again.

But see for yourself. It really is … well … horrible.