Roller skates, flu shots and ice cream

Laura picked up an easy community service assignment yesterday; she did an afternoon shift at the annual Peddler's Day rummage sale in town. It was not too busy, Nancy told her, because someone put up a tent in front of their sign. I'm sure she took some good natured ribbing from Peter. She came home with a lovely pair of roller skates for five dollars.

This morning she's signing up for slots at the Regional Food Bank. How easy it is to make time next week, when she's suspended anyway.  

How much I am learning. I should straighten out one detail, which may or may not satisfy a family member. The other granddaughter who lived here has legally changed her name, which I know, and I use. Her new name is Blake. In the last post I thought about which to use when I referred to the time she lived here. I settled on her birth name, as it would make sense to readers without explanation.

This modern age of identity fluidity has also produced a descriptive vocabulary. The discarded name is now referred to as "deadname". In reading it, I thought Blake was asking I not block her from commenting. But Laura tells me it simply refers to using her birth name. So much to remember.

Laura and I went to a PFlag meeting the other day, and will go to more. Laura is comfortable in the setting, and if people can excuse my misuse of gender pronouns on occasion, so am I. Remember, Laura's father is gay, and the children have been involved in his life for the many years he has lived with his partner. 

Interestingly, all four children identify as some sort of gay. Laura tells the circle she is pan, and passes to the next. It came to me some time ago that all four of them play on a field I do not know, which is both a strength and a hardship in living with them. That's plural "them". Laura and I have settled into a comfortable arrangement, knowing we have no place else to go.

Once I got flu shots as a matter of course. I spent forty odd weekends a year in the thick of "the public", and was sneezed upon by child and adult alike. And a few dogs, too. I remember the utterly ill child whose contagion sent me to the doctor Monday morning in hope I was not too late. So, for going on thirty years I was inoculated. I caught nothing, not even a cold.

Then, maybe ten years ago, I came home from work the day after, fell into bed and slept until I had to go to work the next morning. And so on the next year and the next. I quit flu shots. 

But this year's prognosis scares the hell out of me. Eighty thousand fatalities in this country alone! That's a gross number of sixteen hundred per state. When spread over population, that means a whole lot less for North Dakota and a whole lot more for Ohio. I'm on for a flu shot.

Laura and I went to the drug store yesterday for shots. There is a giant snafu with her new coverage, and her shot is totally out of pocket. We passed; we'll go to our regular doctor in all our free time this week. We bought ice cream on the way out. I've had better.