...whine, snivel, kvetch...

On Friday, Jen and I will head to Western Pennsylvania, to that little town that I loathe with the heat of Venus having a zillion and one half hot flashes all at once.

We’ll be visiting my father—just for the day—as uzh. These trips are much too fast and short and exhaust the hell outta both of us. Jen ‘terps for me and, after an afternoon of Daddy/Daughter Dali-by-way-of-Dada rapid fire convos, she’s seriously tapped out. OK, me too—lipreading is hard fucking work. Ah, but I’ve whinged on about this already.

OK, I hear you. You’re asking If Jen’s ‘terping, why do you need to lipread, ya big baby?! Well, as a late deafened adult (versus big D deafie), me and my fab famiglia communicate using a cobbled together sort of language. It's a melange of ASL, finger spelling, lipreading, written notes and, of course, interpretive dance (ALWAYS with the interpretive dance!). As they say in ALDA—the Association of Late Deafened Adults—whatever works.

Jen‘s terping is AWESOME+ but, at the same time, I lipread as much as I can to catch what gets by her.

By the end of the day our communication’s devolved into Neanderthal-esque grunts and pointing. Not especially comprehensible to others but, hells, we understand each other and, by that point, that’s all that really matters.

The hitch here is that I don’t have a chance or the energy to visit with everyone I’d really truly love to see. Thanks to the mysteries of Facebook, I've friends in this area now that I def want to see.

Very frustrating but neither Jen nor I can get away from Valhalla for a longer stay.

Ya know what’d really help? I’ll tells ya—if more people knew ASL, Jen wouldn’t have to work so hard with the ‘terp action and I wouldn’t need to have my Lipreading Foo so keenly engaged.

I know, I know, learning a new language is always hard—even more so as we age. Not impossible by any means but it’s certainly a big fat challenge.

...whine, snivel, kvetch...

I emailed Jen to remind her.

Me: Don’t forget—we’re flying to Pittsburgh on Friday.

Also, come home. Now please. K?

It’s a running thing with us—that she should come home from work early so that we can flop on her couch, drink wine, eat snacks and watch TV. Hey, everyone's gotta have a hobby, right?!

Jen: EXCELLENT plan! I love your smaht brain.

Me: It goes with the car. Small, uncomfortable and limited but....emmmm....what were we talking about?

Jen: At least your brain matches your car; mine matches my old sneakers—frayed, faded and unsupportive.

Me: Now I'm realizing that mine bears a striking resemblance to my old bras. Gee. THANKS!

Jen: But your old bras are pretty and supportive!

Me:  OK fine, sure. Now come home—the wine's not getting any younger.

Jen: But I thought we was supposed to age vino!

How come vino gets better with age and all that happens to us is we break? I think we need to put in for transfers to the wine department.

Me: CLEARLY!