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Scattered Catch-up
Sep. 16th, 2006 09:10 amBought Ben the very cheapest plane ticket available for East-to-West Coast flights, the Jet Blue special for $119. Called him, gave him the confirmation number and added in the most amiable tone I could muster, "Now the deal is you can stay here till December 1."
"I know that," he said in the most amiable tone he could muster and shortly thereafter, the conversation concluded.
Robin's best friend Halen invited him to a school dance last night. Robin called me breathless around 5:30pm to beg permission. "Can we reschedule the appointment with Dr. H? I've had a bad week, I really want to have some fun."
Well, he'd been a good little soldier this week, suffering the immense humiliation of being the lone seventh grader among a class of fifth graders, going to karate, being cheerful and upbeat around the house and anyway, I'm not sure how much he gets out of therapy. I think maybe at this point, I get more out of therapy than Robin does.
I called Dr. H: "I'll come in! We'll talk about Robin behind his back!"
So we did.
Dr. H thought Sandy Shepard's refusal to let Robin go on the retreat was a bizarre over-reaction and wants to have words with her about it. This is good.
Dr. H. also characterized Ben's interpersonal relationship strategy as "wormy." This was interesting. Because there is a particular nematode-ish look Ben gets – facial features flattening, eyes tearing – that in my own mind, I always called "the worm look," a dead giveaway that whatever words were coming out of his mouth at that moment were complete and utter lies.
In other news, Lucius and I have expanded our weekly telephonic Project Runway communion to include Survivor: Race War, and Alex paid me the nicest compliment in the world: "You know, there's a bunch of us" – college students – "who want to take back Cannery Row, you know, give it back that Steinbeck spirit. There are only two places down there that are cool and interesting now: your store and the wax museum. We love the store!"
These kids want to do guerilla marketing for me, like those ubiquitous posters announcing rock bands on every construction site in NYC. Of course since this is Monterey, construction sites want to charge you money for the privilege of displaying posters (this will be another entry) but maybe something could be done with bumper stickers.
"I know that," he said in the most amiable tone he could muster and shortly thereafter, the conversation concluded.
Robin's best friend Halen invited him to a school dance last night. Robin called me breathless around 5:30pm to beg permission. "Can we reschedule the appointment with Dr. H? I've had a bad week, I really want to have some fun."
Well, he'd been a good little soldier this week, suffering the immense humiliation of being the lone seventh grader among a class of fifth graders, going to karate, being cheerful and upbeat around the house and anyway, I'm not sure how much he gets out of therapy. I think maybe at this point, I get more out of therapy than Robin does.
I called Dr. H: "I'll come in! We'll talk about Robin behind his back!"
So we did.
Dr. H thought Sandy Shepard's refusal to let Robin go on the retreat was a bizarre over-reaction and wants to have words with her about it. This is good.
Dr. H. also characterized Ben's interpersonal relationship strategy as "wormy." This was interesting. Because there is a particular nematode-ish look Ben gets – facial features flattening, eyes tearing – that in my own mind, I always called "the worm look," a dead giveaway that whatever words were coming out of his mouth at that moment were complete and utter lies.
In other news, Lucius and I have expanded our weekly telephonic Project Runway communion to include Survivor: Race War, and Alex paid me the nicest compliment in the world: "You know, there's a bunch of us" – college students – "who want to take back Cannery Row, you know, give it back that Steinbeck spirit. There are only two places down there that are cool and interesting now: your store and the wax museum. We love the store!"
These kids want to do guerilla marketing for me, like those ubiquitous posters announcing rock bands on every construction site in NYC. Of course since this is Monterey, construction sites want to charge you money for the privilege of displaying posters (this will be another entry) but maybe something could be done with bumper stickers.
