Ah . . . Spring

Ameri has been attending "college". It is a proprietary vocational school that offers "degrees" in vocational training. She and her boyfriend, a ROOMER, in my home attend classes three evenings a week and they seem to be keeping up with the program. They ride their bikes to school and are usually home by 10pm. In the interim since my last post, they have each had several different jobs. They just can't seem to hang on to them.

Recently, Ameri was returning home on her bike from school. She had a green crosswalk light. Just as she was passing from the curb lane to the middle lane of a very busy suburban intersection, a car made a rolling approach and turn on a red light. The car continued through the turn and struck the rear wheel of Ameri's bike. The car did not stop. Several people who were in a turning lane waiting for the light, got out and tended to her. She was not severely injured, but never one to pass up an ambulance ride, she was transported to an emergency room and spent the next 12 hours there. She was released with pain killers. No culprit has yet been apprehended. In my metro area, there are 4 to 6 hit and runs a day. It is rarely a piece that make the paper anymore unless the circumstances are particularly egregious. The corner is the converging point for three different police jurisdictions. It is a high incident corner. Ameri has recovered.

Ameri still has two horses that must be kept up. I am not agreeable to those circumstances but Mom is willing to pony (forgive me) up for the immediate future. The horses have been moved twice since my last post. The new place is just being established on property that is in a horsey neigh (forgive me again) borhood. It is the project of an indulging parent for his 12 year old daughter. Deja vu.

Ameri's cat from the road is still loaded with genetic disbursal organs and is an escape artist. I usually get the blame for his escapes.

Ameri smokes cigarettes. She is not allowed to do that in the house. When it started, I ordered her across the street to smoke. Mom has allowed smoking in our drive way and the tree house in the back yard. I get ballistic about the butt disbursal. I have made two butt cans. I have painted them red and they remind me of my basic training days. I could go on but I won't.

More later.

Lantern Bearer