Ahoy There!:

Our tour guide in front of the HMS Bounty

Continuing on our nautical theme, one week after our tour of LST 325 and after hearing about an actual War of 1812 ship on Lake Erie I bullied everyone into the car at an ungodly (for Saturday) hour and trekked northward. Actually everyone was kind of eager to go which disappointed me for some reason. The drive up to Erie PA was a lot shorter than we'd thought it would be, and nearly on schedule (normally just wishful thinking around us) we were at the Erie Maritime Museum... along with half of NW Pennsylvania and a sprinkling of NE Ohio. It seems that not only was the Niagara there (it's a training ship and not always home) but seven other ships were there to be toured and ogled at. The Tall Ships Erie festival was on and there was even a Captain Jack Sparrow look-alike (sort of). But the real movie stars were the ships. There was the actual ship used in the making of the Marlon Brando version of 'Mutiny on the Bounty', and the Flagship Niagara itself was used in 'Pirates of the Caribbean, Curse of the Black Pearl' as the HMS Interceptor. You know, the one Depp and Bloom stole after they faked stealing the other one..... or something like that. There were way WAY too many people there for us to actually consider touring one of the boats, but that didn't seem to matter to anyone. Just seeing that many 'Tall Ships' was experience enough. So we wandered the dock and Dude was loving it, I didn't hear GameStop mentioned all afternoon, instead I kept hearing pirate references and Spongebob Squarepants quotes. I love the kid, but there are only so many crabbypatty references that one man should be subject to, don't you think?  Oh, by the way, the Bounty is for sale (has been for years) and not only is it a working ship, but the cannon are real so it's also a handy platform to conquer any small island you might come across. (just something to keep in mind for that 401K money)



Flagship Niagara





After we'd walked around all of the ships we went inside to tour the museum and almost walked right into a rigging demonstration on a full sized yard and mast in the museum. The demonstrators were all in period (1812) costumes, and they made a lot of nautical noise for a while. None of which I really understood, and I've sailed. Dave seemed fascinated by the Fresnel lens demonstration. We finally decided that we weren't becoming line-slugs and there was no way they were going to let me make Dude walk the plank, so we packed up and wandered off to new adventures.

When you live in a new area there always seems to be a place

that everyone is shocked that you haven't been to yet. (in Orlando there were a bunch) I mean people here were genuinely surprised that I continued to be able to walk, talk and breath air, let alone show my face in public since I hadn't been to Presque Isle.  Presque Isle isn't actually an island, in French the word for peninsula is presque-isle , or literally, almost an island. (thus endeth the lesson). Now let me tell you something: Lake Erie is HUGE. For one reason or another I've been through every state in the lower 48 seen both oceans and the Gulf more times than I could count and I'm still stunned every time I stand on the shore of one of the Lakes. Erie is almost the smallest of the bunch but still 

Calm down Dad, there's a guard rail

awesomely large. Dave, of course is fascinated by open water, it moves by itself, and it's always changing. There's also the element that he gets to make his dad paranoid about him leaning over the water. I'm sure that's the funnest part. The dock on the bay passage was nicely guard-railed, but the walk out to the Point Lighthouse was frighteningly open. Besides which, there was a brisk wind blowing and David is a pretty skinny kid. But he managed not to get blown into the water or become a kid-kite and the view was spectacular. We continued around the road (there's only one road) to the other lighthouse on the 'Isle' and that's pretty much where the problems started. You see it's not only a working lighthouse, but a park residence. So the only way to actually see the house is to walk several hundred yards down and then along the beach to an opening between the dunes. Dave had been pretty cool up to this point, he's got problems with his legs so extended periods of walking aren't the easiest things in the world for him so a trip across the sand was definitely not among his favorite things in the world at that moment. Besides which, I never let him get close enough to the water to fear his dropping in. But the real problems came when I'd taken my pictures and it was time to walk back to the car. I think he was prepared to camp out on the beach, or move into the lighthouse at that point rather than walk back through the sand. I'm almost certain I heard "So this is what a chick feels like" somewhere in there. But by the time we'd gotten home all had been forgiven. Mostly through the application of bread sticks and the Endless Pasta Bowl at the Olive Garden on the way back.



You mean I've got to walk back?

 

The P-Day Invasion:

This is Dave's patented posed-picture goofy face.

Dude loves going into Pittsburgh. I should have said 'Dude LOVES going into Pittsburgh! Just about every time we're on the highway and there's a sign that says 'Pittsburgh-? miles' he leans forward in his seat and yells, 'Pittsburgh! 7 miles!' or 'Pittsburgh exit only' or just, 'Going to the Pittsburgh!'. I actually think it's because we normally go through tunnels when we go to or through Pitt, because we don't actually go into the city very often, and it's almost never to do something that Dave likes to do (There are no GameStops or Wendy's in Downtown Pitt), but the other week we went into Da'Burgh twice because we'd heard that the city was being invaded by, of all things, WWII. It was also, incidentally being invaded by the NFL in the persons of the Carolina Panthers, but it was pre-season and we didn't much care.

What we cared about was the LST 325, normally based in Evansville Indiana as a floating museum, but recently driven upriver to Pittsburgh for a week. This 327 ft long 50ft wide (I looked it up) ship sailed up the Ohio River. They had tracking on the ship during the transit, and we (Raine, Dude, and I) took off at dusk on Wed night when it looked like it was in the Stratton OH locks, thinking that there would be no way to hide a 300 foot long boat in a 900 foot wide river, but we were wrong. There are these things called trees, and it seems that quite a few of them grow along waterways (go figure) mostly right between the highway and the river. Dave was enthusiastically helping from the backseat. I don't think he actually looked for the boat, but he was right there the whole time to tell us that we hadn't found it. The next day (Thursday) we were pretty sure we couldn't miss the ship as it had tied up in Pittsburgh. By this time Dave was more than enthusiastic about going to see 'the boat'. Mostly, I think because we'd already turned off his game and put his shoes on, so it was obvious we weren't going to leave him at home.

Alayna is taking pictures for a Senior Project so all four of us jumped in the car and trooped to Pittsburgh with our DPS (Dude Positioning System) in full working order and volume. (still can't find the mute button) Since the Stillers (Steelers) were playing we had to park on the wrong side of the river and walk to the ship. We walked along the river, committed a minor misdemeanor by climbing around a fence, walking along the edge of a closed park, then around another fence to get to the walkway over the river. (the next walkway was 1/2 mile back the way we'd come) Unfortunately for my blood pressure, Dave was fascinated by the water. There's no railing on the river walk because people actually tie up their boats along both sides of the river. So I was forever catching Dave sneaking around behind me to walk over to the edge to look down at the water 2 feet below. Not wanting him to fall in (after all I didn't want to get my camera wet) I'd grab his arm and drag him to my other side. I think he thought this was a cool game. Or he just likes seeing me aggravated, he is my son after all.

So as we're headed back to the car, there Alayna and I are, clicking away, taking more pictures than a busload of Japanese tourists, and Raine is dropping further and further behind. Nothing unusual there, there's no real reason for her to keep up. Usually we bolt ahead, and while we're focusing and framing or whatever the hell photo-bugs do, Raine will catch up and pass us. The 'catching up' part happened with less and less frequency as we got closer to the car. At the same time I notice that Dave had developed some strange gravity disease. I'm pretty sure he did anyway, because the further we went along the more I felt like I was towing him. Through oatmeal. (perhaps there's some strange oatmeal universe he partially phases into, I don't know) Raine and Dave were acting like they were on a Trail of Tears/Bataan Death March combo pack and Layna and I just looked at each other and shrugged. We couldn't figure it out. I totalled it up in my head later and I figure we walked something like 6 miles in the two hours we were there. That could be either a Trail of Tears or a Death March. Not both. They're just... wussies I guess.

On a strange, but kinda cool Western Keystone note: Since Heinz Field sits right next to the Ohio/Alegheny river(s) I ran into a whole new type of tailgater. Or nautical nutjobs, as I like to call them. This friendly but fanatic group ties up, sometimes three or four houseboats deep, for about half a mile along the bank of the North Shore side of the river. They tie up their large (insert incredibly expensive) houseboats at the walk side, fire up their gennies, plug in their 42 inch plasma tv's (I counted 4) and watch the game.... on tv... 600 yards away from the stadium. Then, all boozed up they play bumper-boats all the way back to their home berth. The only guy I actually sort of understood was the one that was riding up and down the walkway on a little cooler/scooter. I so wanted to push him in the river and swipe that thing, but there were too many people around.... and Raine told me I couldn't have one unless she got to ride it back to the car... oh well, better luck next time.

Raine, Dave and I did go back Saturday when the boat was open. We walked all around the boat after waiting in a line that was twice as long as the (327 foot long) ship, past the really creepy statue of Mr. Rogers (he's from here, did you know that?). It was kind of a 'here the crap is, keep the line moving' kind of a tour, but it was actually pretty cool walking around just about the only working reminder of D-Day. There were 55 gallon drums instead of depth charges, and Raine did bug the guy in the crew galley trying to get him to serve us lunch (it was a long line), but all in all it was fun. The crew were knowledgeable and friendly, some of the local historical nuts brought their own vehicles (to assist in the invasion), one guy had just finished restoring a Vietnam-era PBR (Patrol Boat-River) the day before the LST passed and joined the trip. And once I fed everyone there were no (further) complaints.

Handicapped Parking:

There are times when you wonder if Dave lives in the same world as the rest of us. He has a tendency to babble irrelevant game-dialogue for hours at a time, he rarely pays any attention to where he is, what he's doing or anyone around him, he walks over, into or bounces off of anything or anyone in his path and he can't ever be counted on to get out of the way of anything coming at him, no matter what the size or speed.

Then there are times when he's more 'right here' than I am. We went to Giant Eagle (grocery store) the other day to get some babysitting cash (or ransom money, as I like to call it) for Alayna, who's been helping out quite a bit this summer. Once that was done, and having no reason to stalk 'Layne in the deodorant aisle, Dave and I wandered through the store backwards (ie: from Dairy to Produce instead of the other way around) and ended up walking toward the entry instead of the exit. As we approached the door Dude was pulling on my arm and telling me 'No exit!, You're going the wrong way!'. I, of course, paying no attention, was thinking about what to cook for dinner, and even further distracted by the cunningly placed Steelers/Penguins merchandise display by the tiny flower shop. I looked down at Dave trying to figure out what the problem was and actually walked within about 2 feet of the door before it occurred to me that it wasn't opening. Dave pulled me around the corner, saying, 'No exit. You're going out the wrong door.' and then as we turned the corner, ' Exit door! There it is!'. You've got to find the exit door.', with various repeats and revisions as we made the exit and walked toward the parking lot. I looked at Dave and said, ' You've got to watch me every minute don't you?'. To which he replied, 'Yeah, it's a problem.'. Which I thought was probably true and fairly ironic.

I suppose there are some people who might be embarrassed at being corrected by their (supposedly) handicapped offspring in a social setting, but I'm not one of them. Although we were getting some odd looks from people who witnessed the skinny little autistic boy leading the large, 'typical' man in a kind of reverse 'Of Mice and Men' fashion instructing him of the proper grocery store exit procedure, it didn't touch either one of us. We got into the car and drove home. Dave, once again in his world of Terminators, Superheroes, and things I'm not even sure what they are, and me, his bodyguard/chef/chauffeur and watchdog, each back in their proper roles and functions.

Raine has been brought up short by Dude on occasion as well. The other day we were getting ready to leave on some sort of hair emergency expedition. Dave takes about 30 seconds to put his shoes on and gets a bit impatient with us dragging our feet when it's obviously time to leave (which is something he didn't want to do in the first place) so I sometimes have him find my shoes or get a soda, or something to keep him busy while we're finishing up our preparations. This time it was shoes. Dude had already put on his black sneakers and had mistaken his white shoes for mine. Upon finding the proper footwear he threw them in the general direction of my feet and then impatiently sat on the love seat to wait for the old folks (us) to actually start moving toward the door. Raine walked into the room, looked at his feet and asked, " Didn't you have white shoes?". Not even looking at her, Dave immediately shot one hand out, pointed at my shoes (still without feet in them) and said in a disgusted tone, "Dad's shoes are right there!". He looked up at Raine and said, " Dad's got to get the shoes on and get going!" And so, with our marching orders in hand, that's exactly what we did. It's a good thing (sometimes) we've got Dude to keep us in line..... uh..... yeah....

Dave has a new Health Aid (I'm not sure why they're called that) this summer, her name is Kate. They seem to be getting along rather well, but she may be getting the idea that the only reason Dude likes her is because when she's here I'm not.

On a normal day David will spend most of his time sequestered with heroes, villans, mutants and occasionally come downstairs to watch a movie with me (when I show the good taste of picking something he likes). But with Kate he gets to pick the movie and evidently is downstairs sucking up the action on the big screen all the time. Somehow, over Alien or Spaceballs blaring through the speakers, he hears my car pull up to the house, (I evidently don't have to worry about my son's hearing) confirms it's me by peering through the decorated front door window, (or worry about his eyesight) and by the time I get into the house, all I hear of him is the clatter as he gallops up the steps to go back to his games. This bothered me just a little but I was coping pretty well until a certain recent event.

Normally when I get home from work, I come in to the house through the side door, to the basement landing, take off my work boots, then enter the living area of the house through the kitchen door. Now, high on the inside of the door there's a safety lock left over from when Dave was younger and we had to worry about him wandering out the door and down the street. This evidently distressed the neighbors who were unused to eight year old autistic children dropping in unnanounced. My distress was for another reason all together. Anyway, the other day I came home, took off my boots, walked up the three steps to the kitchen door, and almost became a Three Stooges skit by rapping my skull off the unexpectedly immovable door. This trauma must have led to the brain damage that caused me to forget the keys (still in my hand) that I could have easily used to open the front door, walk up stairs and dispatch my smart-aleck son. So I stood on the steps, knocking politely on my own (interior) door with one hand, and rubbed my cranium with the other. It took a couple of moments for Kate to realise what was happening, and a few more moments for her to figure out a: where the knocking was coming from, and b: how to unlock the door. When I asked her who had locked the damned thing, she said, 'I was wondering why Dave went to the kitchen earlier.'

Fortunately for Dude by the time I'd signed her time sheet and seen her to the door, the brain damage I'd suffered had resulted in temporary amnesia. It must have because I didn't immediately rush up the stairs and pummel him.

Kennywood's Open:

Although around Pittsburgh that's actually a phrase meaning 'your fly is open', this post has nothing to do with pants... or at least not very much. Last weekend it was time once again for my company's annual picnic to Kennywood. (which still doesn't have anything to do with Kenny Rodgers). Unlike last years trip, We woke up earlier, actually left (almost) on time, and made it to the park with (no matter what Raine says) a minimum of fuss, and in less than 2 hours this time. It turns out that taking the recommended rout to KW is NOT a plot by the local government to direct traffic through Homestead to drum up some local business, but actually a shorter ride to the park. Let's not say 'easy' or 'quick' because it's neither one of those, but we did make it to the park 45 minutes faster than we did last year. Also, the fact that the temperature was 10 degrees cooler this year also cut down the whining (a bit). Before I go further I have to comment on something: This year Raine's daughter Alayna and her friend Nettie decided to come to the park with us. Not wanting to be saddled with old-fogey expiration times, she followed us in her car. Knowing (and approving) that she's cautious about speeding I curbed (sorry, bad pun zone) my usual Andretti-like highway driving style. Only to have her cut off drivers twice to follow me into a lane instead of speeding up into the generous space I'd left her. The second time she looked up to see me freaking out in my rear view and laughed and had Nettie text Raine that it wasn't THAT close. I texted her back several stop lights later asking if she'd take her mom in her car to give me a break from the whining, but all that got me was smacked.

Dude was destined for some disappointment right off the bat, because the chairlift that he loved so much last year hadn't started operating yet. (it's ruled by PEN-DOT, more on that later) So we ended up taking a shuttle to the entrance with expectations of a cool chair ride on the way back to the car. We entered the park and immediately lost our teen-females, not to be seen again until free food was offered. Raine, Dude and I wandered for a bit fortified with hand-made corn dogs and Pepsi. Then Raine and I started discussing what we would do first and Dude piped up " Got to get to the Log-Jammer!" Raine used her Presidential veto powers to insert a bathroom break, although there was a minority opinion that after riding the flume ride no one would be able to tell the difference, and then off to the Log-Jammer we went.

After our refreshing spritzing we once again wandered the park aimlessly. Last year we'd skipped Riane's favorite ride, a wooden coaster called the Jackrabbit, because quite frankly it scared Dude to death the only time he'd ridden on it. It has a 'bunny hop' (not a pun, that's what it's called) in the middle of a drop that makes you think you're going to be flung out onto the tracks and run over by the cars, much to the delight of the screaming park-goers that had managed to hang on. David is never very happy waiting in line for anything but the aforementioned LogJammer but I'm not sure he realized just which ride we were actually on. Up to a point he had been really enjoying the ride, yelling to me that I had to put my arms in the air. Until we reached the curve just before the deadly drop. Then both his voice and his arms dropped a bit and he started looking a bit apprehensive. I put my arm around him as we dropped down the hill, and that must have done the trick because after the 'hop' he yelled 'This is sooo cool!'. Raine insists that this is now Dude's favorite ride, but I have my doubts.

I dragged everyone across the park to the Steel Phantom (my favorite KW coaster) and were whipped around in the last car and realized our corn dogs hadn't completely settled yet. Dave had been faithfully raising his arms and yelling for every drop on every ride, but at the bottom of the SP's second drop there's a really tight curve slightly to the right and back up the hill that compressed him almost down into his socks. He still loved every minute, but that many rides in such a short period of time really wiped us all out. Luckily for us it was just about time for us to head over and throw both trotters in the corporate trough.

I'm sure that's exactly the impression I gave to all my co-workers. But while I wasn't eating for two, I had to make several extra trips for Dude provisioning. After an almost drive-by dinner visitation by the teenage contingent we were actually deciding if we wanted to make our next ride our last before we went home. To no one's surprise Dave immediately voted for... you guessed it, the Log-Jammer. Since we were convinced that Dude wouldn't take us home if we didn't accede to his imperial demand we immediately got into line. Now it's a little known fact that the rear passenger on a flume ride is toast (so to speak) because the front of the boat is designed to dig into the water when the front passengers outweigh the back. Raine didn't care about the physics involved she just didn't want once again be the soak victim in our little fun-ride fantasy. So I became the sacrificial soak-ee while the other two sat up front and on the last hill I scooted and leaned as far forward as I could get to give Dude maximum splash-age. I'm glad I was wearing shorts, that way I wasn't wearing 50 pounds of soaked denim on the way out of the park. For some reason Raine was completely unsympathetic about my drenched condition, muttering something like, 'It's about time you got a turn', or something like that.

On our way out of the park we made our obligatory stop at the Fudge/Candy shop cunningly planted near the exit. (I sense a calorie conspiracy). Raine immediately chose 1/2 pound each of chocolate and vanilla, and I got two haystacks (coconut in white chocolate dipped in milk chocolate) that were nothing like the ones mom used to make (I still like mom's better. hint hint). Afterwards we proceeded to our anticipated date with the chairlift to our car. Now we get to it: As we walked up to the obviously operating lift there was a 'No Entry' sign at the gate. We found this confusing as there were people riding the lift down from the top of the hill. Talking to the obviously unhelpful and uninterested girls watching the ride gave us no comfort and damn little information. All we were told was that we were not allowed to enter and/or ride the lift and... well, that was it actually. Left to imagine Midwestern bigotry we were relegated with the rest of the drudges to the shuttle bus. Not to be made a liar to my son, and feeling rather clever, I asked Raine to drive the car to the bottom of the hill while Dude and I rode the lift back down. When we were about halfway down I asked Dave if he was ready to go home, thinking he would be experiencing game-withdrawals by this point. He answered immediately, "No! Got to ride the escalator!!" (chairlift). That made the little extra trouble and the fact that Raine somehow got lost on the way to the other end (it's 60 feet in the air on the side of the hill. How could you lose it?) all worth it. I'm not sure if he expected me to somehow know a secret way off, or he thought I was going to drop him through the sunroof of the car as it drove under us, but he wanted to make sure he got the full ride.

While Dude and I were dangling our tootsies above the firmament, Raine found out that PEN-DOT, who oversees the ride, has some strange rule about not having passengers going both directions at the same time. I mean there are evidently no rules about the 3 million potholes I slalom on the way to work so they've got time to micro-manage this chairlift. There are also some other strange rules about when or if the lift is even operated. We had just managed some lucky timing the last couple of times.

You Have 2 New Messages:

It's either a bridge, or a really long boat:

If someone had asked me (and no one did), 'Would you brave Fire, Flood, and Family to get your Dudeness back'. I'd have instantly said 'Yes' without a second thought. Now if you stretch the 'Fire' thing to include bad-tempered redheads, that's exactly what I did. The 'Flood' part you can see in the pic on the left. and that makes the 'Family' part the most dangerous of them all.

First there was my son Tim, who picked me up at the airport and nearly got lost twice on the way out. If not for the timely interventions of his room-mate Megan, we'd be circling the 'Ace of Clubs' shaped MCI (Mid Continent International) even still. Then he introduces me to his psychotic house cat 'Unit-two' (don't ask, I did and was still confused after they'd explained it twice) who was initially nice, but turned into Linda Blair when I tried to pick her up. Then there was his insidious plot to get me to return by introducing me to the Free State Grill's addictive concoction called 'Cheddar Ale Soup'. Something that should only be doled out by prescription and followed up by a 12 step rehab program. It's that good. On the way out of town the next day we stopped so Tim could renew his car registration. As anyone that has lived in Kansas knows, each letter is assigned a month of the year to renew, and June is the 'H' month. The 30th being the final day that procrastinator 'H's could register without a penalty. So naturally, that was the day my son renewed.

We spent some time talking to my mother when we reached the Homeland, and after Tim left I helped mom and dad get ready for the Farmer's Market. (Good Stuff: Enchilada Lady, mom thinks it's a little pricey, but I think they're really good) then agreed to run an errand with my mom. That errand, naturally enough ended with... You guessed it, registering her vehicles and also trying to do the same for Beth. (I'm sensing a genetic pattern here) Beth wins the Procrastinator of the Year award. She had 10 minutes to spare before fine,imprisonment and legal shame, because she hadn't signed something and I had to zip off to bring her down to the Courthouse from work.

Despite the fact that my family seems to enjoy sleeping on rocks (who ever heard of a stiff futon? and their mattresses were harder) I was looking forward to several days with them until they were to wend their way to the Northern Reaches (Minneapolis) to spend the 4th with PJ. I was prepared to enjoy it that is, until I ran into something that became a recurring theme. People wanting me to make DECISIONS! I tried to explain to everyone, (Tim, Mom, Dad, Beth, Chris, Shirley, Deb, et al) I wasn't there to disrupt anyone's life, I was there for a few days of vacation before I picked up Dude, and the only plan I had was to see as many people as possible, take a bunch of pictures, and be at the Airport Sunday morning in time for my flight. I didn't want to decide where anyone was going to eat, be, or do. It was a difficult battle, but I think I emerged victorious and annoyed some people in the bargain, so it was a win-win.

Points Deducted: No one either told, or reminded, me that Atchison is where the Verizon 'Can you hear me now?' Dude went to die. Absolutely no signal anywhere in the county. Every time I lamented this fact to anyone within earshot all I got was a knowing chuckle and a nod of the head and a look of 'Where you been boy, you don't know that?'. Luckily for me, BC had Verizon put up a temporary tower for some Catholic Teen conference. So as long as I was willing to put up with overly polite Catholic teens, I could at least check my messages and make a couple of calls before Campus Security got too curious, or the mosquitoes became too voracious. Monks must have thick skins, 'cause those things were vicious! I'm not kidding, when the sun went down, they came out with bibs on. So I would drag myself up to BC 3 or 4 times a day and even though Dave only witnessed the procedure for one day, he'd chime, "You have two new messages, please enter your password to retrieve your messages", and basically give me a hard time until he could get back to Brendan's XBox.

Soon it became the time both to be awaited and feared, rescuing the Dude from the clutches of the Evil Mad-Woman, or just picking up Dave from his mom (same thing). I was waiting in the parking lot of a QT when I heard "There he is!!!" and looked up to see my son dragging his mother by one hand down the sidewalk to get over to me. After the traditional unpleasantness that's inevitable whenever she and I are within the same state, Dude was deposited in the car, and we were ready to go. Dave babbling at the speed of sound (is that possible?) about 'Time to go to the airport.' 'Got to get to Pittsburgh.' and, of course, 'Time to go to the GameStop!!'. I don't even know if they have GameStops in Kansas! Dave's enthusiasm about going home was dimmed a bit when he found out that Brendan has several gaming systems hooked up. He was especially fond of the XBox 360 in the living room, and I had to check his bag when we left to make sure he wasn't trying to smuggle it out.

Bonus Points: My son Joe's kids were up for a visit at the same time, so I got to spend some time with them. We were all out on the front porch playing imagination games when their mom called out through the front door, "Are you being good?" To which (naturally) they all said, " Yes!" and I added, "Well, as good as Hoffman kids know how to be." Which was no more than the truth, and pretty funny besides. (picture from left to right: Dude, Evelyn, Berlin, and Little Joe)

This is just a sketch (possibly first installment) of what happened in the 5 days I was wandering Mein Vaterland. If I'd gone into more detail or tried to cover everything I'd be responsible for many keyboard impressions on foreheads. (caused by people falling asleep at their computers.) Might go into more detail later, but I kinda feel sorry for Raine, 'cause she had to hear the whole thing. And I was right there to shake her awake. Poor woman.

Time on My Hands:

Pittsburgh Transformer

I remember saying once something like, 'A few days without Dude is a vacation', or something like that. Well, I'm way over that stage and it already seems like his exile should be over and I should be rescuing him from the Perils of the Midwest... or something. (too dramatic, you think?) But unfortunately, and by Court Order, I've got to wait another week before I can swipe him back. For some reason the thought of stealing him back sounds better to me than just saying I'm just going to be picking him up... lol.

Not that there won't be times after I've picked him up that I'll wonder why I went to the trouble. but mostly I'm more than happy to have him around.... mostly.

Father's day was spent taking Raine's son Dahntahn (that's downtown to those who don't speak Pittsburgh) to catch a bus back to Penn State and I saw this really cool Pittsburgh Transformer-like statue. The first two things that flashed through my mind were: 'Dave would REALLY like this' and 'I'd probably have to figure out some way to keep him from crawling around on it'. 'Cause there's no way that little knee high chain will keep him out. It seems that 'Arch' (no I didn't make that up) was created by California artist Glenn Kaino for the 250th anniversary celebration. It's 20 feet tall and looks like a Transformer made out of bridges and girders. Now this kind of thing makes sense to find in Pittsburgh. It's industrial, made out of bridges and is mostly black and gold. Unlike the full sized Fredric Remington-esque bronco buster statue in a Gym parking lot next to the bike trail. Not only would Dude not care about it, but what the hell is a cowboy statue doing in Pittsburgh? Next to a gym? The mind wobbles.

The Count-Down Begins:

The Monster climbs up from the depths.....

So, it's that time of year again. In what has strangely become a yearly tradition (for the last two anyway) Dude is going to be gone for a month with his mother in Kansas City. In what has also become a yearly tradition, everyone here has to put up with me moping around for days before he even leaves.

David, on the other hand, was incredibly excited... to fly in an airplane, if nothing else. He's been babbling for the last week all about it to anyone who'll listen. It's sometimes difficult that Dave doesn't understand emotional things. He was babbling the other day on the way home from school about his trip 'tomorrow' all the time I'm trying to get a word in edgewise about how he wasn't leaving until Tuesday and then I did something that was doomed to turn out bad. I asked him if he would like it when I picked him up and brought him home. 'Noooo!,' he said. I'm pretty sure he just didn't understand the question, but it still hurt my feelings a bit. After I explained about how he'd be at his mom's for 4 weeks and then I'd come get him he seemed to come around to the plan, but I still moped about it a bit. (OK, more than a bit, but unobtrusively I'm sure) Dave, like most autistic children doesn't understand emotions. His or anyone elses. I don't mean to sound maudlin, but even a veteran (like me) can get caught feeling bad about something that Dave never intended, or even understood.

A couple of days later I was out walking the trail when Raine texted me that Dude had told her that he wanted me to pick him up at his moms in a couple of weeks and bring him home. Even knowing what I know about Dude not understanding the situation and also knowing that it was almost certainly prompted by Raine, that simple statement made me feel a lot better about the situation (and also raised warm and fuzzy thoughts about Raine)

I don't think I give Raine enough props (here or anywhere else) she's managed for most of the last ten years to adapt to Dude's world view and support me in ways that I'm not even sure I understand. What I do understand is this: When Dave leaves I .... well, I get kind of off center. She's been very indulgent of my semi-psychotic restless episodes, and even more than usually sensitive to my emotions. She's even voluntarilly left the Cave of Safety to be with me out in the Sun Scarred Waste Spaces... you know, outdoors. She didn't even get out the straightjacket once while I was trying to book David and my return tickets in adjoining seats online. Something that seemingly requires much yelling and a certain amount of cursing in at least 4 different languages. I'm sure what finally turned the trick was when I reached for my hockey stick and threatened to climb into the internet and take care of things personally.

He plays his games

to play his games

not for heroes

fortune or fame

He never loses,

He's not trying to win

Just sets them up, to play again.

Saving damsels is not his style

He's just content, to play a while

No good or evil, not friend or foe.

The last high score? He'll never know

Win or lose, it's all the same.

'Cause after all, it's just a game.