Aaahhh...home again. Funny, we have so many places that feel like home now. When we traveled to Syracuse this weekend, it was like my insides breathed a sigh of relief...here are Adam and Harrison Street. Wanna go out to eat? I know a place. If I need to shop or meet up with a friend, I know where to go and who to call. Yes, Syracuse felt like home. But, guess what? When we returned, so did Maine. I equally breathed a sigh of relief to return to our little apartment above the garage because here is our routine; here is our peace and quiet, and here is where there is just us. This is home, for now.
Nevertheless, our five day, eight hour trip back to NY for Bobby's Perfusion Conference was just a great time. We sprung our arrival on the Butterfields only a week in advance (sorry!), who opened their beautiful home, accented with Lindor Truffles and mints in the bedroom, graciously for us, even calling us the "perfect house-guests." Well, they were the perfect hosts, then. They felt like family and we sat and chatted for hours whenever our schedules allowed, which wasn't often with everyone working, including me. Bobby was at school from morning till night helping with the conference, working on his presentation, and catching up with colleagues. Meanwhile, I filled in at a group home for girls with disabilities, and put in a good 23 hours. (Thanks, God!)
One of the highlights was the dance that I attended for people with mental disabilities. SO. Much. Fun. How can I describe it...? It was like a club, but in a church gym, complete with a live Elvis impersonator and DJ. People in wheelchairs were dancing their shoulders and knecks out. A heavy set couple with Downs-Syndrome were swaying happily to the romantic songs. One of my favorites was a middle-aged woman with half of her teeth missing who enthusiastically kept asking me, "Do you know how to clap?!" and then proceeding to clap her heart out in beat to the music. I saw break-dancing, some good, some not so good; sexy hair tossing, by a girl with unbelievably large hips, and a "train" with three men making up the compartments.
Upon entering, I was approached by a 6"3 gangly boy whose upper lip did not make it over his crooked teeth. He lingered in front of me, staring, until I said, "Hi, I'm Kara," and held out my hand. I decided to redirect him, because I could tell that he was looking for a serious love relationship, not just friendship, and introduced him to "Sarah", a large-toothed sweet girl from the house, who's generally much more interested in girls than boys. But what incredible teeth their children would have!
They hit it off right away, moving right into a hug after the handshake that "Ryan" (names are changed to protect privacy) didn't want to let go of. They linked hands and jitterbugged and shared one of the longest, most intimate good-bye hugs that I'd ever seen at the end of the night. Now, Sarah calls him her boyfriend, even though she continuously forgets his name (that's okay...three days in and she's still asking for mine).
After I had successfully pawned off Ryan, I was approached by a staff member who informed me that I was the only girl in the room with which his crutch-bound client would dance (the "Belle" of the ball, huh?). I encouraged him that I would be a good sport if his client could gather the courage to come out to the dance floor. Meanwhile, I continued dancing with "Gia", who, for her limited verbal and physical abilities, got really into it - clapping and standing in front of me so that I would shake her hips and move her arms for her. After two unsuccessful attempts, my crutch-bound suitor finally braved the floor, flanked by his two 6" tall staff/friends. None of them were dancing. Did they expect me to do a little dance for him while they all watched? Because that's not in my job description. I wasn't sure, so I danced closer to him with Gia, but felt a little shy as well. It all sort of fizzled out like a Middle School drama with him leaving, and me dancing away with my happy client. But the girls had so much fun and I'm sure that my hopeful dance partner's leg will heal and a suitable beauty will catch his eye again. There's so much more to say about it all - the dynamics of this particular house were truly fascinating.
However, I'll conclude by saying that it was a great, productive weekend. Bobby nailed his presentation. Although he woke one night with anxiety, his prayers paid off because he ended up seeming as calm as a clam (Maine reference) and fielding the questions from other perfusionists as if he had prepared and researched for each specifically. My smartie-husband, everyone seems to love him! I DO.
One sad event occurred on the way to the "Meet-and-Greet" at the hotel. A dred-locked man, supported by his parents, entered the elevator with us. He shuffled like a 90 year old and his face was shocking - half of it was swollen like a bloated gourd and deep, fresh tears scaled his skin, as if he'd been raked with a claw, from forehead to chin. His arm was also in a sling. I remember that he had pale yellow socks with rubber flip-flops over them. They told us that he was in the recent double-decker bus accident. The driver took the wrong exit and ended up crunching the top of the bus into a low bridge on Onondaga Lake Parkway. It was an international tour bus and the incident made world news. Four died and this man was one of the 27 who were seriously injured. He spoke quietly and seemed so weak and childlike - still in shock. Life is fragile, but the Bible says not to fear sudden disaster or the ruin that overtakes the wicked, because He will be our confidence and keep our foot from being snared (devos this morning).
So, those were glimpses into our third week at Maine. Four more to go.
By the way, our second week was fairly uneventful, aside from the fact that I began working at the Loft and we did a phone interview to be on Jerry Seinfeld's show, "The Marriage Ref". I think that we blew it since the issue that we were debating is no longer present. Namely, my husband decided to leave his rotting old sleeping bag/obsessive-comfort-blankie named "Ribbie" at his Mom's house. I Win! (...and lose, since we could've gotten a free cruise had it all panned out.)
Oh well - my minute on Jay Leno will have to be enough.
Have a great week!
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