June is Deafblind Awareness Month, and this week is Deafblind Awareness Week. Today is also the birthday of
<"Helen Keller">
Even when I was blind and hearing, I've always had an interest in Helen Keller, and her life.
We all know that she was truly a pioneer of her time. But rarely, do we stop to think about what her time was like. Things were different, then. Attitudes about disability were radically different, and Helen Keller never had the opportunities that we-- as Deafblind people have today. She is often portrayed as an amazing woman, an angelic figure-- admired for her strength of will, and ever-hungering mind. But how did Helen Keller feel about her own situation? How did she feel about her own deafblindness.
In 1906, Helen Keller asked the author Mark Twain to give a speech at the association of promoting the interests of the blind. She was unable to preside herself, and sent her good friend to speak to them. She also sent him with a letter to read at the meeting. It gives us a very clear look into her feelings about blindness.
"To know what the blind man needs, you who can see must imagine what it would be not to see, and you can imagine it more vividly if you remember that before your journey's end you may have to go the dark way yourself. Try to realize what blindness means to those whose joyous activity is stricken to inaction. It is to live long, long days, and life is made up of days. It is to live immured, baffled, impotent, all God's world shut out. It is to sit helpless, defrauded, while your spirit strains and tugs at its fetters, and your shoulders ache for the burden they are denied, the rightful burden of labor. The seeing man goes about his business confident and self-dependent. He does his share of the work of the world in mine, in quarry, in factory, in counting room, asking of others no boon, save the opportunity to do a man's part and to receive the laborer's guerdon. In an instant accident blinds him. The day is blotted out. Night envelops all the visible world. The feet which once bore him to his task with firm and confident stride stumble and halt and fear the forward step. He is forced to a new habit of idleness, which like a canker consumes the mind and destroys its beautiful faculties. Memory confronts him with his lighted past. Amid the tangible ruins of his life as it promised to be he gropes his pitiful way. You have met him on your busy thoroughfares with faltering feet and outstretched hands, patiently "dredging" the universal dark, holding out for sale his petty wares, or his cap for your pennies; and this was a man with ambitions and capabilities."
When I read this for the first time, my heart broke. I can't imagine how a person could carry on, believing such things about themselves. But it is because she did carry on that deafblind people have the lives we do today.
We can work, we are enjoying life, we travel proudly with confidence. I myself have work which is wonderful and satisfying. I have encouraging friends and family, and meaningful social activities. I have the ability to travel independently, where ever, and when ever I wish-- only limited by finances and time, and responsibility. And the fact that my travel can, at times, be curtailed because of my responsibilities is indeed a blessing. People rely on me, they need me to do various things. I am important, and as much as traveling is a pleasure and a blessing, returning home is an even bigger one.
In the beginning of her letter, Helen Keller states:
"It is a great disappointment to me not to be with you and the other friends who have joined their strength to uplift the blind. The meeting in New York will be the greatest occasion in the movement which has so long engaged my heart: and I regret keenly not to be present and feel the inspiration of living contact with such an assembly of wit, wisdom and philanthropy. I shall be happy if I could have spelled into my hand the words as they fall from your lips, and receive, even as it is uttered, the eloquence of our Newest Ambassador to the blind. We have not had such advocates before. My disappointment is softened by the thought that never at any meeting was the right word so sure to be spoken. But, superfluous as all other appeals must seem after you and Mr. Choate have spoken, nevertheless, as I am a woman, I cannot be silent, and I ask you to read this letter, knowing that it will be lifted to eloquence by your kindly voice.."
These things are now possible. Through the use of relay Services, Captioning, and Transcripts, as well as VRS, SSP's and Interpreters, we are far more able to be a part of our own world. I have instant access to books, to information, to things which never have been even dreamed back in Miss Keller's day.
I have never been ashamed to be Deafblind. I have had the blessing of a loving family, with high standards, good and patient teachers, fabulous role-models, and supportive friends. If I want to do something badly enough-- I will do it, and nothing can stop me.
At the closing of her letter, she says:
"It is because we know that these ambitions and capabilities can be fulfilled that we are working to improve the condition of the adult blind. You cannot bring back the light of the vacant eyes; but you can give a helping hand to the sightless along their dark pilgrimage. You can teach them new skill. For work they once did with the aid of their eyes you can substitute work that they can do with their hands. They ask only opportunity, and opportunity is a torch in the darkness. They crave no charity, no pension, but the satisfaction that comes from lucrative toil, and this satisfaction is the right of every human being."
It is because of people like Helen Keller that we have the freedoms and opportunities we do today. My most profound thanks go out to Ms. Keller, and every other person who has worked to make a better tomorrow. It is now, our responsibility as people who are deafblind, to continue the fight for improvement. If we are hoping to go forward, we must fight, every day. It means writing to Congress Men and Women, it means going to meetings and letting your voice be herd. It means teaching and it is about learning. Most of all, it is about never accepting second best-- standing up,being proud, and knowing that we are making a better future.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Deafblind Awareness week: Fun with Pronouns and other randomness
Many people who have never spoken to a deafblind person through the use of relay service or an interpreter may feel rather flustered when they have a conversation ith someone who is deafblind. They want to have a conversation, but it seems intimidating and they are afraid of saying the wrong thing. This is actually a simple process and if you keep these simple rules in mind, you should do fine.
The first thing to remember is that the interpreter or relay communications operator is there for one purpose-- to facilitate communication for a person who is deaf blind. Just pretend they aren't there. This means using the correct pronouns. If you say "Does she want a morning or afternoon appointment?" the operator or interpreter will say exactly that, and I will look at you funny. Talk directly to the deafblind person, just like you would anybody else. "Do you want a morning, or afternoon appointment?"
Talk at a normal speed, at normal volume. The communication facilitator will tell you if they need you to slow down, or speak louder. Look at the deafblind person when you talk to them. Understand that there may be a slight delay while the message is being relayed.
Understand that the interpreter or relay operator will relay *everything*. This means, if you get a phone call from a person who is deafblind, and you turn to your coworker and say: "It's one of those stupid deaf people, can you take this call? I hate this sh*t." This conversation will be relayed to the deafblind person and you will look like a rude jackass. Same thing with an interpreter. If you whisper behind your hands and point at me, I will know about it. If you try to sneak pets of my service dog, when I have asked you to ignore her, I will know about that, too. If you sound pissed off that you have to talk to me, the communication facilitator will tell me. Treat me just like you would a sighted/hearing person. Maybe you are just consistently rude to everyone, but that has not been my experience. People say things about me, or too me, that they would never say if I were hearing. They make gestures at me, or try to do things that they'd never do if I could see. Then when I call them on it, they feel really stupid, angry and embarrassed.
If you are a business owner, you are required by law to take relay calls. There is no excuse valid enough to exempt you from the law. People have gone to court and have won against businesses who will not take relay calls. If you are a business owner, train your employees to be educated about this. Ignorance of the law is no excuse.
If a deafblind person is using an interpreter, everything the interpreter hears while working is privileged and will be kept confidential. Even if you are a family member or spouse of a person who is deafblind, the interpreter cannot share information with you about their client.
Ever since I started using the various kinds of communication facilitators, I have had some very interesting experiences. If I want to call and order a pizza, a task which takes hearing people two minutes takes me ten minutes-- if I'm super lucky. Sometimes it won't happen at all. I'm surprised at the number of people who will just stair at me in public if I use ASL. Many people have no compunction about telling me they are staring. My favorite was a lady, who was taking an ASL class. She was watching my conversation as some kind of self-test. Then she had to come up to me and tell me that she understood all of our conversation. And she acted like I should be proud of her. I said: "So... You get an A in eavesdropping on conversations which don't involve you, then?" The woman was mortified, and tried to make all kinds of excuses. I do admit to feeling a juvenile glee in her discomfort.
If you have stuck with me through this long entry, you deserve a cookie!
The first thing to remember is that the interpreter or relay communications operator is there for one purpose-- to facilitate communication for a person who is deaf blind. Just pretend they aren't there. This means using the correct pronouns. If you say "Does she want a morning or afternoon appointment?" the operator or interpreter will say exactly that, and I will look at you funny. Talk directly to the deafblind person, just like you would anybody else. "Do you want a morning, or afternoon appointment?"
Talk at a normal speed, at normal volume. The communication facilitator will tell you if they need you to slow down, or speak louder. Look at the deafblind person when you talk to them. Understand that there may be a slight delay while the message is being relayed.
Understand that the interpreter or relay operator will relay *everything*. This means, if you get a phone call from a person who is deafblind, and you turn to your coworker and say: "It's one of those stupid deaf people, can you take this call? I hate this sh*t." This conversation will be relayed to the deafblind person and you will look like a rude jackass. Same thing with an interpreter. If you whisper behind your hands and point at me, I will know about it. If you try to sneak pets of my service dog, when I have asked you to ignore her, I will know about that, too. If you sound pissed off that you have to talk to me, the communication facilitator will tell me. Treat me just like you would a sighted/hearing person. Maybe you are just consistently rude to everyone, but that has not been my experience. People say things about me, or too me, that they would never say if I were hearing. They make gestures at me, or try to do things that they'd never do if I could see. Then when I call them on it, they feel really stupid, angry and embarrassed.
If you are a business owner, you are required by law to take relay calls. There is no excuse valid enough to exempt you from the law. People have gone to court and have won against businesses who will not take relay calls. If you are a business owner, train your employees to be educated about this. Ignorance of the law is no excuse.
If a deafblind person is using an interpreter, everything the interpreter hears while working is privileged and will be kept confidential. Even if you are a family member or spouse of a person who is deafblind, the interpreter cannot share information with you about their client.
Ever since I started using the various kinds of communication facilitators, I have had some very interesting experiences. If I want to call and order a pizza, a task which takes hearing people two minutes takes me ten minutes-- if I'm super lucky. Sometimes it won't happen at all. I'm surprised at the number of people who will just stair at me in public if I use ASL. Many people have no compunction about telling me they are staring. My favorite was a lady, who was taking an ASL class. She was watching my conversation as some kind of self-test. Then she had to come up to me and tell me that she understood all of our conversation. And she acted like I should be proud of her. I said: "So... You get an A in eavesdropping on conversations which don't involve you, then?" The woman was mortified, and tried to make all kinds of excuses. I do admit to feeling a juvenile glee in her discomfort.
If you have stuck with me through this long entry, you deserve a cookie!
Sunday, June 17, 2012
How Many Retrievers could a Retriever Retrieve, if a Retriever Retrieved Retrievers?
For some time now, I've been realizing just how many things Mill'E-Max does for me through out the day. As she ages, I know that eventually she will get tired of being the house elf, at my every beck and call. After thinking about this, I started realizing all of the every day things she does for me, that I don't even really think about while she's doing them. And then I think about teaching all of this stuff to the next service dog, and my mind just boggles at the mir thought of this monumental task.
All in all, Mill'E-Max does six kinds of retrieving at different times through out the day. It's an awful lot once you break it down like this.
The first kind of retrieve is the Regular Working Retrieve. An example of this is when I drop something, and she gets it with a "take it" cue.
Second kind is the Named Retrieve. This is when she retrieves something by name. Some examples are shoes, Coke, leash, hearing aid, water bottle, phone, or her dish. (water bottle means my metal water bottle. Coke means any plastic bottle). She may have to search the house for the named objects in question before retrieving them.
The third kind of retrieve is the Matching Retrieve. Sometimes I want her to retrieve a specific item which has not been formally named. If I get a similar looking item and show her, she will search the house and find the thing that looks closest to the thing I showed her. This is helpful if Gracy has stolen an item of clothing to sleep with, and I can't find it. Gracy is actually the reason I trained this retrieve to begin with. I have used this retrieve to find everything from a medicine bottle to a laptop bag.
The next retrieve is the repeated retrieve. This is used if I need her to do something multiple times. This is used for things like unpacking suitcases, emptying the dryer, or helping me to unload groceries. It is not a one shot deal; several things need to be retrieved, usually not from the floor but "out of" something. She will either bring this to me, or put the item somewhere else.
One of the most useful retrieves is the Thinking Retrieve. All retrieving requires some thought but this relies upon the dogs observation and problem solving skills. Sometimes I will drop something which does not have a name, and which does not have a matching item. If I do this out of her sight, I still need her to get it. She needs to come into the room or area where I dropped said item, and search the room for the thing that doesn't belong. If something is in the wrong place, she will bring it to me if I ask.
The final kind of retrieve is the Retriever Retrieve. Bristol, my retired goddess has lost all of her hearing. when she is off leash somewhere, or in the back yard, Bristol may not see me sign to her, and can't feel the vibrations of me stomping to recall her. She wears a short traffic leash, and I can send Mill'E-Max out to grab Bristol's leash, and bring her back to me. This took a lot of training-- for both Mill'E-Max, who needed to learn to walk slowly, and pause before going up the steps, before bringing me the leash. Bristol needed to learn to trust Mill'E and how to walk with her.
Mill'E-Max performs between 20-30 retrieves a day. She has retrieved a dime from a hardwood floor, and has carried a gallon of laundry soap to the laundry shed. She used to love going to the mini-mart because I would let her carry one of the items the two blocks home. One time someone saw Mill'E-Max leave the store with a bag of chips in her mouth. The person went to store management, offering to pay for the chips. She assumed that Mill'E-Max had stolen them while I wasn't aware.
Mill'E-Max can have a sense of humor about retrieving. She likes to cary wrapping paper tubes in her mouth. She holds it by the end, and enjoys walking around the house making a ggrrr sound into the tube. She looks like a dog smoking the worlds biggest cigar. Also it is very hard not to collapse, helpless with laughter while she is walking around the house, tail furiously wagging, with this tube sticking about 2 feet out in front of her. I need to get video of this!
And that, my friends, is probably more than you ever wanted to know about the retriever who retrieves retrievers!
All in all, Mill'E-Max does six kinds of retrieving at different times through out the day. It's an awful lot once you break it down like this.
The first kind of retrieve is the Regular Working Retrieve. An example of this is when I drop something, and she gets it with a "take it" cue.
Second kind is the Named Retrieve. This is when she retrieves something by name. Some examples are shoes, Coke, leash, hearing aid, water bottle, phone, or her dish. (water bottle means my metal water bottle. Coke means any plastic bottle). She may have to search the house for the named objects in question before retrieving them.
The third kind of retrieve is the Matching Retrieve. Sometimes I want her to retrieve a specific item which has not been formally named. If I get a similar looking item and show her, she will search the house and find the thing that looks closest to the thing I showed her. This is helpful if Gracy has stolen an item of clothing to sleep with, and I can't find it. Gracy is actually the reason I trained this retrieve to begin with. I have used this retrieve to find everything from a medicine bottle to a laptop bag.
The next retrieve is the repeated retrieve. This is used if I need her to do something multiple times. This is used for things like unpacking suitcases, emptying the dryer, or helping me to unload groceries. It is not a one shot deal; several things need to be retrieved, usually not from the floor but "out of" something. She will either bring this to me, or put the item somewhere else.
One of the most useful retrieves is the Thinking Retrieve. All retrieving requires some thought but this relies upon the dogs observation and problem solving skills. Sometimes I will drop something which does not have a name, and which does not have a matching item. If I do this out of her sight, I still need her to get it. She needs to come into the room or area where I dropped said item, and search the room for the thing that doesn't belong. If something is in the wrong place, she will bring it to me if I ask.
The final kind of retrieve is the Retriever Retrieve. Bristol, my retired goddess has lost all of her hearing. when she is off leash somewhere, or in the back yard, Bristol may not see me sign to her, and can't feel the vibrations of me stomping to recall her. She wears a short traffic leash, and I can send Mill'E-Max out to grab Bristol's leash, and bring her back to me. This took a lot of training-- for both Mill'E-Max, who needed to learn to walk slowly, and pause before going up the steps, before bringing me the leash. Bristol needed to learn to trust Mill'E and how to walk with her.
Mill'E-Max performs between 20-30 retrieves a day. She has retrieved a dime from a hardwood floor, and has carried a gallon of laundry soap to the laundry shed. She used to love going to the mini-mart because I would let her carry one of the items the two blocks home. One time someone saw Mill'E-Max leave the store with a bag of chips in her mouth. The person went to store management, offering to pay for the chips. She assumed that Mill'E-Max had stolen them while I wasn't aware.
Mill'E-Max can have a sense of humor about retrieving. She likes to cary wrapping paper tubes in her mouth. She holds it by the end, and enjoys walking around the house making a ggrrr sound into the tube. She looks like a dog smoking the worlds biggest cigar. Also it is very hard not to collapse, helpless with laughter while she is walking around the house, tail furiously wagging, with this tube sticking about 2 feet out in front of her. I need to get video of this!
And that, my friends, is probably more than you ever wanted to know about the retriever who retrieves retrievers!
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Morning Chaos
This morning, things were going along rather smoothly, for a morning, that is. I'm not really a morning person. Because of this fact, I tend to do everything the night before so I don't have to do any thinking before I have my tea. Since I don't get my tea until I get to work, I am basically on autopilot until around 8 am.
This fine morning, I woke up, toileted the girls, fed them, got ready to go, packed all of my gizmos-- Braille Note, iPhone and its accompanying display, meds, lunch, etc. etc. My bus usually comes around 7:30. I finished getting ready around 7:20, and went to put on my hearing aid... only it wasn't in its usual spot in my top drawer.
Thus began the mad search. I first tried a sort of half-assed search, hoping it just got jostled a bit and I could find it quickly. I soon realized that this was not going to happen. Around 7:22, Mill'E came up to me and alerted to the arrival of my bus. She was quickly followed by Laveau alerting to the same, then Gracy who is here for a visit, but who obviously still remembered how to alert. And I ask you, how the heck am I supposed to find anything if I have three dogs telling me the same thing over and over again?
Part of it was the driver who seems to have an unnatural love of his horn-- he loves to honk it. Several hearing people have noticed this and commented upon it to me.
So the whole thing went something like this.
Me: *starts taking things out of drawers*
Driver: *honks horn*
Mill'E-Max: *nudge nudge!* "Bus is here!"
Me: *acknowledges Mill'E-Max and begins sorting through contents of drawer, removing various items.*
Laveau: *nudge nudge!* "Bus is here!"
Me: *acknowledges her, and begins removing more drawer contents... lip balms (why do I have four tubes of the stuff?) lotion, allergy meds etc.*
Gracy: *nudge nudge!* "Bus is here!"
Me: *acknowledges Gracy, grits teeth, thinks fluffy bunny positive trainer thoughts. Searches through more stuff-- puts Bristol's eye drops in pocket so as not to forget to do them before leaving*
Driver: *honk! honk!*
Mill'E-Max: *nudge nudge!*
RINSE! REPEAT!!!!
Eventually, I found the damned hearing aid, got my dog harnessed, and my iPod set to play music for my dogs while I'm at work. While I was plugging the iPod into the speaker thingy which is on Baylee's crate, I managed to lock Gracy in there, some how! I only realized this upon my arrival home and not finding her anywhere, which freaked me out and caused me to think she had died, or something.
I also forgot to give Bristol her eye drops because I got so flustered from all of the honking and searching, and nudging.
So now I'm home early to give Bristol eye drops and to let Gracy out of the crate.
Woo! What a morning!
This fine morning, I woke up, toileted the girls, fed them, got ready to go, packed all of my gizmos-- Braille Note, iPhone and its accompanying display, meds, lunch, etc. etc. My bus usually comes around 7:30. I finished getting ready around 7:20, and went to put on my hearing aid... only it wasn't in its usual spot in my top drawer.
Thus began the mad search. I first tried a sort of half-assed search, hoping it just got jostled a bit and I could find it quickly. I soon realized that this was not going to happen. Around 7:22, Mill'E came up to me and alerted to the arrival of my bus. She was quickly followed by Laveau alerting to the same, then Gracy who is here for a visit, but who obviously still remembered how to alert. And I ask you, how the heck am I supposed to find anything if I have three dogs telling me the same thing over and over again?
Part of it was the driver who seems to have an unnatural love of his horn-- he loves to honk it. Several hearing people have noticed this and commented upon it to me.
So the whole thing went something like this.
Me: *starts taking things out of drawers*
Driver: *honks horn*
Mill'E-Max: *nudge nudge!* "Bus is here!"
Me: *acknowledges Mill'E-Max and begins sorting through contents of drawer, removing various items.*
Laveau: *nudge nudge!* "Bus is here!"
Me: *acknowledges her, and begins removing more drawer contents... lip balms (why do I have four tubes of the stuff?) lotion, allergy meds etc.*
Gracy: *nudge nudge!* "Bus is here!"
Me: *acknowledges Gracy, grits teeth, thinks fluffy bunny positive trainer thoughts. Searches through more stuff-- puts Bristol's eye drops in pocket so as not to forget to do them before leaving*
Driver: *honk! honk!*
Mill'E-Max: *nudge nudge!*
RINSE! REPEAT!!!!
Eventually, I found the damned hearing aid, got my dog harnessed, and my iPod set to play music for my dogs while I'm at work. While I was plugging the iPod into the speaker thingy which is on Baylee's crate, I managed to lock Gracy in there, some how! I only realized this upon my arrival home and not finding her anywhere, which freaked me out and caused me to think she had died, or something.
I also forgot to give Bristol her eye drops because I got so flustered from all of the honking and searching, and nudging.
So now I'm home early to give Bristol eye drops and to let Gracy out of the crate.
Woo! What a morning!
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Doggie Drivel; What's in a Name?
So dog/cat owners, I have a question for you. I've kind of been wondering this for a while, and decided to ask. It seems, Some of my dogs will end up with a nickname which doesn't faintly resemble their given name. But I say it so often that they respond to that name also. It hasn't happened with all of the dogs, but the two best examples are Gracy and Baylee.
Gracy is also known as "The Cheez" or "Cheez Wizard." There are millions of adaptations of "Cheez" but where did I get Cheese to begin with? Gracy some how got stuck with an additional name after I adopted her, and became Gracy Louise. I was living near to a Baskin Robins' store at the time, and got their Cheese Louise ice-cream, and liked it, so then Gracy Louise Became Gracy Cheese Louise. And there you go.
With a name like Baylee, you knew the Herbalist would call her dog things like Bay Leaf, Sweet Bay, and Bay Laurel, but the most frequent name was Bay Rum. Bay Rum became Rum Punch, and is now Rummy Rum Punch.
Last week, I was sitting on the porch with my friend and without thinking, I said: "RummY Rum Punch, sit!" And my friend looked at me like I was crazy! Who, exactly was I talking to? So I had to explain about the nicknames thing, and he thought that was weird. But I don't think I'm alone in making crazy nicknames with these huge long stories and meanings behind them, am I? Help me out here, Blogville!
I mean, not all of my dogs have these long Nicknames. Laveau has the least of them with "Veau Head" being her only Nickname. Which doesn't count for things like "Sister," "Girl," or "Chica." Which I call all of them. Am I just crazy? Do I want you to answer that? I think I'm becoming "That crazy dog lady."
Gracy is also known as "The Cheez" or "Cheez Wizard." There are millions of adaptations of "Cheez" but where did I get Cheese to begin with? Gracy some how got stuck with an additional name after I adopted her, and became Gracy Louise. I was living near to a Baskin Robins' store at the time, and got their Cheese Louise ice-cream, and liked it, so then Gracy Louise Became Gracy Cheese Louise. And there you go.
With a name like Baylee, you knew the Herbalist would call her dog things like Bay Leaf, Sweet Bay, and Bay Laurel, but the most frequent name was Bay Rum. Bay Rum became Rum Punch, and is now Rummy Rum Punch.
Last week, I was sitting on the porch with my friend and without thinking, I said: "RummY Rum Punch, sit!" And my friend looked at me like I was crazy! Who, exactly was I talking to? So I had to explain about the nicknames thing, and he thought that was weird. But I don't think I'm alone in making crazy nicknames with these huge long stories and meanings behind them, am I? Help me out here, Blogville!
I mean, not all of my dogs have these long Nicknames. Laveau has the least of them with "Veau Head" being her only Nickname. Which doesn't count for things like "Sister," "Girl," or "Chica." Which I call all of them. Am I just crazy? Do I want you to answer that? I think I'm becoming "That crazy dog lady."
Monday, June 4, 2012
Deafblind Awareness Week: Communication, baby!
June is National Deafblind Awareness Month. I had all of these plans about different things I could do in my blog to bring attention to Deafblindness and ASL.
And then life happened and I have been busy. But I'm trying.
Thursday I'm attending the 4th annual
<"Helen Keller Deafblind Awareness Day">
We are doing a tour of where I work, and then having a lunch and going to the French Quarter.
People may be thinking how something like this works-- a huge gathering of Deafblind people, who by nature of their condition must only have communication with one person at a time.
So the way this works is that ideally, each Deafblind person would have an SSP or interpreter or two. Two is the best so they can switch out and take breaks. These interpreters or SSPs do several things. They interpret the speaker's words. Even if the speaker, themselves is Deaf or Deafblind, and using ASL, we can't see it, so we need an interpreter to interpret what is being signed. People use ASL tactually, where we actually touch the hands of our interpreters. This is some of the most exhausting work for an interpreter. They usually have a partner so they can give each other breaks. It is just as exhausting for the Deafblind person, because there is only one of us. I am using muscles I didn't even know I had until I became Deaf!
Some deafblind people are hard of hearing and can use speech for communication. They might use a Cochlear implant or hearing aid paired with a sound loop or an FM system, to wirelessly hear the words. If the person who is presenting is voicing for themselves, they will talk into a microphone so everyone can hear, but if the presenter is Deaf using ASL, the person who is hard of hearing will have the words interpreted back into English and spoken into the microphone of their FM System.
Some Deafblind people can see well enough to read ASL visually. Their interpreters use close space signing, where they sign in a smaller area and may need certain lighting accommodations so that the Deafblind person can best make use of their remaining sight. Tracking is where a Deafblind person places their hands atop the signer's wrists. It's kind of like the bridge between close space signing and tactual signing.
Then again, some Deafblind people can see well enough to see the platform interpreter on the stage. It is also there for the people who are Deaf and sighted. So there are a lot of people, requiring all kind of communication styles. It is always so neat to see how it all works. The SSPs also help with things like getting the plates for people, orienting a person to their food on the plate, interpreting any spoken conversation at the table.
Usually when I go to events like this, everyone at the lunch table says who they are, where from, and if they are Deafblind, Hearing/interpreter, SSP, Deaf, or blind and hearing, etc.
I really like eating lunch with Deafblind people because I don't feel like eating is this huge stressful thing to accomplish before I have to stop so I can participate with hearing people.
After the lunch, we are all going to the French Quarter. I love playing tourist there! It is so much fun. I hope I can get lots of pictures taken.
I will try and post something about Deafblindness every few days. If you have any questions, nows the time to ask 'em. I don't want to write about things that people have heard before.
And then life happened and I have been busy. But I'm trying.
Thursday I'm attending the 4th annual
<"Helen Keller Deafblind Awareness Day">
We are doing a tour of where I work, and then having a lunch and going to the French Quarter.
People may be thinking how something like this works-- a huge gathering of Deafblind people, who by nature of their condition must only have communication with one person at a time.
So the way this works is that ideally, each Deafblind person would have an SSP or interpreter or two. Two is the best so they can switch out and take breaks. These interpreters or SSPs do several things. They interpret the speaker's words. Even if the speaker, themselves is Deaf or Deafblind, and using ASL, we can't see it, so we need an interpreter to interpret what is being signed. People use ASL tactually, where we actually touch the hands of our interpreters. This is some of the most exhausting work for an interpreter. They usually have a partner so they can give each other breaks. It is just as exhausting for the Deafblind person, because there is only one of us. I am using muscles I didn't even know I had until I became Deaf!
Some deafblind people are hard of hearing and can use speech for communication. They might use a Cochlear implant or hearing aid paired with a sound loop or an FM system, to wirelessly hear the words. If the person who is presenting is voicing for themselves, they will talk into a microphone so everyone can hear, but if the presenter is Deaf using ASL, the person who is hard of hearing will have the words interpreted back into English and spoken into the microphone of their FM System.
Some Deafblind people can see well enough to read ASL visually. Their interpreters use close space signing, where they sign in a smaller area and may need certain lighting accommodations so that the Deafblind person can best make use of their remaining sight. Tracking is where a Deafblind person places their hands atop the signer's wrists. It's kind of like the bridge between close space signing and tactual signing.
Then again, some Deafblind people can see well enough to see the platform interpreter on the stage. It is also there for the people who are Deaf and sighted. So there are a lot of people, requiring all kind of communication styles. It is always so neat to see how it all works. The SSPs also help with things like getting the plates for people, orienting a person to their food on the plate, interpreting any spoken conversation at the table.
Usually when I go to events like this, everyone at the lunch table says who they are, where from, and if they are Deafblind, Hearing/interpreter, SSP, Deaf, or blind and hearing, etc.
I really like eating lunch with Deafblind people because I don't feel like eating is this huge stressful thing to accomplish before I have to stop so I can participate with hearing people.
After the lunch, we are all going to the French Quarter. I love playing tourist there! It is so much fun. I hope I can get lots of pictures taken.
I will try and post something about Deafblindness every few days. If you have any questions, nows the time to ask 'em. I don't want to write about things that people have heard before.
Monday, May 28, 2012
Memorial
Lets face it, for many of us, Memorial Day isn't really about Memorials. It's about barbecues, swimming, and welcoming in the summer season. I'm no exception to this. Although I try to spend a little bit of time during the day reflecting on the sacrifices of our troops, I don't really do as much as I could.
This Memorial Day is a bit different for me. It is the first one without my Grandpa. He passed away from complications of cancer last month. I flew to Montana to attend his funeral and to be with my family. My Grandpa was many things to many people, but he took pride in his service in the Army during WWII. If you'd like to read more about his life, you can read his
<"Obituary">
The active Military part of his life was long over by the time I came along. I remember him best in his boat. When we would come to visit, he'd take us fishing. We'd get up at the crack of dawn and My sisters and I would climb into my Grandpa's old truck, smashed in the middle between my Grandpa and my Dad. My Grandpa always brought his thermos of coffee, and we'd stop at the gas station for juice and Oreo Cookies to take with us before heading on to the lake.
We would pull up to the dock and my sisters and I would wait, for what seemed like an eternity for my Dad and Grandpa to unhitch the boat from the back of the truck and get it into the water. Then we'd all climb aboard and watch the shoreline recede as my Grandpa drove us out into the middle of the lake.
One of my favorite memories of my Grandpa was the time he let me drive his boat. I remember my hand on the wheel, and my Grandpa standing over me, giving me direction. It was one of the only times I've ever gotten to drive. We didn't catch fish every time, but we always had fun.
It was hard for me to communicate with my family at some of the big dinners before the funeral. My Dad got me an interpreter for the service, for which I'm very thankful.
After the service, we drove to the Fort Harrison Cemetery where my Grandpa was buried with Military Honors.
The grass was brown, and it seemed to stretch on forever. The Montana big sky was cloudy and gray. The wind blew, and it really struck me-- when we left, we would be leaving him here, in this barren wintry place. He would not be waiting at his house, he would not be waiting around the next corner, or through another door. He was gone.
After the guns finished firing, the bugler played Taps. It is a very simple song, one most people probably don't appreciate much. But as I stood there, in the cold of our communal loss, I heard the bugle call across the lonely Montana land. I heard him play the song. And the lyrics sprung to my mind.
Day is done, gone the sun
From the lakes, from the hills, from the sky
All is well, safely rest
God is nigh.
Fading light dims the sight
And a star gems the sky, gleaming bright
From afar, drawing near
Falls the night.
Thanks and praise for our days
Neath the sun, neath the stars, neath the sky
As we go, this we know
God is nigh.
--Horace Lorenzo Trim
This Memorial Day is a bit different for me. It is the first one without my Grandpa. He passed away from complications of cancer last month. I flew to Montana to attend his funeral and to be with my family. My Grandpa was many things to many people, but he took pride in his service in the Army during WWII. If you'd like to read more about his life, you can read his
<"Obituary">
The active Military part of his life was long over by the time I came along. I remember him best in his boat. When we would come to visit, he'd take us fishing. We'd get up at the crack of dawn and My sisters and I would climb into my Grandpa's old truck, smashed in the middle between my Grandpa and my Dad. My Grandpa always brought his thermos of coffee, and we'd stop at the gas station for juice and Oreo Cookies to take with us before heading on to the lake.
We would pull up to the dock and my sisters and I would wait, for what seemed like an eternity for my Dad and Grandpa to unhitch the boat from the back of the truck and get it into the water. Then we'd all climb aboard and watch the shoreline recede as my Grandpa drove us out into the middle of the lake.
One of my favorite memories of my Grandpa was the time he let me drive his boat. I remember my hand on the wheel, and my Grandpa standing over me, giving me direction. It was one of the only times I've ever gotten to drive. We didn't catch fish every time, but we always had fun.
It was hard for me to communicate with my family at some of the big dinners before the funeral. My Dad got me an interpreter for the service, for which I'm very thankful.
After the service, we drove to the Fort Harrison Cemetery where my Grandpa was buried with Military Honors.
The grass was brown, and it seemed to stretch on forever. The Montana big sky was cloudy and gray. The wind blew, and it really struck me-- when we left, we would be leaving him here, in this barren wintry place. He would not be waiting at his house, he would not be waiting around the next corner, or through another door. He was gone.
After the guns finished firing, the bugler played Taps. It is a very simple song, one most people probably don't appreciate much. But as I stood there, in the cold of our communal loss, I heard the bugle call across the lonely Montana land. I heard him play the song. And the lyrics sprung to my mind.
Day is done, gone the sun
From the lakes, from the hills, from the sky
All is well, safely rest
God is nigh.
Fading light dims the sight
And a star gems the sky, gleaming bright
From afar, drawing near
Falls the night.
Thanks and praise for our days
Neath the sun, neath the stars, neath the sky
As we go, this we know
God is nigh.
--Horace Lorenzo Trim
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Confessions of a Dewclaw Killer
My porch looks like a crime scene, and if you were to ask Laveau, she'd tell you that this is exactly what it is. Laveau was growing herself some funktastic nail action. I mean she had some serious Drucilla nails. I had been meaning to cut them, but it seems like lately the moment I'd decide to cut them something else would need to be done and it would get pushed aside.
So today I decided that it had to be done and after lunch, I adjourned to the front porch. We started into reducing the nail-funk quotient by half. Everything was going along just fine. I had my nail clippers, and my styptic stuff, and the clicker with a big bag of treats. See, I'm a good trainer, or I'm mainly just imitating one and hope it rubs off on me!
It was going really well, until I got to her left dewclaw. I had done all her other nails by this point and was almost done. I put the nail through the hole, bent down to click and Laveau jumped, and then I cut.
What followed afterward was just repeated bouts of bleeding and stypticing (Laveau did the bleeding and I stypticed). And I swore a lot and felt really terrible and wanted to fall through the porch into the scary place under the house where the feral cats live. Ugh! I suck!
Eventually (PAH!) she stopped bleeding and then I let her go inside. I brought out Bristol, and out her clipped without issue. (Huge sigh of relief)!
It's thundering out and since Mill'E-Max has gotten kind of thunderphobic in her olden golden years, I really don't want to pick this time to clip her nails. Mister Pawpower has decided Baylee's claws are fine for now and that he and I would benefit from the judicious application of beverages which contain fermented grain products.
So today I decided that it had to be done and after lunch, I adjourned to the front porch. We started into reducing the nail-funk quotient by half. Everything was going along just fine. I had my nail clippers, and my styptic stuff, and the clicker with a big bag of treats. See, I'm a good trainer, or I'm mainly just imitating one and hope it rubs off on me!
It was going really well, until I got to her left dewclaw. I had done all her other nails by this point and was almost done. I put the nail through the hole, bent down to click and Laveau jumped, and then I cut.
What followed afterward was just repeated bouts of bleeding and stypticing (Laveau did the bleeding and I stypticed). And I swore a lot and felt really terrible and wanted to fall through the porch into the scary place under the house where the feral cats live. Ugh! I suck!
Eventually (PAH!) she stopped bleeding and then I let her go inside. I brought out Bristol, and out her clipped without issue. (Huge sigh of relief)!
It's thundering out and since Mill'E-Max has gotten kind of thunderphobic in her olden golden years, I really don't want to pick this time to clip her nails. Mister Pawpower has decided Baylee's claws are fine for now and that he and I would benefit from the judicious application of beverages which contain fermented grain products.
Saturday, May 19, 2012
Whoops!
I'm trying to get used to this new commenting system for Blogspot, and I think I accidentally deleted some of y'all's comments. I think I've figured the commenting system out, but I don't know how to restore the deleted comments. My humble apologies to my readers! It's not you-- it's me! Promise! :D
You're doing it wrong!
I really am beginning to think that the average American has watched far too many specials on Animal Planet or PBS about service dogs. People seem to think that they are now equipped with the knowledge of how service dogs work, how they should be acting, what they can or cannot do, and how the dog must think or feel. And they just can't wait to educate me, because obviously... I'M DOING IT WRONG!
The other day, I was in an outdoor mall with Laveau. We were going at a pretty good clip when my arm brushed against a pipe at shoulder level. It was really a light brush which I hardly felt, however I guess it made quite a bit of noise. Upon hearing the sound, Laveau stopped and saw what had happened. I didn't say anything-- rather I chose to go back about six feet and let her have another go passed the pipe. I told her "forward" and the second time she walked by it and made sure I cleared it.
A man stopped us, and proceeded to tell me how I was too easy on my dog, and how if I don't "show her who's alpha" and "punish her mistakes" that she would "take the boss role in our relationship." and how "she must not be fully trained if she's still making mistakes like that."
I really and truly wanted to scream at this person and start hitting him about the head and neck with the very pipe on the wall. First of all, dogs are dogs. No matter how much training they have, no matter how hard a person works with them, they are still dogs and they make mistakes. Yes, even service dogs with a huge vocabulary and who perform complex behavior chains are still dogs and they have bad days sometimes. Expecting them to be perfect is unfair to the dog and is just completely unreasonable. Is anything else in this world perfect? I didn't think so. Why then is a service dog expected to be the exemption to that law of the universe?
Secondly, my dog, being a dog, made an honest mistake. She knew she made an honest mistake right after she made it. She did better the second time and she remembers about the pipe every time we pass that area and has never run me into it again. Bossing her around and tearing her down just because she made a mistake is cruel and unnecessary. I don't show leadership by being an asshole; I show leadership through compassionate understanding and through faith and pride in her work.
Then, on the other side of the spectrum, we have the lady I ran into last week. Laveau and I were walking to the store. Laveau works this rout frequently and was bored. She wasn't paying attention and was repeatedly making a lot of stupid little mistakes. Finally she brushed me off on one planter box too many and I stopped. I tapped the box, and asked her for targeting behaviors, and some obedience. I made her rework it and I stopped again and asked for more cued behaviors. The lady coming down the street thought I was "mean to make her do the same thing with her again" and that it was "only a little scratch," from running into the planter.
Dogs, like people, will never grow to improve if someone does not hold us accountable for our mistakes. She can do the work and if she is not working, I will find out why, and if it is simply out of boredom, well that's too bad. Life isn't always exciting, and while I try to keep work fun for her, sometimes it just isn't and she will be expected to put on her metaphorical big dog underpants and work anyway.
Then we have the fine example of the human idiot whom we met in the coffee shop this morning. Mister Pawpower and I, along with Baylee and Laveau, walked to the coffee shop for some tea. We were standing in line, when a lady started asking why our dogs weren't wagging their tails. She kept wanting to know why they weren't happy and what was wrong with them and was frankly, rather obnoxious about it.
I don't know about you all, but I hardly find waiting in lines to be the most exciting way to spend my time. My dog feels the same way, I'm sure. I don't know where people get these crazy ideas about the way dogs feel. No, service dogs don't wag their tails night and day. They are dogs and they wag about as much as the average dog. If this lady thought being in a coffee shop was that exciting, then she should wag her own tail!
By and large, my interactions with the public aren't this stressful and negative. I just really wish that people would realize that watching a program on television, doesn't make them an expert on service dogs. Just because you know someone with a service dog, and spend time with them, that does not make you an expert on service dogs. Volunteering your time as a puppy raiser for a program does not make you an expert on my service dog. The only expert on my relationship with my service dog is me. If I need assistance or if I want an opinion about a training issue, I will ask for it from someone I trust. The average person on the street should mind their own business.
The other day, I was in an outdoor mall with Laveau. We were going at a pretty good clip when my arm brushed against a pipe at shoulder level. It was really a light brush which I hardly felt, however I guess it made quite a bit of noise. Upon hearing the sound, Laveau stopped and saw what had happened. I didn't say anything-- rather I chose to go back about six feet and let her have another go passed the pipe. I told her "forward" and the second time she walked by it and made sure I cleared it.
A man stopped us, and proceeded to tell me how I was too easy on my dog, and how if I don't "show her who's alpha" and "punish her mistakes" that she would "take the boss role in our relationship." and how "she must not be fully trained if she's still making mistakes like that."
I really and truly wanted to scream at this person and start hitting him about the head and neck with the very pipe on the wall. First of all, dogs are dogs. No matter how much training they have, no matter how hard a person works with them, they are still dogs and they make mistakes. Yes, even service dogs with a huge vocabulary and who perform complex behavior chains are still dogs and they have bad days sometimes. Expecting them to be perfect is unfair to the dog and is just completely unreasonable. Is anything else in this world perfect? I didn't think so. Why then is a service dog expected to be the exemption to that law of the universe?
Secondly, my dog, being a dog, made an honest mistake. She knew she made an honest mistake right after she made it. She did better the second time and she remembers about the pipe every time we pass that area and has never run me into it again. Bossing her around and tearing her down just because she made a mistake is cruel and unnecessary. I don't show leadership by being an asshole; I show leadership through compassionate understanding and through faith and pride in her work.
Then, on the other side of the spectrum, we have the lady I ran into last week. Laveau and I were walking to the store. Laveau works this rout frequently and was bored. She wasn't paying attention and was repeatedly making a lot of stupid little mistakes. Finally she brushed me off on one planter box too many and I stopped. I tapped the box, and asked her for targeting behaviors, and some obedience. I made her rework it and I stopped again and asked for more cued behaviors. The lady coming down the street thought I was "mean to make her do the same thing with her again" and that it was "only a little scratch," from running into the planter.
Dogs, like people, will never grow to improve if someone does not hold us accountable for our mistakes. She can do the work and if she is not working, I will find out why, and if it is simply out of boredom, well that's too bad. Life isn't always exciting, and while I try to keep work fun for her, sometimes it just isn't and she will be expected to put on her metaphorical big dog underpants and work anyway.
Then we have the fine example of the human idiot whom we met in the coffee shop this morning. Mister Pawpower and I, along with Baylee and Laveau, walked to the coffee shop for some tea. We were standing in line, when a lady started asking why our dogs weren't wagging their tails. She kept wanting to know why they weren't happy and what was wrong with them and was frankly, rather obnoxious about it.
I don't know about you all, but I hardly find waiting in lines to be the most exciting way to spend my time. My dog feels the same way, I'm sure. I don't know where people get these crazy ideas about the way dogs feel. No, service dogs don't wag their tails night and day. They are dogs and they wag about as much as the average dog. If this lady thought being in a coffee shop was that exciting, then she should wag her own tail!
By and large, my interactions with the public aren't this stressful and negative. I just really wish that people would realize that watching a program on television, doesn't make them an expert on service dogs. Just because you know someone with a service dog, and spend time with them, that does not make you an expert on service dogs. Volunteering your time as a puppy raiser for a program does not make you an expert on my service dog. The only expert on my relationship with my service dog is me. If I need assistance or if I want an opinion about a training issue, I will ask for it from someone I trust. The average person on the street should mind their own business.
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Randomness on the half-shell
I wanted to mention that by popular demand I signed up for this service called Audio Boo. It's like... audio blogging! I know, strange thing to do if one is deaf, but no more strange than being blind and having a FlickR page! There are three entries up right now-- all dog related. To listen, go
<"here">
I also wanted to remind my readers that Bayou Baylee, the youngest, and by far the sassiest, member of the Pawpower pack has her own blog. If you want to check it out she is
<"Over Here">
An essay from my blog has also been featured over at
<"The Vision Through Words Blog">
Go and enjoy all of the informative and wonderful articles on the blog, if you have a moment.
On a totally random note, I got a wand blender from Amazon. It is this long skinny stick with a blade at the end and you can use it to make all kinds of things like pie fillings, or smoothies or whatever. I have been making tea smoothies! I take a 12 ounce container, fill it half way with iced tea and half way with fruit, and give it a spin. I use Ceylon tea brewed with herbs from my little plant garden. I also add the juice of a lemon or lime.
It is very yummy and healthy. I don't add any extra sugar, although Mister Pawpower has been known to add some. I'm searching for another excuse to use my new toy, so any recipe ideas will be much appreciated.
As you know from reading the paragraph above, you see that my plants are still alive and kicking. Well they have not started to kick as of yet and truthfully I hope they don't! But they have grown and spread and I have used the mints and the lemon balm in teas. I am also thinking of adding to my collection-- my next purchases will be a dill weed, some cilantro, and oregano. See, you can teach an old dog new tricks after all!
<"here">
I also wanted to remind my readers that Bayou Baylee, the youngest, and by far the sassiest, member of the Pawpower pack has her own blog. If you want to check it out she is
<"Over Here">
An essay from my blog has also been featured over at
<"The Vision Through Words Blog">
Go and enjoy all of the informative and wonderful articles on the blog, if you have a moment.
On a totally random note, I got a wand blender from Amazon. It is this long skinny stick with a blade at the end and you can use it to make all kinds of things like pie fillings, or smoothies or whatever. I have been making tea smoothies! I take a 12 ounce container, fill it half way with iced tea and half way with fruit, and give it a spin. I use Ceylon tea brewed with herbs from my little plant garden. I also add the juice of a lemon or lime.
It is very yummy and healthy. I don't add any extra sugar, although Mister Pawpower has been known to add some. I'm searching for another excuse to use my new toy, so any recipe ideas will be much appreciated.
As you know from reading the paragraph above, you see that my plants are still alive and kicking. Well they have not started to kick as of yet and truthfully I hope they don't! But they have grown and spread and I have used the mints and the lemon balm in teas. I am also thinking of adding to my collection-- my next purchases will be a dill weed, some cilantro, and oregano. See, you can teach an old dog new tricks after all!
Don't Panic!
I think every deafblind person needs a manual. A sort of "how to" of deafblind life. I'd call it the Hitchhiker's Guide to your crazy new DEAFBLIND Adventure! And it would have all kinds of helpful sections in it, explaining everything from how to make a relay call to the best way to find an interpreter at an event in another state. This book would be overflowing with informational tidbits, and it would come with a bonus section for deafblind professionals and our particular situations. Don't Panic!
I really could have used this book today when I was asked to attend a lunch meeting. The concept of a lunch meeting is pretty smart-- if you're hearing, or sighted and can gather the information being presented with either eyes or ears, and can use your hands to eat. Since I have yet to grow the additional pair of arms I have been requesting, I don't do lunch meetings very well. I've found my best strategy is to arrive early, try to be first for food, go off to my corner and eat as much as I can before it starts. Even better than that would be to eat ahead of time, but usually the mornings on the days of lunch meetings are jam packed and I don't have time to eat. Such was the case for today.
I arrived early, get in line and grab my plate. Lunch for today is salad, chicken breast, and fruit. This is not good because meals where I have to use my fork and knife like a civilized adult take longer to eat than a sandwich which is also easier to save should I be unable to have any before the meeting starts. My interpreter finds me a corner where I sit down and begin to eat. I get about half way done with my salad, and am about two bites into my chicken which is actually good-- unlike most of the stuff that is served at meetings of this nature, no matter your location. I go to take another bite when my interpreter taps me on the arm, indicating we are about to start. No more eating for me, my 2.5 minutes are up and it's time to participate in the meeting and secretly regret that Santa did not see fit to bless me with even one more arm because I did not eat breakfast and would like to have some fruit.
But business waits for no man, or woman and so we are off! ... until my interpreter-- in an over-exuberant use of elbows- knocks my glass of tea into my chicken and in one swift motion, unites the two, in a fit of tea-flavored chicken goodness. The interpreters switch out, and another one takes the place of the one I had while he runs for napkins to clean up the mess. There went my lunch! Oh well, I didn't have time to eat it anyway! And at least this time it wasn't me who did it!
I was really hungry when I finally arrived home! Good thing Mister Pawpower made me pork enchiladas! They were better than chicken any old day!
I really could have used this book today when I was asked to attend a lunch meeting. The concept of a lunch meeting is pretty smart-- if you're hearing, or sighted and can gather the information being presented with either eyes or ears, and can use your hands to eat. Since I have yet to grow the additional pair of arms I have been requesting, I don't do lunch meetings very well. I've found my best strategy is to arrive early, try to be first for food, go off to my corner and eat as much as I can before it starts. Even better than that would be to eat ahead of time, but usually the mornings on the days of lunch meetings are jam packed and I don't have time to eat. Such was the case for today.
I arrived early, get in line and grab my plate. Lunch for today is salad, chicken breast, and fruit. This is not good because meals where I have to use my fork and knife like a civilized adult take longer to eat than a sandwich which is also easier to save should I be unable to have any before the meeting starts. My interpreter finds me a corner where I sit down and begin to eat. I get about half way done with my salad, and am about two bites into my chicken which is actually good-- unlike most of the stuff that is served at meetings of this nature, no matter your location. I go to take another bite when my interpreter taps me on the arm, indicating we are about to start. No more eating for me, my 2.5 minutes are up and it's time to participate in the meeting and secretly regret that Santa did not see fit to bless me with even one more arm because I did not eat breakfast and would like to have some fruit.
But business waits for no man, or woman and so we are off! ... until my interpreter-- in an over-exuberant use of elbows- knocks my glass of tea into my chicken and in one swift motion, unites the two, in a fit of tea-flavored chicken goodness. The interpreters switch out, and another one takes the place of the one I had while he runs for napkins to clean up the mess. There went my lunch! Oh well, I didn't have time to eat it anyway! And at least this time it wasn't me who did it!
I was really hungry when I finally arrived home! Good thing Mister Pawpower made me pork enchiladas! They were better than chicken any old day!
Sunday, May 13, 2012
To Read
When I was in first grade, my class took a field trip to the Public Library. I remember that library smell-- dust, and paper, mixed with the aroma of focused silence. We trooped around, looking at the brightly colored books. I don't remember anything of what the teacher or the librarian said, but I do remember how I felt. After the talk, explaining the library and probably the Dewey Decimal System (something I still do not understand to this day), all of my classmates broke up into small groups to explore. I sat, on a hard wooden chair and waited to go home. It's the only time in my life I've ever wished to be sighted.
I could read using a closed-circuit television (CCTV) which magnified the text of a book onto a screen. While I managed to get my school work done using this device, it left little time, nor inclination, to read for pleasure, so I didn't. But I always wanted to read, just like the other kids in my class, I wanted to look at the different books, pick out a few, and take them home.
The reading opportunities for people with print-related disabilities have expanded a great deal in the last twenty years. We have
<"The Library for the Blind and Physically Handicapped">
and
<"Book Share">
As well as other options.
We can get books on tape or CD, in Daisy format, either audio or print, in specially formatted files for braille displays, and in MP3 format to put on an iPod or one of the small special-made reading devices for hearing blind people. We could even buy a regular print book, and scan it with a flat-bed scanner if we had one, or had the time to do that.
It's only been very recently that we have had truly instant access to books equal with our sighted peers.
A few months ago, I started a series of fiction books. I read about ten in this series before I got to a stopping point. The next book in the series was not available. I searched, I asked friends if they knew where I could get this particular book. I have more than enough books to stop reading this series and wait for the book, and read something else in the meantime. But I wanted this particular book and I wanted it right then! In the old days I wouldn't have had a choice. I'd just have had to wait until someone scanned a copy or until the Library for the Blind got a braille copy. I would have been waiting a while because this book was of a subject matter not of mainstream interest.
Thank goodness for technology! Since nobody had this book, I went to the store, got the book, and read it. It was the first time in my whole life, I've ever been able to do that. The store was the iBookstore run by Apple, and the book was some kind of text file. I used my iPhone and braille display to read it. Because of Apple's commitment across the board to people with disabilities, I was able to do something I've wanted to do since I was six years old.
The book won't find itself on to my annual list of "Top Fifteen Best Reads" for the year. But it will always stand out in my mind as the first book I've ever bought to read just like anybody else. Now that I've had that experience, there is no stopping me!
Happy reading, y'all!
I could read using a closed-circuit television (CCTV) which magnified the text of a book onto a screen. While I managed to get my school work done using this device, it left little time, nor inclination, to read for pleasure, so I didn't. But I always wanted to read, just like the other kids in my class, I wanted to look at the different books, pick out a few, and take them home.
The reading opportunities for people with print-related disabilities have expanded a great deal in the last twenty years. We have
<"The Library for the Blind and Physically Handicapped">
and
<"Book Share">
As well as other options.
We can get books on tape or CD, in Daisy format, either audio or print, in specially formatted files for braille displays, and in MP3 format to put on an iPod or one of the small special-made reading devices for hearing blind people. We could even buy a regular print book, and scan it with a flat-bed scanner if we had one, or had the time to do that.
It's only been very recently that we have had truly instant access to books equal with our sighted peers.
A few months ago, I started a series of fiction books. I read about ten in this series before I got to a stopping point. The next book in the series was not available. I searched, I asked friends if they knew where I could get this particular book. I have more than enough books to stop reading this series and wait for the book, and read something else in the meantime. But I wanted this particular book and I wanted it right then! In the old days I wouldn't have had a choice. I'd just have had to wait until someone scanned a copy or until the Library for the Blind got a braille copy. I would have been waiting a while because this book was of a subject matter not of mainstream interest.
Thank goodness for technology! Since nobody had this book, I went to the store, got the book, and read it. It was the first time in my whole life, I've ever been able to do that. The store was the iBookstore run by Apple, and the book was some kind of text file. I used my iPhone and braille display to read it. Because of Apple's commitment across the board to people with disabilities, I was able to do something I've wanted to do since I was six years old.
The book won't find itself on to my annual list of "Top Fifteen Best Reads" for the year. But it will always stand out in my mind as the first book I've ever bought to read just like anybody else. Now that I've had that experience, there is no stopping me!
Happy reading, y'all!
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Catchup post #1: Jazzfest 2012!
I've been a busy Zebra these last weeks so here come a bunch of "catch up posts!
Last weekend was the second week of the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival, or as we call it-- Jazzfest. Yes, I'm deaf and blind, and yes, I look forward to this festival every year. You can read about some of reasons Many PWD enjoy attending the fest, and you might see a familiar face in the article
<"here">
People always ask me, why a person who is both deaf and blind wants to go to a music festival? And it's really hard to explain.
First of all, I do get tactual ASL interpreters for the performances I attend. And even if I didn't, I'd probably still go. I love walking around the race track with my friends, scoping out all of the food options, visiting with other friends in the access tent and just taking it all in. Oh and watching my dog work it all! I mean, literally thousands of people-- traveling the pathways, standing in groups talking, standing in lines, or just dancing. She guides me around them all, and then takes a nap during the concerts or when I stop to eat. I am amazed by her flawless work at this festival every year.
This year was no exception. I started picking the acts I wanted to see in January and only came to a decision in early April. In the morning, I saw Big Sam's funky nation. It was a great deal of fun. They are a local band, but I try to see one local group every year since I never usually get to see them with an interpreter.
The second group I saw was the Eagles. Yes, those Eagles, and yes, they are old but still rocking their guitars, even Joe Walsh, who has no teeth, by now. When they came on stage, my interpreter told me how old they looked, but that they were sounding great. You can go to Youtube and see some of the songs they did, such as
<"Life In The Fast Lane">
<"Desperado">
<"Hotel California">
and
<"Peaceful Easy Feeling">
I sat right next to the stage, and Laveau *slept* or at least laid down and chilled in the wooden box which is set up for the platform interpreters who sign for the sighted deaf during the performance. One of the sides of this box is open and Laveau spent this performance-- as she has the past four years of performances-- chillin in the box. As one Jazz Fest worker put it: "Oh, there's the dog who sleeps through rock concerts!"
This was an amazing show, brought to life for me through the combined talents of the band and of my interpreters! The weather was beautiful, with enough sun to keep it from raining, enough wind to keep the air moving, and enough clouds, to keep from baking.
Now I have to wait a whole year until my next Jazzfest! I think my arms will be rested by then!
Last weekend was the second week of the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival, or as we call it-- Jazzfest. Yes, I'm deaf and blind, and yes, I look forward to this festival every year. You can read about some of reasons Many PWD enjoy attending the fest, and you might see a familiar face in the article
<"here">
People always ask me, why a person who is both deaf and blind wants to go to a music festival? And it's really hard to explain.
First of all, I do get tactual ASL interpreters for the performances I attend. And even if I didn't, I'd probably still go. I love walking around the race track with my friends, scoping out all of the food options, visiting with other friends in the access tent and just taking it all in. Oh and watching my dog work it all! I mean, literally thousands of people-- traveling the pathways, standing in groups talking, standing in lines, or just dancing. She guides me around them all, and then takes a nap during the concerts or when I stop to eat. I am amazed by her flawless work at this festival every year.
This year was no exception. I started picking the acts I wanted to see in January and only came to a decision in early April. In the morning, I saw Big Sam's funky nation. It was a great deal of fun. They are a local band, but I try to see one local group every year since I never usually get to see them with an interpreter.
The second group I saw was the Eagles. Yes, those Eagles, and yes, they are old but still rocking their guitars, even Joe Walsh, who has no teeth, by now. When they came on stage, my interpreter told me how old they looked, but that they were sounding great. You can go to Youtube and see some of the songs they did, such as
<"Life In The Fast Lane">
<"Desperado">
<"Hotel California">
and
<"Peaceful Easy Feeling">
I sat right next to the stage, and Laveau *slept* or at least laid down and chilled in the wooden box which is set up for the platform interpreters who sign for the sighted deaf during the performance. One of the sides of this box is open and Laveau spent this performance-- as she has the past four years of performances-- chillin in the box. As one Jazz Fest worker put it: "Oh, there's the dog who sleeps through rock concerts!"
This was an amazing show, brought to life for me through the combined talents of the band and of my interpreters! The weather was beautiful, with enough sun to keep it from raining, enough wind to keep the air moving, and enough clouds, to keep from baking.
Now I have to wait a whole year until my next Jazzfest! I think my arms will be rested by then!
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Staying put!
Wow, two entries from me in one day?!
It turns out that I can fix the interface so it works with my screen reader once again. I'll outline the steps for any of my readers with this problem!
1. On the main blogger screen, go to blogger options. Note that it is a button, not a link. Press that, and the fifth item will be the link that changes you back to the old Blogger layout.
I use Voiceover on my Mac, so I tabbed to the Blogger Options button, and then was placed in a list. I interacted with the list and used VO down arrow to get to the option I wanted. Then with quicknav on, I hit shift space to activate my mouse. And it worked! Which is good news for me since I love this blog!
There may be a third post tonight detailing my recent adventures.
I have missed y'all!
It turns out that I can fix the interface so it works with my screen reader once again. I'll outline the steps for any of my readers with this problem!
1. On the main blogger screen, go to blogger options. Note that it is a button, not a link. Press that, and the fifth item will be the link that changes you back to the old Blogger layout.
I use Voiceover on my Mac, so I tabbed to the Blogger Options button, and then was placed in a list. I interacted with the list and used VO down arrow to get to the option I wanted. Then with quicknav on, I hit shift space to activate my mouse. And it worked! Which is good news for me since I love this blog!
There may be a third post tonight detailing my recent adventures.
I have missed y'all!
Moving House
Recently, Blogger has made changes to its interface which are not compatible with my Screenreader. I have not taken action because I hoped that Blogger would fix these problems and I could go back to posting regularly. However, Blogger has not addressed these issues and in order to keep blogging, I'll need to move my blog to a better service. I am researching my options, and when The Doghouse moves, I will post the new address here. Stay tuned for more updates!
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Turning Over A New Leaf
In 2006, while waiting in the limbo which was my exile in Memphis after the failure of the federal levees, I went to herbalist school. I had always been interested in herbs, and loved to experience them in all of their many forms. Since I had the time, it made sense to finally make a dream a reality.
I signed up for a course. I read about teas, tinctures and poultices. I learned the history of the different ways of practicing herbal medicine. I started my own little herb collection. At first, it was contained in a three-drawer plastic cabinet. Now my collection resides in a six-foot tall cupboard of solid oak, made for me by the husband of a client.
If you give me an herb, I can tell you about it. Where it grows, how it was used in ancient times, and what function it performs. I can tell you the best way to prepare it. I can do it all, but I have a secret herbalist shame.
I have a black thumb. Yes, you read right. I cannot keep plants alive to save my life. Growing up, I spent summers in my mother's large garden. I helped to plant and care for the various vegetables and fruits. In the summer months, I was sent out to pick raspberries or rhubarb. You'd think that this background, and my interest in herbs would combine to make me a wonderful gardener. But you would be wrong, dead wrong. And dead is usually where my plants end up.
I have decided to try once again to cultivate some skill in this area. To that end, I went to the nursery with my SSP on Friday.
The nursery in question is famous for the green parrots which fly around outside, and even enter into the store itself. You can frequently see store workers walking around with beautiful green parrots on their shoulders. Even though I don't have a green thumb, I have always liked going to the Green Parrot Nursery.
My SSP and I arrive. We begin touching and sniffing the different herbs. Oregano, thyme, and shallots. Orange Mint, Pepper Mint, and Mojito Mint. Several different kinds of Lavender, Rosemary and Lemon Balm. I touched and sniffed them all. Then I tasted some.
We had a great deal of fun walking amongst the tiny pots with their contents bursting forth. I picked out four plants to start. Mojito Mint, Apple Mint, Lemon Balm, and Rosemary. I went in to pay, and my SSP was describing the parrots to me. One of them was enjoying a snack with one of the workers at the shop. The man had a hamburger, and he took little bites off of his sandwich, and placed them upon his knee. The bird would fly down, pick up the bite, and return to the man's shoulder. I didn't know that green parrots had blue and other colors on them as well. This is one of the reasons I love going places with my SSP-- I have my very own describer.
We loaded the herbs into the car and drove to Walmart to look at flower pots. Unfortunately, the only ones that would work for my herbs were a horrible beige color. This would not do, not at all. However, there wasn't really any other choice, and I still had to make groceries, and my SSP time would be running out. Finally I decided to get the ugly pots and then we went to the children's section and got some finger paints. They are bright, primary colors and will work to make my pots less boring.
Today, my project is to paint the pots. Once they dry, I will let the baby herbs move into their newly painted homes.
Now, if someone can just remind me to water them, I'll be set.
I signed up for a course. I read about teas, tinctures and poultices. I learned the history of the different ways of practicing herbal medicine. I started my own little herb collection. At first, it was contained in a three-drawer plastic cabinet. Now my collection resides in a six-foot tall cupboard of solid oak, made for me by the husband of a client.
If you give me an herb, I can tell you about it. Where it grows, how it was used in ancient times, and what function it performs. I can tell you the best way to prepare it. I can do it all, but I have a secret herbalist shame.
I have a black thumb. Yes, you read right. I cannot keep plants alive to save my life. Growing up, I spent summers in my mother's large garden. I helped to plant and care for the various vegetables and fruits. In the summer months, I was sent out to pick raspberries or rhubarb. You'd think that this background, and my interest in herbs would combine to make me a wonderful gardener. But you would be wrong, dead wrong. And dead is usually where my plants end up.
I have decided to try once again to cultivate some skill in this area. To that end, I went to the nursery with my SSP on Friday.
The nursery in question is famous for the green parrots which fly around outside, and even enter into the store itself. You can frequently see store workers walking around with beautiful green parrots on their shoulders. Even though I don't have a green thumb, I have always liked going to the Green Parrot Nursery.
My SSP and I arrive. We begin touching and sniffing the different herbs. Oregano, thyme, and shallots. Orange Mint, Pepper Mint, and Mojito Mint. Several different kinds of Lavender, Rosemary and Lemon Balm. I touched and sniffed them all. Then I tasted some.
We had a great deal of fun walking amongst the tiny pots with their contents bursting forth. I picked out four plants to start. Mojito Mint, Apple Mint, Lemon Balm, and Rosemary. I went in to pay, and my SSP was describing the parrots to me. One of them was enjoying a snack with one of the workers at the shop. The man had a hamburger, and he took little bites off of his sandwich, and placed them upon his knee. The bird would fly down, pick up the bite, and return to the man's shoulder. I didn't know that green parrots had blue and other colors on them as well. This is one of the reasons I love going places with my SSP-- I have my very own describer.
We loaded the herbs into the car and drove to Walmart to look at flower pots. Unfortunately, the only ones that would work for my herbs were a horrible beige color. This would not do, not at all. However, there wasn't really any other choice, and I still had to make groceries, and my SSP time would be running out. Finally I decided to get the ugly pots and then we went to the children's section and got some finger paints. They are bright, primary colors and will work to make my pots less boring.
Today, my project is to paint the pots. Once they dry, I will let the baby herbs move into their newly painted homes.
Now, if someone can just remind me to water them, I'll be set.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Adventures with my Babelfish
I've had this hearing aid now for almost three years. It is my second aid and was, at the time of purchase, the best of the best as far as power. I have named all of my hearing aids Babelfish. If you don't know what a Babelfish is, you need to read
So this Babelfish has been limping along for some time now. First it was my mould that stop working, and then it got too quiet. I have been practicing the technique of avoidance-- hearing aid adjustments mess up my vertigo so much!
On Tuesday, the ear hook which holds the mould on to the processor broke and that meant a trip to the Audis.
She was able to fix the hook, and then she said that I'm now at the point in this whole long slow death of ear function where it begins to be more about clarity, rather than volume. They can continue turning things up and up and up. I may be able to hear them, but my understanding will get less and less because everything will start sounding like the teacher in the Peanuts with Charlie Brown. I have noticed this happening more and more. It's very hard to explain to hearing people because it is automatically assumed that volume is the problem, when it's clarity.
Basically this means that I need another new Babelfish. Because I am not rich, and my insurance is crappy, I rely on grants to help purchase my aid. I'm just glad I only hear out of one ear, so we don't have to double the cost to buy one for my right side. Lol!
So to qualify for this grant, I had to take yet another... audiogram, which I did, and boy those tests are short when you can't hear! Lol! I remember when I first started losing my hearing and I'd be in there for 20-30 minutes. This last one took maybe seven minutes tops, including all of the hooking, and unhooking of wires. So I did crappy enough on the test, and my Audi is going to submit the grant which will get me a newer and probably clearer Babelfish. I've been growing out of these hearing aids at the rate of one every three years. This came right on schedule. My Audi did bring up the topic of cochlear implants with me and this is tricky for several reasons. Both physical and cultural. She suggested doing the right ear since it's useless anyway. But the possible Meniere's side-effects make this undesirable. Like I said to a friend-- I can live as a deaf person, but I can't really live as a dizzy person who can't even feed herself.
I lived through the whole experience and now I am home, the Babelfish is out and I get quiet once again.
I think I hear a book calling and need to do some laundry now that the puppy is actually, y'know, asleep.
So this Babelfish has been limping along for some time now. First it was my mould that stop working, and then it got too quiet. I have been practicing the technique of avoidance-- hearing aid adjustments mess up my vertigo so much!
On Tuesday, the ear hook which holds the mould on to the processor broke and that meant a trip to the Audis.
She was able to fix the hook, and then she said that I'm now at the point in this whole long slow death of ear function where it begins to be more about clarity, rather than volume. They can continue turning things up and up and up. I may be able to hear them, but my understanding will get less and less because everything will start sounding like the teacher in the Peanuts with Charlie Brown. I have noticed this happening more and more. It's very hard to explain to hearing people because it is automatically assumed that volume is the problem, when it's clarity.
Basically this means that I need another new Babelfish. Because I am not rich, and my insurance is crappy, I rely on grants to help purchase my aid. I'm just glad I only hear out of one ear, so we don't have to double the cost to buy one for my right side. Lol!
So to qualify for this grant, I had to take yet another... audiogram, which I did, and boy those tests are short when you can't hear! Lol! I remember when I first started losing my hearing and I'd be in there for 20-30 minutes. This last one took maybe seven minutes tops, including all of the hooking, and unhooking of wires. So I did crappy enough on the test, and my Audi is going to submit the grant which will get me a newer and probably clearer Babelfish. I've been growing out of these hearing aids at the rate of one every three years. This came right on schedule. My Audi did bring up the topic of cochlear implants with me and this is tricky for several reasons. Both physical and cultural. She suggested doing the right ear since it's useless anyway. But the possible Meniere's side-effects make this undesirable. Like I said to a friend-- I can live as a deaf person, but I can't really live as a dizzy person who can't even feed herself.
I lived through the whole experience and now I am home, the Babelfish is out and I get quiet once again.
I think I hear a book calling and need to do some laundry now that the puppy is actually, y'know, asleep.
Saturday, March 24, 2012
Spring
Spring time in New Orleans. Fresh strawberries and that Strawberry Abita beer I love so much. Flowers and shrubs blooming everywhere. Those nasty stinging caterpillars dropping out of nowhere to leave you with a souvenir of their passing which will last for days. This time of year is the same time six years ago when I made my way out of exile in Memphis, TN. back home after the failure of the federal levees.
There is a section of "The Prophet" by Kahlil Gibran which sums up my leaving of Memphis well.
"Long were the days of pain I have spent within its walls, and long were the nights of aloneness; and who can depart from his pain and his aloneness without regret?
Too many fragments of the spirit have I scattered in these streets, and too many are the children of my longing that walk naked among these hills, and I cannot withdraw from them without a burden and an ache.
It is not a garment I cast off this day, but a skin that I tear with my own hands."
On the 26th of March, I packed my worldly goods into a U-Haul and drove back home. I was coming home to much welcome, but also to much work.
I remember getting out of the car once we had arrived at my new temporary home. The city still had that smell. It's an undefinable smell, mixed of equal parts decay, death, and desolation. And the mold... we must not forget the mold.
That night, friends had come to help us move our things. After unloading the truck, we trooped over to Franky and Johnny's for some soul food.
Those first few weeks were a blur. I saw clients every day with stories of being pulled from rooftops, watching their children die, and floating on kitchen appliances in filthy waters. I listened. I helped where I could.
Things started getting quieter and quieter in my world. I couldn't hear the phone. I couldn't hear my clients or coworkers. In six weeks my hearing was gone, and I didn't know what I would do. I was in a city with very limited medical services. The wait to see an audiologist is long. He is so shocked by the sudden loss, and he fears I may have some obscure form of inner ear cancer.
I wait some more, finally get an MRI, and wait some more only to find out that I do not have obscure and deadly ear tumors. But I'm still deaf, and navigating a city full of crime and debris which would easily fall into the category of biohazardous totally deaf and almost totally blind. I was more alone and afraid than I can ever remember being.
The doctors tell me that it's the mold in the city which has caused my inner ear disease to flair up and take my hearing. It's like a bad country-western song. "Katrina done took my house and my hearing and my city." The only thing missing is a part about trains and betrayed love.
People ask me if I regret coming back. If I knew what would happen to me, would I have gone back? And my answer will always be hell yes! Because I would rather be deaf in New Orleans than hearing and live anywhere else.
The New Orleans native and author Poppy Z. Brite once said:
"If you belong somewhere, if a place takes you in and you take it into yourself, you don't desert it because it can kill you."
I have known from the very moment I first arrived here. On that gray and rainy day nine years ago. I knew that this is where I wanted to live for the rest of my life. I want to work here, and be in love here, and train dogs here. When I am old, I want to sit on my porch here, and drink whisky in my lemonade on muggy July afternoons. And I want to die here, and I want this place to be better for me having been a part of it. I am certainly better for it being a part of me.
This whole time, when I struggled every day for simple communication, I took strength from my clients. They would tell me how I gave them hope for the future. But what they would never know is that really, it was the other way around.
And so it's spring again-- a time which makes me think about great love, and great inspiration. It makes me think of renewal and redemption and hope.
And I pass one more season under a sky of vibrant blue, sitting on my porch drinking Strawberry Abita beer and knowing that I am truly blessed.
There is a section of "The Prophet" by Kahlil Gibran which sums up my leaving of Memphis well.
"Long were the days of pain I have spent within its walls, and long were the nights of aloneness; and who can depart from his pain and his aloneness without regret?
Too many fragments of the spirit have I scattered in these streets, and too many are the children of my longing that walk naked among these hills, and I cannot withdraw from them without a burden and an ache.
It is not a garment I cast off this day, but a skin that I tear with my own hands."
On the 26th of March, I packed my worldly goods into a U-Haul and drove back home. I was coming home to much welcome, but also to much work.
I remember getting out of the car once we had arrived at my new temporary home. The city still had that smell. It's an undefinable smell, mixed of equal parts decay, death, and desolation. And the mold... we must not forget the mold.
That night, friends had come to help us move our things. After unloading the truck, we trooped over to Franky and Johnny's for some soul food.
Those first few weeks were a blur. I saw clients every day with stories of being pulled from rooftops, watching their children die, and floating on kitchen appliances in filthy waters. I listened. I helped where I could.
Things started getting quieter and quieter in my world. I couldn't hear the phone. I couldn't hear my clients or coworkers. In six weeks my hearing was gone, and I didn't know what I would do. I was in a city with very limited medical services. The wait to see an audiologist is long. He is so shocked by the sudden loss, and he fears I may have some obscure form of inner ear cancer.
I wait some more, finally get an MRI, and wait some more only to find out that I do not have obscure and deadly ear tumors. But I'm still deaf, and navigating a city full of crime and debris which would easily fall into the category of biohazardous totally deaf and almost totally blind. I was more alone and afraid than I can ever remember being.
The doctors tell me that it's the mold in the city which has caused my inner ear disease to flair up and take my hearing. It's like a bad country-western song. "Katrina done took my house and my hearing and my city." The only thing missing is a part about trains and betrayed love.
People ask me if I regret coming back. If I knew what would happen to me, would I have gone back? And my answer will always be hell yes! Because I would rather be deaf in New Orleans than hearing and live anywhere else.
The New Orleans native and author Poppy Z. Brite once said:
"If you belong somewhere, if a place takes you in and you take it into yourself, you don't desert it because it can kill you."
I have known from the very moment I first arrived here. On that gray and rainy day nine years ago. I knew that this is where I wanted to live for the rest of my life. I want to work here, and be in love here, and train dogs here. When I am old, I want to sit on my porch here, and drink whisky in my lemonade on muggy July afternoons. And I want to die here, and I want this place to be better for me having been a part of it. I am certainly better for it being a part of me.
This whole time, when I struggled every day for simple communication, I took strength from my clients. They would tell me how I gave them hope for the future. But what they would never know is that really, it was the other way around.
And so it's spring again-- a time which makes me think about great love, and great inspiration. It makes me think of renewal and redemption and hope.
And I pass one more season under a sky of vibrant blue, sitting on my porch drinking Strawberry Abita beer and knowing that I am truly blessed.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
A Scotsman Clad In Kilts...
Well actually he was an Irishman... Today was the St. Patrick's day parade. This is my second-favorite parade of the year. What can I say-- I'm a fan of men in kilts, and of bagpipes. My friend and I had arrived at the parade route, and had obtained the requisite Guinness from a local store. While standing around on the sidewalk drinking our beer (remember-- this is New Orleans and we can do that here without getting sent to the pokey), anyway, we were standing around drinking our beer, when we met up with a group of men in kilts. Apparently they were from New York City. They were transit drivers there and had a marching club with bagpipes. They came to march in our parade. I'd never seen bagpipes before so asked my friend to describe them. She decided to ask one of the players if I could touch his bagpipes instead of explaining it herself. That's when I met Mark. Who very patiently explained to me about bagpipes, and then showed me how to hold it. I put the bag under my arm, and the pipes on my shoulder, and then he put air in the bag and played the bagpipes. I could feel the vibrations from when the bag inflated, and the notes from the pipes vibrating my whole body. It was crazy. He showed me how you put your fingers on the holes in the breathing pipe and that's how you make the different notes. If I ever took up bagpipes I'd have to get one for smaller hands because the holes were spaced too far apart for me to keep my fingers in the right place. All in all, it was a very interesting experience. I have pictures, and need to upload them to Flickr for everyone to see. We saw the parade, and I caught a bunch of beads, a huge cabbage bigger than my head, a moon pie, which I gave to Mister Pawpower when I came home, a bag of conversation hearts, a stress ball in the shape of a carrot, three footballs for Laveau, and a flower for my hair. Oh and someone threw go cups from the parade, and they hit me in the head, so I kept them. That's what I get for being blind and not catching things. Laveau was very tired and slept for a good two hours after we got home. I gave her a knuckle bone to chew when we got home for doing such a good job. It was a lot of walking and I am very tired. I hope everyone had a happy St. Patrick's day. Also, I would be forever grateful for good recipes which use cabbage. Did I mention I have a huge cabbage to use up? Now that I've slathered noxzema all over my very sunburned face, I think I will read for a while! Be safe, y'all!
Friday, March 9, 2012
Sense on the Edge-- my review of new products from Hims
Today I met with a rep. from Hims and got a look at the Braille Sense U2 and Braille Edge. I came away really impressed.
The Braille Sense U2 is a traditional notetaker with Perkins-style keyboard. It has 32 cells, a 1GHz mobile CPU and a 32 gb hard disk. It has a small screen on the top of the unit which a DB person could use as part of a face-to-face communication system. The screen can also be disabled if you are so inclined.
The unit comes with the usual suite of applications found on most blindness-specific PDAs. Word processor, planner, file manager, email and internet, database manager and games as well as media such as mp3 player and memo recorder. I obviously didn't check out any of the media functions but I looked at all other programs and they seemed straightforward and easy to use. The unit also comes with GPS and a client for Twitter, Google Talk, and MSN messenger. I really liked that they included a switch to lock the keyboard and braille display when not in use. I can't tell you how many times my Apex has gotten buttons pushed while in my bag.
The unit seems sturdy and well-made. It also has a vibration feature-- great for DB people. You can get alarms, and system alerts as vibrations instead of sound.
The unit has 3 standard A USB ports, an ethernet jack, as well as a VGA port, and SD card slot. It has built-in WIFI and supports USB 3g modems.
The Braille Edge is a new 40 cell braille display with some note-taker functions. While the Braille Sense U2 has synthetic speech output in addition to braille, the Braille Edge does not have any speech and uses only braille.
In addition to its use as a display, this unit has a notepad, alarm, count down timer, stopwatch, calculator, and scheduler functions. This unit does not come with either a screen or built-in vibration.
The Braille Edge can be used as a USB or bluetooth display. It also has a slot for an SD card for storing files.
Over-all, I was very impressed with these products. While I personally don't see myself relying heavily on blindness-specific PDAs due to their smaller size and limited available to run third-party applications, something like the Braille Sense U2 would be great for a person who is not interested in an iDevice, or other off-the-shelf option. I can see both of these products being of great benefit to students, and people first learning braille, or assistive technology.
The products are repaired in Austin, TX. Hims says that repair time is five business days. If the unit cannot be fixed during this time period, Hims will send the user a loaner unit until the repairs are complete.
The Braille Sense U2 is a traditional notetaker with Perkins-style keyboard. It has 32 cells, a 1GHz mobile CPU and a 32 gb hard disk. It has a small screen on the top of the unit which a DB person could use as part of a face-to-face communication system. The screen can also be disabled if you are so inclined.
The unit comes with the usual suite of applications found on most blindness-specific PDAs. Word processor, planner, file manager, email and internet, database manager and games as well as media such as mp3 player and memo recorder. I obviously didn't check out any of the media functions but I looked at all other programs and they seemed straightforward and easy to use. The unit also comes with GPS and a client for Twitter, Google Talk, and MSN messenger. I really liked that they included a switch to lock the keyboard and braille display when not in use. I can't tell you how many times my Apex has gotten buttons pushed while in my bag.
The unit seems sturdy and well-made. It also has a vibration feature-- great for DB people. You can get alarms, and system alerts as vibrations instead of sound.
The unit has 3 standard A USB ports, an ethernet jack, as well as a VGA port, and SD card slot. It has built-in WIFI and supports USB 3g modems.
The Braille Edge is a new 40 cell braille display with some note-taker functions. While the Braille Sense U2 has synthetic speech output in addition to braille, the Braille Edge does not have any speech and uses only braille.
In addition to its use as a display, this unit has a notepad, alarm, count down timer, stopwatch, calculator, and scheduler functions. This unit does not come with either a screen or built-in vibration.
The Braille Edge can be used as a USB or bluetooth display. It also has a slot for an SD card for storing files.
Over-all, I was very impressed with these products. While I personally don't see myself relying heavily on blindness-specific PDAs due to their smaller size and limited available to run third-party applications, something like the Braille Sense U2 would be great for a person who is not interested in an iDevice, or other off-the-shelf option. I can see both of these products being of great benefit to students, and people first learning braille, or assistive technology.
The products are repaired in Austin, TX. Hims says that repair time is five business days. If the unit cannot be fixed during this time period, Hims will send the user a loaner unit until the repairs are complete.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Ready, Set, Download!
It's no secret-- I love my iPhone. I use it every day-- for a multitude of things. Everything from the GPS function-- to identifying money, and looking at the sale paper for my favorite stores. It is not a stretch to say that if my phone were to break, that I'd be in big trouble. To that end-- while it's exciting when Apple comes out with a new update, it's also scary as heck. It's almost like waging war.
I first have to back up my phone's content, and then it's time. I close all open apps, take a deep breath, and start the update.
The next few minutes are full of nerve-racking tension. I watch the numbers get bigger as the new software downloads. I read people's tweets who are also updating their phone.
"I think I killed it!"
or
"It's sticking at 97%."
These are just a few of the things people say. I respond with my own worry. We sit, and watch, and bite our nails. It is like you need a mix of solid nerve and some prayer to get you through.
And then... I accidentally moved my phone and it got unplugged from the AC outlet. Oh boy-- I know people to which this same thing has happened and they messed up the phone and it became necessary for them to do.... the dreaded R! That's R for Reset. Which takes forever and after you have reset your phone, installed the latest OS, re-downloaded all of your Apps, and prayed that they end up in their correct folders, and then you find out that no, there are no apps in folders any more-- leaving you with six pages of apps and an organizational nightmare.
This process requires a stiff drink after it's complete.
And I do all of this, the phone is thankfully fine. The update is finished, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
...
Only to have to go through this entire process on another phone!
As much as I love IOS upgrades, I'm glad they only come around a few times a year.
I think I'm off for that much-promised bourbon after all.
I first have to back up my phone's content, and then it's time. I close all open apps, take a deep breath, and start the update.
The next few minutes are full of nerve-racking tension. I watch the numbers get bigger as the new software downloads. I read people's tweets who are also updating their phone.
"I think I killed it!"
or
"It's sticking at 97%."
These are just a few of the things people say. I respond with my own worry. We sit, and watch, and bite our nails. It is like you need a mix of solid nerve and some prayer to get you through.
And then... I accidentally moved my phone and it got unplugged from the AC outlet. Oh boy-- I know people to which this same thing has happened and they messed up the phone and it became necessary for them to do.... the dreaded R! That's R for Reset. Which takes forever and after you have reset your phone, installed the latest OS, re-downloaded all of your Apps, and prayed that they end up in their correct folders, and then you find out that no, there are no apps in folders any more-- leaving you with six pages of apps and an organizational nightmare.
This process requires a stiff drink after it's complete.
And I do all of this, the phone is thankfully fine. The update is finished, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
...
Only to have to go through this entire process on another phone!
As much as I love IOS upgrades, I'm glad they only come around a few times a year.
I think I'm off for that much-promised bourbon after all.
Friday, March 2, 2012
The Boil on her Back-Side
Juuuuuuuuuuuuuust when I think I have heard every idiotic, moronic, ignorant, and thoughtless thing the general public can possibly say to me and/or my friends/family/communication facilitators....
somebody opens their mouth and proves me wrong... yet, again!
today is my usual day for running errands with my SSP. I needed to go into Radio Shak. My SSP was helping me when the man behind the counter suddenly turned to my SSP and said:
"You know, you're going to make a man a great wife one day-- you must have the patients of Job."
I'm probably not the most up to date on my Bible scholarship-- but wasn't Job the dude with boils, and plague, and all of these problems? So if my SSP is Job, logic must therefore dictate that I am the boil on Job's backside.
Which, if I took myself less seriously than I do could possibly really cheese me off.
I mean, do people just... not! think about what comes out of their mouthes?
My SSP and I are always getting strange people telling us how brave/inspirational/wonderful/heroic/beautiful it is that we are out buying a bunch of groceries. So now it's a game. We are keeping track of who gets the most ridiculous compliments. So far she has the patience of Job and I am a miracle sent from heaven.
somebody opens their mouth and proves me wrong... yet, again!
today is my usual day for running errands with my SSP. I needed to go into Radio Shak. My SSP was helping me when the man behind the counter suddenly turned to my SSP and said:
"You know, you're going to make a man a great wife one day-- you must have the patients of Job."
I'm probably not the most up to date on my Bible scholarship-- but wasn't Job the dude with boils, and plague, and all of these problems? So if my SSP is Job, logic must therefore dictate that I am the boil on Job's backside.
Which, if I took myself less seriously than I do could possibly really cheese me off.
I mean, do people just... not! think about what comes out of their mouthes?
My SSP and I are always getting strange people telling us how brave/inspirational/wonderful/heroic/beautiful it is that we are out buying a bunch of groceries. So now it's a game. We are keeping track of who gets the most ridiculous compliments. So far she has the patience of Job and I am a miracle sent from heaven.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Just Say No!
Today Mister Pawpower and I walked to a near by coffee shop for the usual bagels and hangman. After I had ordered my tea, I asked the employee behind the counter if there was space to sit on the bottom floor. The area is small, and I didn't want to go plowing in there with dogs and drinks and whatnot if I was just going to turn around and head back out due to lack of space. The store employee comes around from behind the counter and I told him that he didn't need to do that, just tell me if there were people back there; my dog can find a seat.
Instead of listening to me, this individual grabbed the sleeve of my coat and like a master with a dog on a leash, he started toward the seating area, towing me behind him, and with my dog confusedly trying to figure out what, exactly was going on. I stopped, removed my arm from his grip, and told him that either my dog would follow him, or that he could just answer my question of seating room, and I'd take care of finding the seat myself.
Apparently some people who can hear are deafer than I am, because once again! He grabbed me by the sleeve, starting out toward the seating area. I stopped, removed the sleeve from his hand, and said:
"Sir? Just for what it's worth, it is never appropriate, productive, safe, nor at all in good taste to grab a person without their consent and haul them around by either a piece of clothing or a body part. I appreciate that you are trying to help, but I have tried to get your attention several times and you continue to ignore me. Do not touch me. If you want to lead me somewhere, allow me to tell you how to accomplish this, and then follow my instructions when I give them."
Yes, I am sure many people are cringing right now because I was terribly rude, and he was "only trying to help." I respect that people want to help, but help should never be forced, and it should never put either party in danger.
If you were to look at me, you would never know that I have a hidden disability. My inner ear disease causes problems with balance and vertigo; thereby making walking or standing a huge chore, not just something I do without thinking. If someone wants to guide me, there are very specific ways in which they can do that. Safer, more comfortable ways. Grabbing my arm also means that my dog can't do her jobs properly.
I don't understand why people seem to think that the "normal laws" of physical contact don't apply to people with disabilities. If I walked up to a "normal" person, who asked me for directions, and I then grabbed that person by the arm or by their shirt and started yanking them in the general direction of their destination without even a word of by your leave or instruction, I would probably land in handcuffs at the most, or at the least get punched on the nose. However if this happened to a person with a disability, then it becomes generally accepted-- even smiled upon-- because the person doing the dragging is so kind and wonderful to help!
Many of my newly blind clients feel guilty or "wrong" about not accepting help, or if they do accept help, then they don't have the "right" to ask the person to do it in a way that isn't dangerous or frightening. It is still your body, even though you have a disability. If you don't like what someone is doing with your body, tell them to stop. If someone continues to help in ways which are unwanted, then you have the right to make it known that you don't like it. People with disabilities are not baggage, tugged and towed from here to there.
People often ask me the following question:
"What is the best way to help a person with a disability?"
Here is my answer.
First, ask if the person needs help. If they say no, don't take it personally, but just accept that the person has it covered and their way of doing something may look more difficult or differently than the way you do the same task, but that they are doing it and would like to do it themselves. If you ask and the person does want help, then either wait for the person to tell you how, exactly, you can help them, or ask the question yourself.
Do not grab or try to "move" someone as if they were a piece of furniture. If you need someone to move, ask, and then use words like "left" and "right" to indicate the direction. Do not ever move someone's cane/walker/wheelchair/crutches without asking. If you need the object moved, ask the person what they would like to do-- e.g. move it themselves, or get help. Just communicate, and listen!
And yes, before someone says it, the guy I yelled at today will probably not be in a hurry to help another person with a disability. But I think that might not be a huge loss!
Instead of listening to me, this individual grabbed the sleeve of my coat and like a master with a dog on a leash, he started toward the seating area, towing me behind him, and with my dog confusedly trying to figure out what, exactly was going on. I stopped, removed my arm from his grip, and told him that either my dog would follow him, or that he could just answer my question of seating room, and I'd take care of finding the seat myself.
Apparently some people who can hear are deafer than I am, because once again! He grabbed me by the sleeve, starting out toward the seating area. I stopped, removed the sleeve from his hand, and said:
"Sir? Just for what it's worth, it is never appropriate, productive, safe, nor at all in good taste to grab a person without their consent and haul them around by either a piece of clothing or a body part. I appreciate that you are trying to help, but I have tried to get your attention several times and you continue to ignore me. Do not touch me. If you want to lead me somewhere, allow me to tell you how to accomplish this, and then follow my instructions when I give them."
Yes, I am sure many people are cringing right now because I was terribly rude, and he was "only trying to help." I respect that people want to help, but help should never be forced, and it should never put either party in danger.
If you were to look at me, you would never know that I have a hidden disability. My inner ear disease causes problems with balance and vertigo; thereby making walking or standing a huge chore, not just something I do without thinking. If someone wants to guide me, there are very specific ways in which they can do that. Safer, more comfortable ways. Grabbing my arm also means that my dog can't do her jobs properly.
I don't understand why people seem to think that the "normal laws" of physical contact don't apply to people with disabilities. If I walked up to a "normal" person, who asked me for directions, and I then grabbed that person by the arm or by their shirt and started yanking them in the general direction of their destination without even a word of by your leave or instruction, I would probably land in handcuffs at the most, or at the least get punched on the nose. However if this happened to a person with a disability, then it becomes generally accepted-- even smiled upon-- because the person doing the dragging is so kind and wonderful to help!
Many of my newly blind clients feel guilty or "wrong" about not accepting help, or if they do accept help, then they don't have the "right" to ask the person to do it in a way that isn't dangerous or frightening. It is still your body, even though you have a disability. If you don't like what someone is doing with your body, tell them to stop. If someone continues to help in ways which are unwanted, then you have the right to make it known that you don't like it. People with disabilities are not baggage, tugged and towed from here to there.
People often ask me the following question:
"What is the best way to help a person with a disability?"
Here is my answer.
First, ask if the person needs help. If they say no, don't take it personally, but just accept that the person has it covered and their way of doing something may look more difficult or differently than the way you do the same task, but that they are doing it and would like to do it themselves. If you ask and the person does want help, then either wait for the person to tell you how, exactly, you can help them, or ask the question yourself.
Do not grab or try to "move" someone as if they were a piece of furniture. If you need someone to move, ask, and then use words like "left" and "right" to indicate the direction. Do not ever move someone's cane/walker/wheelchair/crutches without asking. If you need the object moved, ask the person what they would like to do-- e.g. move it themselves, or get help. Just communicate, and listen!
And yes, before someone says it, the guy I yelled at today will probably not be in a hurry to help another person with a disability. But I think that might not be a huge loss!
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Misadventures in the Red Stick
On Thursday I needed to travel to Baton Rouge for a meeting. This requires four buses and then a ride to the meeting place once I arrived in BR. The first bus picked me up at my house around 9 am. I was dropped off at the public library where I waited to take the bus to Baton Rouge.
I read email and texted. A Deaf friend of mine saw me waiting and came over to chat. Apparently the supervisor for the bus had been trying to talk to me and didn't know I was deaf so my friend's friend who was hearing came over and through a series of he said/she said/he said kind of translations, the supervisor told me that the bus was coming at 10:50. I would have gotten out my gizmo for face-to-face communications but I didn't know someone was trying to talk to me.
I got on the bus and amused myself for the two-hour long ride. Eventually I ended up at the station in Baton Rouge and walked around until I could find someone to show me to the rest room.
When I got out, my ride was there to take me to the building where the meeting was. We arrived and I met my interpreters. The meeting was three hours long, and after about two hours my arms were hurting and I needed a little break. I was a bit embarrassed to ask for one but I did anyway. Everyone got up to take a break and I asked my interpreters to show me where the bathroom was.
I should probably back up and say that interpreting for deafblind people is different than for sighted deaf. With deafblind interpreting, there is a lot more describing of the environment that goes on in addition to just straight interpreting. For example, before a meeting starts, an interpreter for a deafblind person describes the room, how it is laid out, who is doing what, any identifying characteristics of people. There were a couple wheelchair users at this particular meeting so my interpreters told me about that. This way I'd have a better idea that those people would be taking up space differently than a person who doesn't use a wheelchair.
So I had my SSP guide me to the restroom. We reach the door, and I step inside and turn around to ask my interpreter to explain to me how the restroom was laid out; e.g. where was the toilet, soap dispenser, paper towels and sink. Obviously, a bathroom is not the kind of place you want to explore tactually! Ewww! Only when I turned around to ask, my interpreter wasn't there. I stepped back out of the bathroom, and asked someone to explain the bathroom lay-out to me, but the person wasn't my interpreter. However, she did kindly fetch my interpreter who explained where everything was. I joked about getting lost and never coming out again.
Eventually!!! PAH!!! The meeting was over, back to the bus station, only this time the transfer to the bus didn't go smoothly. The bus driver demanded "an identification card for the dog." However under federal law, a business owner or employee may not demand such identification as a condition of access. The person may ask if I am a person with a disability, if my dog is a service dog, and what tasks my dog does to mitigate my disability/s. This driver did not ask those questions, however. He kept insisting on identification. I told him that I'd call the police and press charges. Denial of access to a person with a disability accompanied by an assistance dog is a class-C misdemeanor in the state of Louisiana which is punishable by a fine and/or jail time. The bus driver yelled, and told me that it was his bus and he didn't have to obey the law because his only rules were that of the bus company. I asked if he'd care to place a wager on that. He yelled some more and told me that people would be afraid of my dog (who was being very threatening and fear-inducing by standing next to me calmly doing counterbalance work while I held her handle) The driver then called his supervisor. To his surprise, the supervisor made him let me on the bus.
The driver then told me that if anyone was afraid of my dog that he would park the bus and refuse to move and that I would make everyone late and that he would announce to the bus at large that we were not moving because I refused to remove my dog from the bus and that the dog was causing fear amongst the other passengers.
Too bad for him, nobody was afraid of the dog and she lay under my seat while I read email and blogs for the ride home. Once again I was dropped off at my public library and waited for the last bus of the day to take me home. It was over an hour late, and it was ten p.m. when I finally walked through the front door. I was gone again the next day by seven-thirty am.
I'm glad I don't have meetings like this often!
I read email and texted. A Deaf friend of mine saw me waiting and came over to chat. Apparently the supervisor for the bus had been trying to talk to me and didn't know I was deaf so my friend's friend who was hearing came over and through a series of he said/she said/he said kind of translations, the supervisor told me that the bus was coming at 10:50. I would have gotten out my gizmo for face-to-face communications but I didn't know someone was trying to talk to me.
I got on the bus and amused myself for the two-hour long ride. Eventually I ended up at the station in Baton Rouge and walked around until I could find someone to show me to the rest room.
When I got out, my ride was there to take me to the building where the meeting was. We arrived and I met my interpreters. The meeting was three hours long, and after about two hours my arms were hurting and I needed a little break. I was a bit embarrassed to ask for one but I did anyway. Everyone got up to take a break and I asked my interpreters to show me where the bathroom was.
I should probably back up and say that interpreting for deafblind people is different than for sighted deaf. With deafblind interpreting, there is a lot more describing of the environment that goes on in addition to just straight interpreting. For example, before a meeting starts, an interpreter for a deafblind person describes the room, how it is laid out, who is doing what, any identifying characteristics of people. There were a couple wheelchair users at this particular meeting so my interpreters told me about that. This way I'd have a better idea that those people would be taking up space differently than a person who doesn't use a wheelchair.
So I had my SSP guide me to the restroom. We reach the door, and I step inside and turn around to ask my interpreter to explain to me how the restroom was laid out; e.g. where was the toilet, soap dispenser, paper towels and sink. Obviously, a bathroom is not the kind of place you want to explore tactually! Ewww! Only when I turned around to ask, my interpreter wasn't there. I stepped back out of the bathroom, and asked someone to explain the bathroom lay-out to me, but the person wasn't my interpreter. However, she did kindly fetch my interpreter who explained where everything was. I joked about getting lost and never coming out again.
Eventually!!! PAH!!! The meeting was over, back to the bus station, only this time the transfer to the bus didn't go smoothly. The bus driver demanded "an identification card for the dog." However under federal law, a business owner or employee may not demand such identification as a condition of access. The person may ask if I am a person with a disability, if my dog is a service dog, and what tasks my dog does to mitigate my disability/s. This driver did not ask those questions, however. He kept insisting on identification. I told him that I'd call the police and press charges. Denial of access to a person with a disability accompanied by an assistance dog is a class-C misdemeanor in the state of Louisiana which is punishable by a fine and/or jail time. The bus driver yelled, and told me that it was his bus and he didn't have to obey the law because his only rules were that of the bus company. I asked if he'd care to place a wager on that. He yelled some more and told me that people would be afraid of my dog (who was being very threatening and fear-inducing by standing next to me calmly doing counterbalance work while I held her handle) The driver then called his supervisor. To his surprise, the supervisor made him let me on the bus.
The driver then told me that if anyone was afraid of my dog that he would park the bus and refuse to move and that I would make everyone late and that he would announce to the bus at large that we were not moving because I refused to remove my dog from the bus and that the dog was causing fear amongst the other passengers.
Too bad for him, nobody was afraid of the dog and she lay under my seat while I read email and blogs for the ride home. Once again I was dropped off at my public library and waited for the last bus of the day to take me home. It was over an hour late, and it was ten p.m. when I finally walked through the front door. I was gone again the next day by seven-thirty am.
I'm glad I don't have meetings like this often!
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
This and That
Everyone in my office seems to have the winter crud, so it's no surprise that I got it. It has hung on for over a week and I am wishing it would just go away. In other news, I'm changing up the equipment I use for Laveau. She managed to break her guide handle for the harness, so Mister Pawpower is spending the day today making me a new one since I have to attend a board meeting in Baton Rouge tomorrow and need my harness. He is also going to add a light mobility handle on her back strap. As my inner ear disease progresses, I am finding myself in need of more and more Mobility tasks from Laveau. Due to my lack of proprioception, I have a hard time telling where I am in space. Having a handle to hold when I'm standing for long periods helps me. I have also taught her to counter balance for those times when I think I'm standing straight but am really canted far to one side or another about to do a face plant. We will put that handle on my harness sometime this weekend. I am super excited.
Tomorrow I'll be gone for twelve hours as I am traveling to Baton Rouge. This takes two bus rides and a cab ride each way, and then a three-hour meeting which means three hours of solid tactile interpreting. My arms hurt just thinking about it.
Baylee is filling out and continues to have boundless energy. We have a nice man walking her several times a week. Well actually it's more like jogging; but it really helps make her energy levels more manageable.
Bristol and Mill'E are doing well. Today when we were about to leave, Mill'E-Max grabbed one of the straps on Baylee's "in training" backpack and took off with Baylee running behind her. That dog just wants to be in charge, I guess.
I hope everyone in blogland has been well!
Tomorrow I'll be gone for twelve hours as I am traveling to Baton Rouge. This takes two bus rides and a cab ride each way, and then a three-hour meeting which means three hours of solid tactile interpreting. My arms hurt just thinking about it.
Baylee is filling out and continues to have boundless energy. We have a nice man walking her several times a week. Well actually it's more like jogging; but it really helps make her energy levels more manageable.
Bristol and Mill'E are doing well. Today when we were about to leave, Mill'E-Max grabbed one of the straps on Baylee's "in training" backpack and took off with Baylee running behind her. That dog just wants to be in charge, I guess.
I hope everyone in blogland has been well!
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
State of the Pack
Mother Nature has a major case of confusion. It has been in the high 70's this whole week. I'm actually running the air-conditioning because it is so hot and muggy outside. Don't get me wrong; I'd much rather have high 70's than 40's! Hey, I'm a weather wimp! That's why I don't live in the frozen north with the rest of my family! While I'm enjoying this weather, it makes it hard to remember that we're only in January. It doesn't feel like Carnival time at all!
This good weather has given me lots of opportunity to get out with the dogs though which is nice. Bristol has seen both the regular vet, as well as the eye specialist and the old lady appears to be pretty darned fit for her age. This makes us all very happy as we would all be quite lost without our Queen Bristol and we hope she will be around for many years yet.
I am teaching myself to make incense. This required a trip to the herb store where my SSP got an education on everything from Rooibos to Tansy. It was fun, and I some how ended up buying a beautiful marble mortar and pestle (because I needed a bigger one-- promise)! So I am still in the mixing of the herbs stage. I couldn't find Makko powder at the shop so am going with charcoal and honey for combustion/binding. I am also trying Rooibos (red tea) in some of my blends and am liking it very much.
Baylee is growing and is starting to wear a small harness. She is having some body sensitivity issues and I'm getting her used to the feel of a handle on her back, being picked up and set down, as well as starting some positioning work. My friend took a bunch of pictures and tomorrow's chore involves uploading them to Flickr. I'll post the link when I have it. If I were more techy-ish, I could put them in the post itself but I still don't understand how to do that. Someone should really write a book-- blogger for idiots.
And speaking of books, I do believe that it is time to give the old lady her 2nd round of eye drops for the day and crawl into bed with my book. It is the first Harry Potter book-- obeying the maxim, that "When the going gets tough-- the tough read HP!"
This good weather has given me lots of opportunity to get out with the dogs though which is nice. Bristol has seen both the regular vet, as well as the eye specialist and the old lady appears to be pretty darned fit for her age. This makes us all very happy as we would all be quite lost without our Queen Bristol and we hope she will be around for many years yet.
I am teaching myself to make incense. This required a trip to the herb store where my SSP got an education on everything from Rooibos to Tansy. It was fun, and I some how ended up buying a beautiful marble mortar and pestle (because I needed a bigger one-- promise)! So I am still in the mixing of the herbs stage. I couldn't find Makko powder at the shop so am going with charcoal and honey for combustion/binding. I am also trying Rooibos (red tea) in some of my blends and am liking it very much.
Baylee is growing and is starting to wear a small harness. She is having some body sensitivity issues and I'm getting her used to the feel of a handle on her back, being picked up and set down, as well as starting some positioning work. My friend took a bunch of pictures and tomorrow's chore involves uploading them to Flickr. I'll post the link when I have it. If I were more techy-ish, I could put them in the post itself but I still don't understand how to do that. Someone should really write a book-- blogger for idiots.
And speaking of books, I do believe that it is time to give the old lady her 2nd round of eye drops for the day and crawl into bed with my book. It is the first Harry Potter book-- obeying the maxim, that "When the going gets tough-- the tough read HP!"
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Obstacle Avoidance
Today I took Baylee for a walk. She has been doing some very light obstacle avoidance work, plus she will reliably stop for changes in elevation. She is in no way a trained guide dog, but we have been encouraging these behaviors since we got her, and in the last two weeks her focus and overall understanding of these behaviors has improved drastically.
Mister Pawpower needed to go to the post-office, and he "borrowed" Laveau since she is the master of navigating the lines in that building. While they were gone, I decided to take our striped one for a walk.
Everything was going just swimmingly. We had gone about 7 blocks in all, and were nearing the end of our walk when we encountered an obstacle..
No, it wasn't a trash can, or a parked car. This obstacle was a person... with a dog, on a leash. However, for some people, a leash just seems to be a pretty bit of fabric to clutch while their dog does whatever it pleases. This was the case with the woman we met.
I felt Baylee stop, and I reached down to find her sniffing the dog. I asked her to stop, and she did. I told her to continue walking, and she tried but failed as she was suddenly set upon by this dog who was thankfully not much bigger than she was. The dog thought it was great fun to jump up and pin Baylee to the ground, wagging its tail and licking her face. Poor Baylee just lay there-- still ignoring the other dog, and trying to get up but having no luck. I informed the woman that we needed to be on our way (which is a polite request to remove her dog from atop mine), however the woman was cooing and laughing and getting a real kick out of her dog's antics. Finally I told Baylee she could greet the other dog because I had no other choice.
Eventually I got the other dog off of her, got Baylee on her feet, and left on our way home. Thankfully the dog, although very poorly trained, was very friendly and its only intent was play. This could have ended up so much worse if the dog had been reactive. Baylee doesn't seem any the worse for wear, but I think my nerves are shot.
Mister Pawpower needed to go to the post-office, and he "borrowed" Laveau since she is the master of navigating the lines in that building. While they were gone, I decided to take our striped one for a walk.
Everything was going just swimmingly. We had gone about 7 blocks in all, and were nearing the end of our walk when we encountered an obstacle..
No, it wasn't a trash can, or a parked car. This obstacle was a person... with a dog, on a leash. However, for some people, a leash just seems to be a pretty bit of fabric to clutch while their dog does whatever it pleases. This was the case with the woman we met.
I felt Baylee stop, and I reached down to find her sniffing the dog. I asked her to stop, and she did. I told her to continue walking, and she tried but failed as she was suddenly set upon by this dog who was thankfully not much bigger than she was. The dog thought it was great fun to jump up and pin Baylee to the ground, wagging its tail and licking her face. Poor Baylee just lay there-- still ignoring the other dog, and trying to get up but having no luck. I informed the woman that we needed to be on our way (which is a polite request to remove her dog from atop mine), however the woman was cooing and laughing and getting a real kick out of her dog's antics. Finally I told Baylee she could greet the other dog because I had no other choice.
Eventually I got the other dog off of her, got Baylee on her feet, and left on our way home. Thankfully the dog, although very poorly trained, was very friendly and its only intent was play. This could have ended up so much worse if the dog had been reactive. Baylee doesn't seem any the worse for wear, but I think my nerves are shot.
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Life is like mystery soup....
You never never know what you'll get. And yes, it's supposed to be chocolates, but I am making mystery soup today so soup it shall be.
I needed to clean out my fridge and veggie shelf, so today was soup-making-day. I also had some old stock I had frozen from a pork roast we had made a month or so back. I defrosted it (not an easy job when the kitchen is unheated and it's 35 degrees outside) and skimmed off the fat(ewww!) and tossed the stock in the crock pot with 5 chopped red potatoes, an onion, some leftover frozen corn and green beans, half a bottle of salsa that needed to be used, 4 or 5 cloves of garlic(just in case of vampire invasion) and a can of Skyline Chili base (I thought it was black beans, but got a surprise when I opened it so used that instead). I will make biscuits later or maybe some egg-rolls and that shall be our dinner, and if I'm lucky, lunches for me next week.
This morning we went for coffee. Our vet said that Baylee would tell us when she was ready to start going with us again, after being spayed on Wednesday. This morning she was for sure ready. Mister Pawpower and I dressed Laveau and Baylee and went for coffee and to the mini mart. Baylee was very glad to be out and not stuck at home. She has been a very good girl, not bothering her stitches. She doesn't even need the cone of shame (lamp shade collar) which is awesome.
Bristol's labs came back and they are all normal. She was examined by our vet who said that her hips are actually improving a bit which is amazing! Go team Bristol.
The weather has been so cold. Well ok, all y'all yankees are looking down your noses but it is! Also our homes don't have central heat so... brrr! My hands get so cold and I am very grateful for my new gloves with the fingertips missing so I can still read braille without freezing my hands off.
Tomorrow I am dragging my SSP to a local herb shop. I went to their website and they even have classes which sound interesting. I'm going to check out their prices and to see if they have Makko powder because I'd like to try my hand at making incense.
Yesterday I realized that this is a three-day weekend because of Martin Luther King Jr. day. I think I will celebrate by making another pot of the solstice soup I made last month. I may also make a pan of jalapeno corn bread, and perhaps some chocolate cupcakes.
I think that is all of my randomness for now.
Mill'E-Max is telling me that her water dish is empty. If I don't fill it soon she may exact vengeance. And don't let that golden retriever face fool you-- they are masters of revenge!!
Stay warm, y'all!
I needed to clean out my fridge and veggie shelf, so today was soup-making-day. I also had some old stock I had frozen from a pork roast we had made a month or so back. I defrosted it (not an easy job when the kitchen is unheated and it's 35 degrees outside) and skimmed off the fat(ewww!) and tossed the stock in the crock pot with 5 chopped red potatoes, an onion, some leftover frozen corn and green beans, half a bottle of salsa that needed to be used, 4 or 5 cloves of garlic(just in case of vampire invasion) and a can of Skyline Chili base (I thought it was black beans, but got a surprise when I opened it so used that instead). I will make biscuits later or maybe some egg-rolls and that shall be our dinner, and if I'm lucky, lunches for me next week.
This morning we went for coffee. Our vet said that Baylee would tell us when she was ready to start going with us again, after being spayed on Wednesday. This morning she was for sure ready. Mister Pawpower and I dressed Laveau and Baylee and went for coffee and to the mini mart. Baylee was very glad to be out and not stuck at home. She has been a very good girl, not bothering her stitches. She doesn't even need the cone of shame (lamp shade collar) which is awesome.
Bristol's labs came back and they are all normal. She was examined by our vet who said that her hips are actually improving a bit which is amazing! Go team Bristol.
The weather has been so cold. Well ok, all y'all yankees are looking down your noses but it is! Also our homes don't have central heat so... brrr! My hands get so cold and I am very grateful for my new gloves with the fingertips missing so I can still read braille without freezing my hands off.
Tomorrow I am dragging my SSP to a local herb shop. I went to their website and they even have classes which sound interesting. I'm going to check out their prices and to see if they have Makko powder because I'd like to try my hand at making incense.
Yesterday I realized that this is a three-day weekend because of Martin Luther King Jr. day. I think I will celebrate by making another pot of the solstice soup I made last month. I may also make a pan of jalapeno corn bread, and perhaps some chocolate cupcakes.
I think that is all of my randomness for now.
Mill'E-Max is telling me that her water dish is empty. If I don't fill it soon she may exact vengeance. And don't let that golden retriever face fool you-- they are masters of revenge!!
Stay warm, y'all!
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Random brain dump
Part of my job requires that I do presentations on various topics to groups of people (mostly school children). Today I attended an "Abilities Awareness Day" held at a middle school. My interpreter arrived just shortly after I did. We have known one another for a couple of years now, but rarely get to work together. We spent a while just chatting and catching up which was nice.
Then the presentation started. As did the questions. One young gentleman asked me if I was married. A young lady asked me why I needed a dog if I had an interpreter. I think I'll pass on the guide human, thanks. One young man called Laveau a "statue" because she was holding so still. He was wondering if she ever moved at all. I kind of laughed at that because when she's not working, she never stops moving.
At one point I was demonstrating how I use my iPhone and Braille display for texting and the like. I had the display on my lap, and a teacher held my iPhone. I read the information on my display with my right hand while the left hand sat atop the interpreter's right hand so I could answer people's questions. Yes, it is possible to receive tactile ASL and read braille simultaneously. It kind of breaks my brain though. The ride to the school was one hour each way, so it was a very busy day, and very tiring.
Baylee is getting spayed tomorrow. I am nervous. Bristol is also going in for labs, and this also makes me nervous.
Also I think I'm losing more hearing. I know, who'd have thunk I'd have any more to lose at this point but there you go. I'm going to have to make an appointment with my audiologist soon to see if she can turn up my hearing aid again. Honestly I am putting this off because hearing aid adjustments are one of the auditory things that triggers an increase in vertigo symptoms. I really hate those. I don't care about being deaf but I hate being dizzy and sick. I didn't really even realize how much I've been struggling lately until I used an interpreter today and didn't have to struggle at all.
I always have to struggle to hear, it's just a fact. That makes it hard to notice an increase in the need to work when one is already working hard. But today really brought it home to me how stressful listening has become.
bla, bla, bla!
My brain is so fried right now I'm not making sense. gonna plug in all of my gizmos and go to sleep. We leave for the vets at 8:45 tomorrow with Baylee and Brissy. Good juju/happy thoughts/prayers to the deity/s of your choice are appreciated.
Then the presentation started. As did the questions. One young gentleman asked me if I was married. A young lady asked me why I needed a dog if I had an interpreter. I think I'll pass on the guide human, thanks. One young man called Laveau a "statue" because she was holding so still. He was wondering if she ever moved at all. I kind of laughed at that because when she's not working, she never stops moving.
At one point I was demonstrating how I use my iPhone and Braille display for texting and the like. I had the display on my lap, and a teacher held my iPhone. I read the information on my display with my right hand while the left hand sat atop the interpreter's right hand so I could answer people's questions. Yes, it is possible to receive tactile ASL and read braille simultaneously. It kind of breaks my brain though. The ride to the school was one hour each way, so it was a very busy day, and very tiring.
Baylee is getting spayed tomorrow. I am nervous. Bristol is also going in for labs, and this also makes me nervous.
Also I think I'm losing more hearing. I know, who'd have thunk I'd have any more to lose at this point but there you go. I'm going to have to make an appointment with my audiologist soon to see if she can turn up my hearing aid again. Honestly I am putting this off because hearing aid adjustments are one of the auditory things that triggers an increase in vertigo symptoms. I really hate those. I don't care about being deaf but I hate being dizzy and sick. I didn't really even realize how much I've been struggling lately until I used an interpreter today and didn't have to struggle at all.
I always have to struggle to hear, it's just a fact. That makes it hard to notice an increase in the need to work when one is already working hard. But today really brought it home to me how stressful listening has become.
bla, bla, bla!
My brain is so fried right now I'm not making sense. gonna plug in all of my gizmos and go to sleep. We leave for the vets at 8:45 tomorrow with Baylee and Brissy. Good juju/happy thoughts/prayers to the deity/s of your choice are appreciated.
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