I'm a Picker

Once upon a time in a land far away when we had spare time and no kids, Mark and I used to frequent the thrift stores and antique malls. We loved to thumb through old vinyl and all manner of other treasures. Much of the time we left empty handed but when we found that certain something that was priced just right, oh baby it was like winning the lottery.

We have been known to do more than shop at actual stores or garage sales. Mark and I have found the most unbelievable prizes in the garbage. Yep, I said tossed out, thrown away, on the curb garbage. We don't drive around looking for stuff on curbs and we have not done any dumpster diving, but we have taken home other peoples trash. "Ew Gross" you say?!

We don't do it often. In fact it was a decade ago that we had our last big score. Mark and I were living in an apartment building that had a thousand units in Washington D.C. The garbage area was huge to handle so many people. It was also near one of the laundry rooms. On a day that I had stayed home from work to do the wash (playing hookie) we saw a seriously grody (did I just say grody?) but intriguing secretary desk next to the dumpsters. It was covered in a layer of muck and full of junk, including a few old roach carcass shells. We discussed it and agreed to bring it upstairs.

I began cleaning this nasty desk which although it was filthy, it was easy to clean. As I was going through the desk I found old stamps and a letter from the 1940s. I also began cleaning off a small framed picture of a cat and goldfish. It too was so dirty that at first you could barely make out the picture. Once I had it cleaned up I started yelling for Mark to come and see what we had nearly left behind in the garbage. According to the information attached to the back, it was an original film cell from Pinnochio framed by the Courvoisier Gallery (I can't remember what year). The cell of Cleo (the fish) has slipped out of place but the cells themselves are just fine. We aren't sure how much it is worth today but we're guessing a pretty penny. It is still packed away somewhere so I'll post a picture when I can.

The desk was not done revealing its treasures. I found a small jewelry box which contained a silver pill box with Orient design and enamel trees and back ground, a silver broach, a string of pearls (which turned out to be costume pearls), and all number of other pins. We had two pieces appraised, including a carved ivory rose broach which appraised at $350. The pill box appraised at $175.

The greatest treasure, as it turns out, was the desk itself. After cleaning and polishing its dark walnut wood and clawed feet, and brass handles I give you the desk we found next to the dumpster.

a view from our porch

So why this story after a decade has passed? It happened again. Our street has been closed for the past week as they dig it up to replace a water main, so I had to wind my way around nearby streets to find parking. I ended up taking a wrong/right turn onto a cul du sac. At first I was irritated with myself, until I saw it. At the curb was a gorgeous buffet server.

I pulled up to it and got out to take a look. It was in front of a house that had a for sale sign/sold in the yard. I called my mother in law and we agreed that I needed to take it home. Thank goodness for the CRoutan and the stow and go seats. I moved the car seats out of the way and knew I had plenty of room. The owner came out and asked if I needed a hand, to which I said yes as this is a heavy piece. She was surprised that it had sat there for 3 days. They were moving and she didn't want to deal with getting the hinge repaired on the right side door as her husband isn't "handy." It looks antique but she had purchased it new from a furniture store 3-4 years ago for $700. Aside from needing a new screw there are 2 small pen marks. That's it. That's all that is wrong with it. For probably 15 cents and a turn of a screw driver I can fix it myself. If it turns out to be more complicated, Mark's dad works in a cabinet factory and has said he could fix it quite easily when they come out in December for a visit or he can mail us the right piece.

so you have a better idea of the size

So, because putting my valuable breakables in this server would be like letting 2 bulls loose in a china shop, I have to use it for something else until the girls get older. I've decided to make it the worlds fanciest toy cabinet. Not too bad for picking it off the curb.

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The Specials - UK

Have you seen the awesome reality show based in the UK called the Specials? I do not exaggerate when I say you'll laugh, you'll cry you'll be hooked from Episode 1.

from the website

"Carol and Dafydd are Hilly's parents. Hilly always said that she wanted to live with her friends in a house in Brighton. They saw no reason why this shouldn't be possible and so they found a house while Hilly invited her closest friends to move in with her.

Carol & Dafydd's aim is to make sure that Hilly, Sam, Megan, Lucy and Lewis have complete freedom to run their lives the way they want to. So from finding a job to going to college, or going on a date to clubbing until 3am, Hilly's parents and their group of dedicated support workers are on hand to give The Specials all the help they need.

There are 9 regular support workers who, in rotation, provide 24 hour care and support to the housemates. The housemates need help with some of the day‑to‑day activities mainstream people take for granted such as money management, travelling around town or cooking themselves a meal, however they are encouraged to learn to do these things for themselves.

All the staff have been carefully chosen by both Carol and Dafydd and the housemates who were also looking for people they like and can have some fun with!"

To watch the episodes click HERE

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Dream Analysis, a Doozie

I've always been a vivid dreamer. I don't mean daydreams (I do that too). I mean very detailed, complicated dreams in color. I used to be a sleep walker and talker too. My mom would lead me back to bed and tell me the next day about the bizarro conversations we had that I had no recollection of.

I've read a few dream analysis books and find it amusing to try and analyze my own and sometimes close friend's dreams. Some are clearly anxiety or complete nonsense themes but if I think about the content, they have bits and pieces of what I had read, seen, or discussed in recent days. When I dream about my teeth falling out (which happens every so often) I've read that it is a vanity dream. They usually happen when I've started (another) diet, or need to.

The rarest of dreams are the ones that feel completely real. Often they involve a loved one that has died. We have wonderful conversations or just visit without needing spoken words to communicate. Other times these real dreams seem to be more like premonitions (impending death of a loved one, etc.). I don't have these real feeling dreams very often. When I do they usually wake me up shaken or happy, depending on the content. I try and write the details down right away before they slip out of my consciousness.

So, I invite you dream analyzers help me with this doozie I had last night. Mark made an appearance just at the beginning where we returned to an apartment we had left behind (where?, I don't know as it isn't a real place). We had left it fully furnished and full of our nic-nacs and pictures. In the dream I knew them to be mine but none of them are real things that we actually have. It was sort of like being on a different plane of reality. Mark vanished and I found myself in the company of two young men (mid 20s I'd guess). I think one's name was Gary. They talked with me without actually saying words out loud.

The room began to resemble my grandparents home and I learned that I was in the Waiting Place and the two men were my guides. They told me I had died. I had not yet fully crossed over, hence being in the Waiting Place. (wherever that came from I surely don't know). I was alarmed at the news that I was dead and began hoping and shouting to wake up if this were a dream. I did not wake up and my guides calmly and soundlessly restated that I was dead.

I flashed to snap shots of my family and an image of Sophie in particular and became panicked and angry. Yelling that I didn't want to be here and demanding to know how I had died, my guides remained calm. They answered only that it was time to meet God. Was I ready? "Oh heck no, not yet," I said and I shouted even more. "Send me back, send me back! I'm going to miss everything!" Over and over I shouted, they remained calm, and eventually (after an eternity) I woke up.

I have no lingering message of "you better start doing ___ or stop doing ___." Nothing. Just being shaken at the intensity of this very, very real feeling dream.

So, have at it. What the heck was that about?

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Pumpkin Bread

Oh, my first attempt at making pumpkin bread (shakes head). Sometimes I have an all consuming need to create, to make something. Sometimes it is a crafty project or photography. Othertimes it is a recipe. Some turn out better than others but the idea is to try and have fun doing it.

I'm not a real baker, so any excuse to use my sifter gives me the giggles. I get to pretend that I'm a mom-who-bakes and that makes me feel good.

My recipe, found HERE called for 2 pans, but my batter fit into 3. I worried that the temperature seemed low so I consulted my pals on fb. When the timer dinged, I did the following; see if the top is wet, check if it is springy, test with a toothpick (repeat every few minutes). Thankfully my girl Maureen and baby Samuel understood that this was a great excuse for us to stop cleaning and doing laundry and they headed over for a taste test.

After just over an hour I pulled them out. They looked amazing. I didn't wait for them to cool before lopping off a chunk and adding a pat of butter that melted on contact with this pumpkin, cinnamon, nutmeg yumminess.

Unfortunately the temp was too low or I didn't leave them in long enough. As they cooled 2 of 3 loaves fell in the middle revealing a gooey delicious layer. Some might consider this a failed experiment, but then you didn't taste this little bit of autumn heaven. (I won't tell you that we ate almost a whole loaf while watching a chick flick and doing nothing more than laying around the living room, ahem!)

Next time I'm adding walnuts. Wait. Did you hear that? The pumpkin bread is calling my name!

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Walking with My Buddies

So, ya. I've had a slide show of our Buddy Walk(s) this year ready for a while now. (what is a Buddy Walk? click HERE) I've been putting off posting it until I had time to write about it. Frankly, 31 for 21 is exhausting and so for today I'm just posting the basic details.

We had our Buddy Walk at Mark's university on October 3rd. It was huge and lovely. I was supposed to help with raffles and even went to a few meetings but they let me off the hook, just for this year. What's that? Freedom to just BE at a Buddy Walk!? Best.gift.ever.

Team Sophie arrived in our gear and I swore I wasn't going to cry this year. However, when they have a football team lining the entrance cheering "Go Team Sophie" I challenge you not to shed a tear. Throughout the walk they had teams of cheerleaders and volunteers cheering us on and it was really, really touching. The most touching part, however, was having our new friends Maureen, Ras, and baby Samuel represent Team Sophie. Having them there, especially as we didn't have family here this year was perfect.

Then the next week Sophie and I walked with our new friends Grace and her mom Ann in a neighboring county's Buddy Walk. I had gone to a parent's social when we first moved out here and was pleasantly surprised at how many cool people I already knew. I even got to meet a woman in person from the T21 Club in Philly that I had only spoke with on the phone prior to moving out here.

Both were gorgeous fall days. Both had me in tears multiple times. Make no mistake. They were happy tears and if I had to describe the Buddy Walk experience in just one word, I would have to say "community." It is a place to celebrate our families with loved ones who have Down syndrome in a place where acceptance and inclusion are the rule.

Not everybody on their acceptance journey was ready for a Buddy Walk this year. I have certainly come a long way from our first Buddy Walk, read HERE If you are a parent to a child with Ds and you're not ready to go, be kind to yourself and let it go. Love your child. That's more than enough.

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Jeez, guess I had more to ramble on about than I thought, ha!

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The Beginning, Part 5

continued from HERE. If you are new, DO NOT start with this post. Go back to the beginning of the Beginning, please. Click HERE.

On my acceptance journey I danced briefly with Denial (which didn't last long because we had an amnio). Anger (oh I was good at that). Bargaining (not so much because I wasn't on speaking terms with God). Depression moved in and made itself quite comfortable. Depression was the roommate that lived on my couch and didn't pay rent but ate all of my food and left hair in my sink.

In the beginning it felt that my heart was literally cracked with all the losses and limits I had put on my unborn daughter. I was unable to separate my thoughts of Sophie from her disability. I focused on the future and what she wouldn't be able to do. My pain was largely self-centered as I believed that I had to let go of my dreams of teaching her how to ride a bike or taking her to ballet class. There would be no school dances or overhearing her giggle with girlfriends about her first kiss. I would not get to stroke her hair and tell her how beautiful she looked on her wedding day. I would not have grand babies to snuggle with all because of those two words, Down syndrome. (oh how wrong I was about so many, many things)

You cannot imagine the guilt that I felt for not being able to protect Sophie from her disability and duodenal atresia and for actually causing all of this. Surely it was my fault because of some awful thing I may have done in my past or partying too much in my earlier years. enter EGO Despite all the literature telling me that this is not true, nothing could convince me of it. Click HERE for more information on causes of Ds. She hadn't even been born yet and in my mind I had utterly and completely failed her. In a nod to Mr. Burns (the Simpsons) I call this period, wallowing in my own crapulence.

I have heard of others who spend very little time at all grieving when they learn of their child's diagnosis, whether prenatally or after the baby is born. All of us have our own acceptance journeys and it is not for me to question those who say that they had one night/week/month of tears and then moved on. I've worked long and hard not to let other's journeys make me feel even more guilt for my own long and painful path towards acceptance. If you had asked me before having Sophia if I thought I was a good person, I would have answered yes, and I was. It came to a surprise to me when I grieved so deeply.

I remember when I was hoping to have a baby and then later when I was pregnant I began to see bulging bellies everywhere. Certainly, I thought, there had not been this many pregnant women around me before this. Of course they had always been there. It was just that my eyes had been opened to them. The same thing happened with people with Down syndrome. Never in my whole life had I seen so many people with Ds as I did after we received Sophie's prenatal diagnosis (up until then at least).

I recall picking up lunch and noticing a young woman with Ds behind the counter who had a Job Coach with her. Not wanting to stare but having a deep need to study her almond shaped eyes as a way to form a connection to my daughter, I stole as many glances as I could without making a scene. My heart wanted to ask her if she had a happy life, if she liked her job, if she had friends. Each time I saw someone with Ds I wanted to drink them in. I wanted to see their hands and trace the transverse palmar crease called the simian line. This is the singular line across the palm that many people with Ds have on either one or both hands.

I had not yet laid eyes on my daughter but she was already opening up a whole new world to me. Stitch by stitch my tiny teacher was mending my heart. She was healing me and I didn't even know I was broken.

to be continued...

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Reader Giveaway Winner!

In typical Sophie fashion, drawing a winner's name out of a hat was done with her own style and flare. Hey, it's not the lottery and I think she did great, plus it was entertaining. We had one entry for each question that you all answered by either leaving a comment or emailing your answers. Thank you all so much for being here, for reading, for taking the time out of your busy day to leave a comment to let me know you're here.

Congratulations to our winner! I will get to the Post Office and send your prize to you this week.

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