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Jan. 17th, 2005 09:05 pmI will note that just ate my first really healthy and refreshing meal since the start of the Hunt, and my wits feel sharp for the first time in a while. Which is too bad, considering what I was supposed to be doing. Next time I go a-puzzling, I'll make an effort to eat better, even if it means packin' some lunch.
For the record, I ate a ceasar salad wrap that I made all by myself after the Diesel Cafe's yummy sammich. Though I don't know how to properly manipulate the tortilla so that it is an actual wrap and not a... floppy food-thing, it's still the first time I have chosen to make a restaurant-inspired meal myself instead of just going to the restaurant for it, which is my usual habit, 2-3 times daily. I hope this is the start of a gradual shift, for me.
Last weekend was another Ricky Weekend, and probably the best one yet. Nothing in particular good happened; it was just a very nice visit. Highlights included our necessary trip to the MFA, a viewing of the beautiful film Rivers and Tides, and several games of Memoir '44. As with Battle Cry (by the same designer, though I think M44 is the superior game) the gameplay is a close enough representation of real-life military tactics that he grasped the rules pretty quickly (unlike any of my frustrating attempt to teach him more abstract games) and he got really into it, to the point where I found myself learning about battle strategies and even military culture from the jargon-filled stories that the game inspired him to tell.
I also introduced him to local friends for the first time; M and J came over Monday evening for dinner, one that Ricky prepared almost entirely himself (which I did not expect to happen; I had forgotten that he is actually an excellent cook and has strong kitchen instinct, and he basically punted me from the kitchen and took over once he saw what I was up to (with no protests from me)). I found it interesting that Ricky introduced himself as "Ricky"; I don't think I've ever heard him call himself that before. Readers of this blog wouldn't know it, but everyone except me calls him "Richard", because that's his name. (He is named after my father, but my father is called "Dick".) For reasons I don't know and have never really asked about, though, as an infant I was introduced to him as "Ricky" and so that's the only name I have for him.
Life is still hard at home for him and the parents, and they're finally moving with a plan to get him into a Bangor apartment this year sometime. I am skeptical at this working, but I am of course hopeful that it does, and will do everything I can to help with it. To his credit, Ricky has, very recently, become more aware of when he acts inappropriately in social situations. He calls it "trouble". That is, he might tell me over the phone "I got into some trouble at the store today" and I know exactly what he's talking about. In the past, and for many years, he didn't seem to be able to tell the difference between acceptable conversational behavior and (what strangers to him can only perceive as) "crazy talk", those times when he gets stuck in his own speech center, sending forth strings of dissociated academicisms while trying desperately to circumlocute his burned-out pathways. Now, though, he has gotten better at recognizing this, and being able to collect himself and start over. So, this makes me a little more hopeful for him.