Textualization

All my friends know that I do a 365 self-portrait project. The kids taking notes for the test later will know that I'm about a month into my fourth year (and haven't missed a day yet).

DG doesn't care about my 365. It has become just something I do. He doesn't even acknowledge me when I say: "I gotta do my 365" and then disappear from the room for about a half hour while I take random photos of myself till I get one I like or fits with a theme. He has been in a few, very reluctantly.

Day 65 of Year One

Day 216 of Year Two

Day 238 of Year Three

There are a few others that have him in the background or just his hand in the shot. But the amount of cajoling and nagging it took to get him into those photos was ridiculous. Even now, I say to him: "I need you for my 365- JUST YOUR HAND..." because if I don't say it fast enough, he will whine. Literally whine out: "Oh, man! Why!?"

I've been doing some creative self-portraits in the last few months (Link to Facebook album of the Creative Self-portraits). Some requiring Photoshop special effects. But even when I say: "Hey, look at my 365...", he almost always glances and says, "Okay." and that's that. No feedback, no compliments. I don't talk about the negative stuff related to his disability much, because that's not what this blog is about. But most of the time, we're more like roommates. There's a line between "spouse" and "nurse" that I've had to cross more often than I'd like and there's pretty much no romance. Definitely no passion. Day-to-day, he acts mostly like I'm a piece of furniture till he needs me to do something for him.

Last night, I got a text out of the blue.

"Why don't you wear lipstick? That 365 was hot."

I wasn't sure it was him. He doesn't compliment my photography and he damn sure hasn't called me "hot" in years. So, I told him that lipstick tastes terrible and is messy. And the particular lipstick I wear in my creative 365s is black-red, so it even stains things (all things, actually). It isn't something I'd wear every day even if I did wear lipstick.

We proceeded to have a conversation through text about my 365s, the Photoshop techniques I use to get the color-select effect, "sexy" poses for my 365, and makeup. I had to explain the 365 rules to him because he didn't get the whole "rejected" shot thing. The rules are simple, take a photo of yourself, once a day, every day, for a year. You can only submit one photo a day. But once in a while, my "reject" shots are just as cool or I just like them, so I keep them. I'll use them on Facebook or upload them to Flickr for a different group.

I really don't know why I didn't give up on him when it came to my 365. I don't get feedback around the house. Just online. But in the past year, I've been saying: "Come here and look at this photo" because I've impressed myself and want to share it. Not just 365 photos, but all photos. He begrudgingly gets up and comes to look at the monitor. He'd mutter an "okay" and a few times, he's said "whatever" when I told him how I got the shot or what I did to it in Photoshop.

But last week, I sent him a text and asked if he'd like to see my 365. He said sure. He replied with: "Cool."

And then that random text last night.

"Why don't you wear lipstick. That 365 was hot."

The end of our text conversation last night:

DG: "What's a sexy pose you can do for a 365?"

Me: "I dunno. Anything, really. The one you liked was an accident."

DG: "You should do that. I bet people like that."

Me: "I'm sure some do." There was a long break, so I said: "Did you just ask me to do a sexy 365 for tomorrow?"

DG: "Did I? Okay. I did."

I don't know what the hell is going on, but I'm gonna do it.

Textually Speaking 2013 (and, long time, no update...)

DG is down in North Carolina again. We all know that he's got some communication issues. He has trouble expressing his own thoughts and, obviously the basis of this blog, sometimes he'll blurt the absolute wrong word or phrase, resulting in hilarity (mostly). Now, we're closing in on eighteen years since he had his stroke. It is what it is and it isn't going to get better.

That said... his mother talks fast. Really fast. I'm not exaggerating when I compare her to an auctioneer. And, being from North Carolina, she's got a Southern accent. Really fast. Really Southern. She makes almost no effort to change her speaking rate or whatnot when she's talking to DG. Granted, she doesn't live with him like we do, but when he's visiting for an extended period of time, one would think that an effort would be made. (this is actual fact, she also knows this, so it isn't like I'm being a big meanie to point this out).

This is a text conversation that happened yesterday. (all spelling errors are as they are in the text because in texts, he spells phonetically)

DG: "Mom wants a updayed pics of the kids & us."

Me: "Okay. What size?"

[long delay in the reply, partly because he doesn't have a QWERTY keyboard on his phone]

DG: "She would like 1 big pic all 3 kids, 5x7 single the kids & 8x10 of us"

Me: "What about 5x7 of Jason and his girlfriend? Kat and Tyler?" (Jase has been with his girlfriend for over a year now and Kat and Tyler have been together for, I don't know, fifteen years? Three years?).

DG: "Yess she said she would love that."

So, I start looking through my Flickr account because I have a folder there of just "the kids" and I back up most of my stuff there as well as my backup hard drive. I have no recent photos of Kat and Tyler, no recent "studio" shots of the three kids, but I have Jason and his girlfriend and a shot of Christine- from December- and the shot of us from October. So, I tell him this in a text: "Got no recent of Kat and T, none of Kat or Jase alone, no recent group shot of the kids."

Ten minutes later, my phone rings. Fuck that noise, he's calling. Texting ain't gonna happen. He tells me: "Hey, Mom says..." and his voice trails off as his mother talks in the background. Before I could even utter that he should give her the phone, he says: "Here, talk to her yourself."

So, his mom gets on the phone and starts talking. And talking. We work out that I'll upload the photos I do have to Walgreen's and arrange for pickup in their town in North Carolina. I'm not overly thrilled with that, because the one-hour Walgreen's only offers the option of "glossy" finish. Plus, they're hugely overpriced compared to the website I get my photos from now (Adoramapix-dot-com). For example, on Walgreen's website, it costs $1.99 for a glossy 5x7 and it doesn't specify what type of paper they use. At Adoramapix, I can get a Kodak Professional Supra Endura in matte, lustre, glossy, or metallic. And I'm extremely fond of the metallic prints (not to be confused with their Metallic prints, which are actually on metal) because they look bloody sharp. And, I can get a 5x7 in the metallic finish for 84¢. That's CENTS. BUT, I digress...

After I made the proper verbal arrangements with his mom, DG got back on the phone and he did a short, slightly nervous chuckle. "You get all that?"

I replied, "Of course."

DG: "I wasn't gonna be able to text that whole thing."

Me: "I know. It's okay. I got it."

DG: "Crazy."

Me: "A little."

In the time I was talking to his mother, I found the current photos I had and told him of what I did and didn't have, to make sure he knew I didn't have ALL the photos. And we hung up. I then uploaded the four photos I had (one of me and him, one of Jase and his girlfriend, one with Jase, girlfriend, and her daughter[no public photo], and one of Christine- cropped slightly), and texted DG with the pickup time info. When he replied "okay", I told him how pricey Walgreen's was compared to the Adoramapix prices.

DG: "Really? That's stupid."

Me: "I know. I'm glad this isn't one of my art photos."

DG: "They don't like art."

Me: "I know."

DG: "Mom has a coupon."

They ended up getting the $10-something photos for $7-something. So the coupon did come in handy. Even though my photos are bleh on some unknown paper with glossy finish. And as luck would have it, I was able to wrangle the three kids together for a photo shoot on March 26th. And I've got it arranged for Kat and Tyler on the 24th. BUT, since I'm going to need prints for myself and my dad, I'm just going to order them at Adoramapix on good quality paper with a nice finish. Because dammit, my kids deserve pretty pictures.

After it was all over, I asked: "She still doesn't slow down for you?"

DG: "Nope."

Me: "Doesn't even try?"

DG: "Nope."

Me: "How do you listen to her?"

DG: "I don't. lol."

Precision drops...

Our oldest daughter is moving this week. Well, today, actually. (for those not keeping track, we have three kids- Kat, 23; Jason, 21; and Christine, 19). Kat is moving from where she's lived the last two or so years with her boyfriend, Tyler. They've moved to a town that's actually closer to home than they were before because of Tyler's job. (he's an EMT/firefighter/paramedic/MacGyver/chess prodigy/acrobat/juggler/fire-eater... some of his occupation may be fictionalized for fun). Kat is in college and had no problem transferring (within the University of Wisconsin schools, they have several of them. My other daughter is at a UW school in another town).

Anyway, Kat calls the Disabled Guy this morning and informs him that they didn't get a big enough U-Haul truck and could he please come over with his trailer and truck and help them out. Of course he can. She lived an hour and a half away. So, DG gets dressed and has to unload his trailer so he can then go help her. I was in our room, blowdrying my hair when he came in to tell me about it and change clothes.

Among the explanation of what he was going to do and me sending texts to the girls (because Christine was helping Kat move) about meeting DG at the highway exit so he wouldn't get lost in town, DG tells me he needs to find the lid to his coffee cup. He has a HUGE insulated cup. I mean huge. It holds half a pot of coffee. He's had it for more than ten years, there is no way we can even think about the lid much less find it. So, I logically suggest he needs to use one of the insulated travel mugs we have that are of normal size.

Me: "Just use the one Christine uses for tea."

DG: "It ain't big enough."

Me: "Yours is too big to fit in your truck."

DG: "I don't need it for my truck. I just want to take it outside with me."

Me: "Why do you need a lid for that? Just take it outside with you."

DG: "What about birds?"

Me: "What about them? They're not going to drink- oh, you think they'll poo in your coffee?"

DG: "Shuh-yeah. You don't?"

Me: "I doubt they can fire with that amount of accuracy to land inside a coffee cup, even one as big as yours."

DG: "I had it happen! They done flew right through my window, crapped on the seat and flew out the other side!"

That's allegedly what happened. When we were stationed in Kansas, we had an El Camino (I'm going to skip the discussion that we had where I told him to get a car with a back seat, because eventually we'd have kids, but he got an El Camino. Google it, Kids) and he left the windows open while he was home for lunch. He thinks a bird flew in through the window and out through the other. I think it was more of a gravity plus flight trajectory that resulted in the errant poo on the seat, but whatever...

Me: "You think they can just drop with precision?"

DG: "Don't you know? They're like those Japanese Zeros. They fly down- [he makes a hand gesture to indicate that it is a Japanese fighter jet] and zzcchoooooooom! They drop their load and fly away, laughing at us. It's what they do."

Me: "You think a bird can fly down, drop a load in your coffee cup and fly away?"

DG: "Don't you? Yeah, it could happen."

Me: "No, it couldn't. Unless it was an accident."

DG: "That's what they WANT you to think! But they're always thinkin'. Planning..."

Birds... you can't trust them with an open cup of coffee. Apparently.

Of course I'm sure, I've been trained for this

The Michael Keaton version of "Batman"  is on cable right now. DG walked through the living room.

DG: "Superman..."

Me: "Batman?"

DG: "No, that reporter guy. Superman 2." (he held up two fingers)

Me: "What reporter guy? Clark Kent was a reporter."

DG: "The guy in Superman 2. He was in Superman too."

Me: "This is 'Batman' and the only reporter in it is Vickie Vale."

DG: "Are you sure? I think that guy was in Superman." (every time he'd say "that guy" or point, it was always Jack Nicholson on screen).

Finally he said, "NOT that guy... the other reporter in Superman."

Me: "Lois Lane?"

DG: "THAT GUY! No, wait, that guy... dammit!"

Me: "Jimmy Olson?"

DG: "YES! Is that him?"

Me: "You're talking about that obnoxious dude who is friends with Vickie Vale? His name is Robert Wuhl."

DG: "I am? I am."

Me: "No, that wasn't Jimmy Olson from Superman."

DG: "Are you sure?"

Me: "Of course I'm sure, I've been trained for this kind of situation." 

For your viewing pleasure- 

Jimmy Olson from the "Superman" movies and Robert Wuhl in "Batman".

I can see it, I guess.

Turkey fighting- it isn't what you think.

Our son works nights at a local factory (well-known maker of delicious things). Today, he came home around 645 AM and was carrying a box. Apparently, the factory gave all their employees a frozen ten pound turkey. (the "unclaimed" turkeys go to a local charity).

Jase got the turkey into the freezer and then he went to bed. DG came down just now and I said: "Hey, Jason brought home a turkey."

DG: "What?"

I told him how the factory gave out turkeys to their employees.

DG: "We already have a turkey. Did it fit in the freezer?"

Me: "Apparently."

DG: "I hope it don't fight with the other turkey." [I just looked at him and he continued] "You know, cuz they hate each other."

Me: "Frozen dead turkeys hate each other?"

DG: "Yeah. You know how turkeys are." [no, apparently I don't!]

There was a several moment pause.

DG: "I hope they don't start nothing. We'll end up with little turkeys everywhere."

Me: "You just said they were going to fight."

DG: [scoffing noise] "They gotta have makeup sex..." [with a tone of "duh, how did you not know"]

That's where he left it. He went and got his coffee and when he sat down in the living room, I had to tell him one thing about frozen turkeys.

Me: "Even if they do have makeup sex, I don't think little turkeys would be a problem... most turkeys that are butchered and frozen for eating are boy turkeys."

DG: "Ah, well... they're gonna fight then."

Me: "What if they're gay turkeys? They can still have makeup sex."

DG: "I ain't never heard of gay turkeys."

Me: "Why not? They have gay penguins."

DG: "No they don't."

Me: "They're in the news and I think they raised a baby together."

DG: "These ain't penguins. These are turkeys. And they hate each other." [short pause] "They're gonna fight."

So... frozen turkeys hate each other and are going to fight... but frozen turkeys can't be gay.
SEEMS LEGIT!

Don't Look! (while I stand right here in front of you)

Sorry I haven't updated this in a while. I've been busy and heck and keep forgetting the details of the conversations to share them. I have a bunch of stuff I've put in the group on Facebook (I wish I had made that a fan page instead of a "group"... I suppose I could do that when I think about it... but not now!).
Where was I?

Oh, this conversation. I said on Facebook that this conversation would include anatomy and it would be using a euphemism. Well, it will. And it does. The Euphemism in question comes from an episode of "The Simpsons" where Homer runs outside naked and Flanders calls out: "Hey, Homie! I can see your doodle!"
(go on, click the link. I have it all cued up to that point and you can hear it happen).

We have one bathroom in this house- because the person who designed it was insane, that's what I think- anyway, because of this, we try not to monopolize the bathroom with things that can be done elsewhere. In my case, I blow dry my hair in my bedroom. And having spent all those years in pain, I got in the habit of sitting on the bed and not using a mirror.

DG has been sick (a lovely case of "waaah, I have a cold! Oh now, now it's become a chest cold!") lately and while the mix of Disabled Guyisms and Nyquil has been entertaining, the conversations were short and usually when I was otherwise occupied and couldn't take notes (Yes, I take notes sometimes).

Today, I was blow-drying my hair and he came into the room. He proceeded to whine about being sick briefly and then took off his sweatshirt and PJ pants to go take a shower. As he started to leave, he stopped and took off his boxers too.

He stood in front of the TV (which is where I was looking) and took a Superman stance. "Stop staring at me."

Me: "I can see your doodle."

He turned slightly, still in front of me and said, "No! Stop looking at it!"

Me: "If I keep looking at it, will it do tricks?"

DG put his hand up, thinking he was blocking my view, but he wasn't. "Don't look at it! He's shy."

Me: "Shy? Really?"

DG: "Yeah, he's shy and he doesn't like it when you stare. He feels self-conscious." He turned around more and then blocked his, uh, doodle, with his hand. "There, now he's safe."

Me: "Safe from what?"

DG: "Your eyes with their looking."

Me: "Maybe your doodle should tell you to move the hell outta my way."

DG: "Don't talk about him like he's not here!"

Me: "Maybe he should leave the room if he's so shy and self-conscious."

DG: "He wants to leave, but he can't. He's got rollers and can't even use them." As he walked out of the room, slowly, sideways, he said: "He's got two flats! Two flat rollers and he can't go nowhere!"

He shuffled to the bathroom and I finished blow-drying my hair. When he came back in, he put on new boxers, took the Superman stance again, and informed me: "He's safe now. He feels safe. He's at home."

Oh, and totally random... we have a new pet rat. First we had Mittens- who was pardoned after living here for a month and a half and not being eaten by the snake. Then a while later, we got Boots.

Now we have Tuxedo. Yes. Tuxedo. She's black and white, hence the name. We've got Boots, Mittens, and Tuxedo.

We Revisit the Guy who was in the movie with another guy

This is one of my favorite conversations, because he actually brings it up once in a while and laughs about it still.

You know that movie with that guy who does that thing?

DG is watching "Red Tails". I told him I liked that movie back when it was called "The Tuskeegee Airmen". He said: "Har-har."

But this is what just happened.

DG: "That guy is in this movie."

Me: "What guy?"

DG: "That guy... you know the... that guy... Designing Women?"

Me: "Which one?" (I knew who he was talking about, but I wanted him to say it).

DG: "The one who married that lady." (he sort of stumbled over the word "major" here).

Me: "Major Dad?"

DG: "Yes!"

Me: "Gerald MacRaney. I get it, he's in this." (I have to go because I have stuff to do, so I was trying to walk away and he kept talking).

DG: "He's a colonel in this." He looked at me all smug for some reason and said: "One star."

I stared at him. He stared back. I narrowed my eyes slightly. He repeated: "One star. You know... just one." (He nodded, so sure of himself. I still don't know why, it wasn't like we don't know military rank. We're both Army brats).

I narrowed my eyes a little more. "One star?"

DG: "Yeah, you know [motioned to his shoulder]- one star."

Me: "He's a one-star... Colonel?"

DG: "What?"

Me: "You said he was a colonel and that he had one star."

DG: "I did not. Did I?"

Me: "You did. I was waiting on you to catch it."

DG: "I wasn't listening to myself. [he pointed at his head as he said that]. I must be SPECIAL!" Then he sighed heavily. "I don't know what's wrong with me..."

It's a pretty good movie. You should see it.