The Ahndjunope Man

Youngest son had a restricted frenulum as a child and so much of what he said was unintelligble and so we were always translating for him. This also meant that he came up with a number of mispronunciations for words. Hence... the Ahn-dju-nope Man. Ahndunopes are what mail comes in and is delivered by none other than the Ahndjunope man!! I'd be sitting on the throne in the bathroom, I'd hear the pitter patter of little feet and a gruffish voice would announce "Ahndjunope Man!" and an envelope would come shooting from underneath the door. It would be addressed to mom, with a fake stap drawn on one corner and a fake cancellation on top of that and inside would be a letter to me reading I (heart) U. and Signed with the youngest son's name always remembering to put 7 horizontal lines on the E in his name. (He liked the way it looked). Not bad for a 2 year old.

As for his E's. I taught him to write his name rather early. My defense is that no one told me little kids aren't able to write their names. Any hoo younger son held his pen in the oddest way guiding the pen with his ring finger instead of held between thumb and forefinger. Whenever he wrote his name there was always 7 line in his E. I didn't think anything of it until I took him to the County as step one in the process of seeing if his speech could be helped. There were 3 separate tests, a week apart and at the end there was their evaluation.

Casey had just turned 3 at the time and the evaluation went like this.
He knew all his letters other than Q and W (which we called double wary)
His gross motor skills were lacking because he couldn't HOP! (Oh the horror, a hopless son!)
His fine motor skills were lacking as well because he held his pen so oddly. I would have liked to see those women try to write that way. I asked them if they had bothered to show him the 'correct' way. No, they hadn't. I simply handed a pen to younger son, showed him how to hold it and to write his name.
That led into the 7 lines in the letter E and how that was "Wrong". Remember the son was 3. I asked themif they had asked son why he uses 7 lines and again the answer was no. I asked younger son how many lines did a real E have. He knew the answer of three and when I asked why he wrote seven, his answer was because he liked the way it looked. Made me want to reach across the table and smack the woman.

Their final analysis was that younger son had speech problems (no shit) and that he scored as high as a seven year old on all the tests and they suspected it would have been higher if age 7 was as far as the tests tested. And this was done by a three year old, ring finger pen manipulator, 7 line E writer, Ahndjunope MAN!

We did get the frenulum clipped and he went to speech in elementary school and in Kindergarten He had an 145 iQ and in the 6th grade standard tests graded him in the 99.9 percentile of all 10th graders who took the test.

HOWEVER THE KID STILL DOESN'T HOP!

Of Pharoah heads and anniversaries

The Husband and I have been married for 36 years today. We don't do anything to celebrate simply because 36 years seems like an obscene number of years for anyone to do anything, let alone live with another person without killing them, at least once.
As if it isn't obvious, the picture above is our wedding portrait. You know the big ass one that hangs in your living room. Yes, there I am, butt in the air for 36 years. Should the husband try a move like that nowadays, he would first have to rent a crane to get me into the air. So happy anniversay us and WHAT WERE WE THINKING?

On to pleasanter things. Have you seen the new Saturn commercial with the shiny faced woman who looks as if she had never eaten in her entire life. You could slice cheese with her nose and those cheekbones.... but but but... whenever I look at her, all I can think of is that she looks like the mummified head of King Tut. No fooling. King Tut! The men agree with me and not one of them thought it odd that I even KNEW what King Tut's mummified head looks like. But then when younger son would be hangin out with friends and a question would come up like is an aardvark and an anteater the same thing, they didn't even bother going to the internet, or calling the library, nope Casey would call me and I never had to look an answer up. I have no idea how all that stuff got into my head. I'm figuring that any time now, I'll be running out of room and stuff with be dribbling out of my ears. Maybe I shold invest in a pair of corks.

HUH?!

Had another of my infamous dreams last night. In this episode, I was in someone's wedding party where the bridesmaids all wore a purple dress of their choosing. The wedding was held in only what I can call a diner with booths which meant that half of the people attending looked forward and the other half to the back. I suppose the bride and groom were to be married up front by the cash register. As for me, my wedding gift to them was meant. An eye round roast to be specific, all neatly wrapped and tied up with a ribbon.

Gotta stop eating animal crackers before bed. Sheesh

NEWS!

I feel I should send out announcements because I have my first follower.
Something like....
It's a girl, Sharon Graff proudly announces the arrival of her first follower. A saucy girl with a love for dogs and a fondness for oddness.
And as a means of celebration... a journal page!

Let's see what else is new... evil voodoo witch woman called the husband today asking for money because she and her new love got evicted and are now in a motel. Now the husband has told her in no uncertain terms that he was not going to rescue her any more AND she has to stop having her mail sent to our PO Box, both od which she ignored and so he told her again today but the next time she gets in contact with him I'M STEPPING IN and by god, if anyone kills the husband it ought to be me and not the Evil Voodoo Woman. It's not her asking for money that has me irate, it's coming to the husband for him to rescue her again that has pissed me off royally. Which means that my hazel eyes are blzing green at the moment and you wouldn't like me when my eyes are green.

I'm feeling happier with myself because I am getting into this art journal thing like I never could with just collage. And yes the journal page looks like something Teesha Moore might do but remember "imitation is the Highest Form of Flattery". I am hoping to evolve enough so my stuff looks like my stuff and not someone else's. Someday perhaps.

So that's it for today. I'm going to peek at other blogs on my list so perhaps a new inspiration will hit. I only hope that if it does, it doesn't leave a mark.