Woken At 6:37AM.

Afternoon, Kids…

So, I was woken from a dead sleep by our Lhasa apso, Chewy’s barking his head off on the other side of the house at the backdoor.  You know when you’re jolted from a dead sleep for whatever the reason, you’re disoriented as hell, right?  Chewy’s one to alert us for stuff out of the ordinary I can count on my hand how many times he’s woken us from a dead sleep since he showed up on our doorstep five years ago …so, this was serious business.

Joey woke a second after me, and climbed out of bed, crawled across the house with Chewy leading, then, I heard the backdoor chime, and Chewy haul out.  He had to pee.  After, everybody came back, and Joey had to pee herself and climb back in bed.  45 minutes roundtrip with a bathroom break herself, which isn’t easy without her shoes for support, so she has to use a urinal on the floor.

This has me thinking about being vulnerable.  OK, Joey’s more ambulatory than I am, I’ll admit.  What she can do, I help, and vice versa…BUT, like I said, it took her 45 minutes roundtrip.  She was worn out, and her provider comes at 8:30.  That ain’t a long time for a power nap, and Joey’s not one to get back to sleep easily when she’s been scared awake.  Thankfully, today wasn’t one of those days; she said she got an hour in.  I didn’t, but I can get by on minimal sleep unless I’m dog tired.  I’m a vampire by nature, bouncing up and ready to go, is nothing to me…hence, being awake to hang with you fine people.

Anyhoo, we want kids, always have.  But, there’s a lot of thinking that’ll go into making that happen successfully.  And, I’m not just us, because we’re crips, no, I know no kid comes with a handbook whether abled or not.  To take a catchphrase of sorts from Hitch, that’s really when you go skydiving without a parachute…and, hope to God you stick the landing.  We’ve talked about the “What ifs” and hows.  Would we have the crib by our bed, or let the baby sleep with us?  Feeding, dressing, getting to and from doctor’s appointments, how’d we make that happen?

Joey has a collection of reborn babies that range from micro-preemie to toddler that she’s constantly practicing on.  She gets frustrated dressing them, but she gets it in the long run.  Like she says, “It’s hard to be a perfectionist crip.”

Then, there’s the outsiders, who mean well, but again, they don’t live our life.  They only see certain aspects, and still they don’t see.  Joey and I joke that they’re not seeing 4^th dimensionally, thanks Back to the Future.  All kidding aside, we wonder how others’d make it in the same situation, because we’ve actually been told not to have kids, because it’d be too hard for us.  We’ve thought about these things.  But, where there’s a will, there’s a way, right?

Be good to each other.

-J-

Don't Underestimate Freaks.

“Gobble gobble, gobble gobble. We accept her. One of us, one of us,” chant the freaks in Tod Browning’s ’32 cult classic Freaks during midget, Hans’ (Harry Earles) and normal, Venus’ (Leila Hyams) wedding reception put on by the rest of the freaks while the one who really loves him, Frieda (Daisy Earles) looks on sadly.

So, last night, Joey and I watched Freaks for the first time this year.  It’s another grounding movie to us.  OK, so, for those in the know knows that Freaks is ultimately a revenge horror movie of the highest order, getting banned in the day in several countries and theaters here in the States, because it was deemed too extreme even with a rumor that it sent a viewer into labor…now, that’s a powerful movie…because, they were honestly freaks from Barnum and Bailey freak show.

Everytime, we watch Freaks, we root for the freaks, because they’re obviously the underdogs.  Now, in the day and probably to some extent today in some crowds, having who I’d call crips, which, in some crowds, would be considered derogatory and uncouth un-PC, on a movie screen depicting in a horror sense is considered uncool and exploitative.  But, look at the premise.  BEWARE, SPOILERS!

 

Hans pines for the ‘normal’ Venus when he has Frieda, a midget just like him, right in front of his face.  Venus realizes this, and uses it to her advantage with the help of her real lover, Hercules (Henry Victor) to get Hans’ perceived fortune by slowly poisoning him…except, the other freaks get wind of the plot.  The ending is considered one of the most shocking in movie history.

Browning, who worked in a circus before, got the idea for Freaks from this history.  He gave them jobs, which might’ve been there only movie credit, but they were stars and they were out there.  Now, after the movie came out, a few freaks reneged on liking their participation, because it was the first time people saw them...and, to be painted in that light.  Still, to me, it’s human nature to fend for oneself when threatened no matter the level of able-ness.

Be good to each other.

-J-

Wow, A Week!

So, wow, man, we’ve been online here for a week!  And, you guys are the reason, thank you for taking an interest in our rambling about life from the perspective of our world…Two Feet Below.

For the longest time, Joey and I’d been trying to figure out an activity we could collaborate on either outside or inside the house.  Well, of course, doing stuff afterhours is kind of hard when you factor provider schedules and lives, bus schedules, and sunset schedules to walk.  We decided early in our relationship that come sunset, we’d only do stuff close to the pad, because we walked home from the theater when one of the Lord of the Rings movies on.  One of the first major streets is Wadley, which normally isn’t that bad, but when I looked to the right, the sun was right in my eyes, so I was totally crossing by hearing.  After that, I decided never again.  Joey agreed.  Like I said, I’ve pulled some crazy stuff, especially by myself, but now, I’ve got Joey’s life I’m responsible for.

Then, she thought of Two Feet Below.

We’re both writers, granted with different styles, but if we were carbon copies, we’d be a boring pair with nothing to learn from each other…and, trust me, the world doesn’t need another me, LOL.

All kidding aside, thanks so much for letting us into your lives, and I hope we can keep delivering.  OH YEAH, feel free to drop us comments.

Be good to each other.

-J-

Riding the Fine Line of the Hard Role Model.

So, Mom just came by, and said she’d read a few of our blogs.  Although she said she liked it, she said I drop the f-bomb too much.  She said it made her think I didn’t have a wider vocabulary, which I’d heard before in other psychology articles and blogs.  It’s a flaw I’ve got, I admit…among many others.

While I think about it, I do want to be a role model to other crips, young and old, and sailor cussing isn’t one of the things I want to imbue in the kiddos…we already have a hard enough time making an impact in the able-bodied world without some jackweed crip spouting off unabashedly when there are hundreds of other ways to get the point across…I’m an English major after all.

I know I’m gonna get judged for being a pussy for listening to “Mommy,” because this is our blog and business, but oh well.  Either way, I’m here solely to put myself out there whether I drop an f-bomb or not (no apologies) for better or worse, and get people thinking and HOPEFULLY involved.

Be good to each other.

-J-

In a Love/Hate Relationship with the ADA.

So, I went to 7-11 for a couple drinks and a couple lottery tickets for Joey and me on Saturday.  We have one relatively close to our pad that I can walk to without having to cross any major streets, which really isn’t a problem, but why make things harder on myself, right?

Anyhoo, it reminded me of my school year '90. Noe and I’d been split up by my folks, because going to 7^th grade, I’d be going to Alamo, and my brother’d apparently had a hard time.  So, since Joey had a hard time, it stood to reason that Jason would too…at least that was their reasoning.  But, that’s another blog.

Noe and I were waiting for a football game to start at Midland Christian, and we were getting thirsty, so we went to a 7-11 for provisions.  We get there, and, damn, they didn't have a ramp. So, we went to another...same. WTF! By the time we got back to the school, the gate was closed, so we just walked around town until we made it back to my pad.

That year, the ADA (Americans With Disabilities Act) was passed calling for accessibility for crips in public places; however, places were fighting saying it was too costly to make simple ramps to let us in to give them business. Even at that age, we were pissed at the injustice, so Noe and I boycotted 7-11. That was the last free summer we had together. He died the next Summer. Mortality's a bitch.

Fast forward to today. Joey and I've got a love/hate relationship with the ADA. Yeah, we can get into most places, but once inside...yeeeeah. Here's the rub, and go with me on this, the ADA was made as a one size fits all made by made crips (ie. not born crips), which doesn't do shit for Joey when the toilet's a geriatric toilet set so high from the ground (Target), so a crip can't transfer from the floor like she does.  So, taking a leak when out is not happening…not cool. Furthermore, no crip wants to sit on a toilet where their feet don't touch the floor for stability, and, no, some bathrooms don't have handles...and, even then, they’re too high to hold as well…damn again.  There are millions of combinations of crippages.  Sound off.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY to all our friends born in January <3

Whip It Good!

Who remembers roller derby that used to be on TV in the day?  The guys were meh, because they were…guys…being guys.  Now, the girls that was something to see.  It was crazy to see those chicks, some prissy princesses, some butcher than the biggest roughneck…and, they could whip the hell out of each other around the track…great fun to experience.

Now, instead of dudes or chicks on skates, think of the same thing with a wheelchair!  OK, so, I got my electric wheelchair before Noe got his, so what we’d do going through the school halls or the mall is he’d hold onto the push handle of my chair as we went.  Every now and then, he’d stretch his arm to get as much slack as his arm could stand…then, he’d pull as hard as he could, and shoot past me for as long as his momentum would carry him.  I’d catch up to him, and we’d have another go.  Yeah, it was goofy fun and people’d stare, but they stared anyway.  So, why not give them something to remember us by, right?

The thing was, when I whipped Noe, like the roller derby chicks, there was no steering or stopping.  It was just a joyride to wherever...hopefully, a straight shot, but more often than not sideswiping a trashcan or the rogue kid…or worse the girl whose ass we were following.  If his wheels started shimmying, which was pretty easy to do in the old rickety manual chairs back in the day, he wasn’t gonna be going straight.  If his wheel caught something, that was his ass!  Thankfully, nothing happened to that extent.  Picking his ass would’ve been a bitch.  Still, those were fun times.

Be good to each other.

-J-