Where the future is…

For almost as long as Jeffery has been going to school, we have taken advantage of the ESY (extended school year). We do this to try to make sure that he doesn’t fall back on progress he has made throughout the standard school session. It is agreed upon and specifically discussed every year in the same way his IEP is. After over 12 years of school you might think this is something we would have down to a science. In this case it’s a science only if the the scientist is “Dr. Bunsen Honeydew” and his assistant “Beaker.”

For starters, we were told before the end of the school year, that Jeffery would be going to JR Tucker, one of the local high schools that participate during the summer with a special needs program. This was the mindset we were in. The fact that we received emails that clearly mentioned that he would instead be going to Douglas Freeman were somehow not processed in our supposedly intellectual brains. We just heard that drum beat mantra of JR Tucker in our head… JR Tucker … JR Tucker… goes together like jam and and “Smuckers.” (Sing it to the tune of “Love and Marriage” from “Married with Children”…to get the full effect. Focus Man…focus!

So his first day of summer school comes and of course, the transportation department has not yet told us when Jeffery would be picked up or the schedule he will follow. Because of this, we decided to take him to school that first day. We drove to JR Tucker with all the confidence of parents who knew what THEY were doing. We took him to the office and they blinked and looked at us as if we were trying to sell them encyclopedias. Nevertheless, they called a teacher over and she lead us to the special needs rooms and she started asking around if any of them had Jeffery on their roster. While some of them recognized Jeffery from previous years, none of them had him on their lists. It was then, ONLY then that we decided to re-examine our latest emails in regards to the ESY. Man…who misspelled JR Tucker so badly that it reads Douglas Freeman? We were at the wrong school. Fortunately, they are not too far away from each other so we loaded up the truck and drove to Douglas Free…Freeman that is. Another school…summer school. (Imagine banjo music). “Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!! FOCUS!!

We once again took Jeffery to the office and fortunately, they actually were expecting him. A little sooner than when WE got there, but at least he was at the right place…sort of. Once we dropped him off and found out when we needed to pick him up, we researched what went on here. What we found out was that indeed, Jeffery was SUPPOSED to go to JR Tucker but they accidentally put him at Freeman. Since he was already in their system we decided to leave him there. This was also because their campus was more the enclosed school building as opposed to the more open campus of JR Tucker. With Jeffery’s perchance to wander, especially in a new place, we liked the more secure closed building. Now that this was settled, all we needed to iron out transportation.

Once we called transportation, we found out that they were operating under the same thought we were. They had been informed that Jeffery was going to Tucker and they had come by to pick him up previously. Might have been nice had someone told US. (By the way, I looked…this was a not a message we missed…now THAT’s a first). Apparently transportation and us were the only ones told he would be going to Tucker…someone forgot to tell Tucker. 🤔 They told us it would take until the end of the week to get this straightened out. That meant Mom’s red bus was still on the job. So, the end of the week came and went and we were still not any closer to getting transportation nailed down. Eventually they called and said that they would be here around 6:30am to pick up Jeffery arriving close to the 7:30 start time .and they would be bringing him back between 2:30 – 3:00 pm from a 1:30 dismissal. That was a lot of time on a bus. After discussing it and consulting the “magic 8 ball” who told us “It was decidedly so”…whatever THAT means, we decided that Mom would continue to take him to school and he would ride the bus home.

Well we got that settled…or so we thought. We have only had one other problem. You might as well use that magic 8 ball again to guess when his bus will arrive. It has varied from 1:55 pm to 3:00 pm. Maybe it depends on if the buses flux capacitor is operating at maximum efficiency? You would think we could get this narrowed down some. Perhaps some more experiments are needed…perhaps at “Muppet Labs, where the future is being made, today!”

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That’s not MY Bed!

By now everyone who has read any of these posts about my son knows he is a creature of habit. To the Nth degree.  If he were a superhero he would be NOChange Man. That doesn’t mean he has no loose coinage. That means that the boy abhors change, whether that be food, clothes, or even his bed.

In all honesty however, he has had that bed for almost 10 years. It was a cheap bed when we bought it and the years haven’t made it somehow better. It did serve its purpose and more importantly, it served Jeffery’s purpose. It became his Haven from noisy guests, loud nephews, and basically everyone else.

To fulfill its tasks however, certain jobs had to be accomplished. The bed needed to be made. How could it be his fortress of solitude with disheveled blankets? It also needed to be pushed firmly up against the wall. Especially the headboard. He needed  it to be as close and personal with the wall as it could be. Why? Who knows?? If it was not, he would get up and make sure it was. A quick push and all was right with the world.

So where is all this leading? Well, as I have mentioned, before in this venue, my wife is taking care of her Mother who is in the advanced stages of Alzheimer’s. No one who has taken on this great responsibility needs to be reminded of the great sacrifices made to render such care. Recently, my wife was able to acquire a hospital bed that raised and lowered. This made putting Mom to bed easier but required the removal of her bed. Seeing as Jeffery’s bed was showing its age, we decided to swap out the beds. Mom’s would go to Jeffery’s room, and Jeffery’s would go disassembled into the upstairs closet, for now. That was the plan.

Of course, taking Jeffery’s bed apart required some work because it was being held together by some extremely long screws. Somewhere back in the day, we had to replace the original hardware with those long monstrosities. As I think about it now, I am not sure why that happened. More than likely it was the results of constant aggressive pushes against the wall. Eventually the original screws became untenable and we resorted to the overkill set. The end result was it took half the tool bag to breakdown his headboard from the bed frame. Once the bed was disassembled, the real work began. Taking on the killer dust bunnies that had taken residence under his bed. Luckily, with a whip, chair, and a vacuum, we were able to defeat them and clear the way for the new bed. During this time, Jeffery came into the room a few times, mildly interested but seemingly unconcerned. At least until his bed disappeared. He looked around…but he still didn’t seemed too panicked. He probably thought, “Ok, you had your fun. You can put my bed back please.” Then he left the room.

While he was away, we retrieved Mom’s bed and assembled it in place of his old one. Everything was in place. It looked good. Much better than his old bed. If there was one possible issue it would be that because this bed was built a little differently, it’s headboard did NOT go up against the wall. It sat at least two inches off the wall. Hardly a deal breaker we thought. And we were right. That wasn’t the problem. It wasn’t that the bed didn’t go against the wall. The problem was it was not HIS bed.

He knew he had seen that bed before…but where? Suddenly, it dawned on him. He went down stairs to Mom’s room to see if her bed was still there. There WAS a bed there, but it was not HER bed. He had stumbled upon some kind of bed conspiracy and he was just the man to get to the bottom of it. The first thing he needed to resolve was, what had happened to HIS bed. Apparently I didn’t erase my steps very well because he figured out very quickly where his bed was. He took me by the hand and walked me up the stairs and opened up the closet. He then pointed toward the bed in his prescribed manner of pointing. He puts his fingers together as if he is holding a pencil and gestures toward whatever he is trying to get your attention focused on. It was like, “Ummm…Dad? Obviously you forgot here you put MY bed and accidentally put this one in its place. Now that you know…could you PLEASE put MY bed back?” The answer to that son was, No.

”I’m sorry, Son. This is your NEW bed. New Bed….Old Bed. New Bed….Old Bed.” All the while gesturing to his old bed just like he does…for some reason. We thought there might be a serious problem. I could envision myself having to take this bed down and rebuilding his old one. He surprised me however. While he was somewhat reluctant that first night to accept the bed as his own, he has adapted. He still pushes the mattress over closer to the wall since he can’t push the bed frame itself anywhere. But he is good with his new bed, although he made it quite clear in the beginning: “That’s not MY bed!”

 

 

It’s Your Turn

Since we talked about food last time, lets continue the subject. This time about Jeffery’s breakfast. As I believe I have mentioned in the past, generally Jeffery has the same thing for breakfast every morning. Sugar-free Maple and Brown Sugar Oatmeal (Sounds like an oxymoron to have it be sugar free and brown sugar), bananas, and V-8 fusion. During the weekday, he’ll have just one serving of each before he heads to the shower to get ready for school. On the weekend, however, he gets two helpings, or as he says, “More Please.”

Now, watching Jeffery eat breakfast is a fascinating study of his eating routine. He eats things in order. Which is not that unusual for me as when I get a burger and fries, I eat the fries first before I touch the burger. Why?? Who knows. Maybe I’m afraid someone is going to pilfer some of my fries. In Jeffery’s case, he eats the oatmeal first, then the bananas, and finally the drink.

Depending on how thick the oatmeal is made, this can take a minimal amount of time as he loads the spoon down with each bite. Sometimes it reminds you of the old “Beverly Hillbillies” with Jethro making sparks fly on the metal pan he is eating from. Once the Oatmeal has been vanquished, he moves on to the bananas. For these, he takes his fork and stabs as many as he can on onto the tines and shoves the entire assembly line into his mouth. I firmly believe if the fork had long enough tines, he would eat the entire bowl in one mouthful. It’s a marvel to watch.

Finally, he takes his drink. At least in this, he takes a breather between gulps. It’s not a large glass so within three gulps it is usually done. Almost. Now he tips the glass to his mouth to try to extract every last bit of liquid in the glass. No residue is too small to try to gather. At least he is not wasteful. He makes every drop count.

The main difference for Jeffery as far as breakfast goes is who gets the honor of making it. During the week, when I am at work, Mom makes his breakfast. But on the weekend, it’s Dad’s job. Jeffery has ordained it so. (Although I am not sure Mom didn’t give him these instructions). Now, no matter if we are both in the room, if its the Weekend, it’s Dad’s job. “Breakfast please, Daddy.” Its your turn.

What’s on the Menu?

Ever since Jeffery has finished with the feeding clinic so many years ago, he has been pretty good at eating a variety of foods. However, he still wants things how he wants them. That means that there is a specific pattern to what he eats for dinner each night. What’s more, it is absolutely necessary for him to go through the menu to make sure the chef is onboard with the program. Can’t have your culinary artist going all rogue on you. Therefore, a recitation of the evening’s fare is not only required, its crucial.

So, in order of the particular day, it is Monday: Sandwiches and French Fries. Tuesday: Sandwiches and French Fries. Wednesday: Tortellini (Red, Yellow, Green) with a side of broccoli. Thursday: Sandwiches and French Fries. Friday: Pizza. There should be no deviating from this plan. (Although it has happened on occasion when there was a supply and demand issue. He demanded Tortellini and we couldn’t supply it because we hadn’t made it to the store). In those rare instances, he has made out just fine with a substitution but that doesn’t mean its not against the rules.

To insure that everything is as it should be, usually right before its time to start putting the culinary wheels in motion, he will come down and confirm his order. This of course depends on what day it is. Like Today for example, is Wednesday. So he’ll approach whoever he runs into first, whether it be Mom or Dad and announce: “Wednesday!” The proper response should be “Red, Yellow, Green (Tortellini). He’ll then recite the rest of the week to make sure there are no slip ups. Him: “Thursday!” Us: “Sandwiches and French Fries.” Him: “Friday!” Us: “Pizza!” He’ll then repeat the current day’s Special to make sure we haven’t somehow forgotten already. Him: “Wednesday!” Us: “Red, Yellow Green!” “Red, Yellow, Green!” He’ll then repeat, so they’ll be NO WAY we can screw that up! He then takes his leave, confident that when dinner is served, it will measure up to his exacting standards and consist of the proper food item.

After dinner he’ll have a Crystal Light Lemonade Chaser to wash it all down with and he’ll be on his way to do Jeffery things until it’s time for a shower and bedtime. The next afternoon, his requests will be made once again so he may dine knowing that we’ll follow the guidelines set. After all, it will be time once again for America’s favorite afternoon Game Show,  “What’s on the Menu?”

 

 

I’m Ok, I’m Alright.

It has been so long since I last posted anything to this site, you may have thought I had dropped off the planet. No, you are not that lucky. I have been busy lately writing for my other gig as a contributor to Geek Vibes Nation. GVN is a site that covers all things Geek related. From movies, to television, to comics, to sports, to electronics, we cover just about anything. Hopefully with a fresh perspective and an open mind. Please feel free to check the website out and look for Mllkat (that’s me). Now back to what used to be our regularly scheduled blog.

Jeffery is almost 17 years old. If that doesn’t make me feel old, nothing will. He is still doing well and continues to be a ray of sunshine in our lives…when we don’t want to put a muzzle on him. I’m kidding, I swear Honey. For those of you who have been a regular reader to this blog, (or at least you used to until I seemingly abandoned ship), you know that one of Jeffery’s charms is to pick up a phrase and stick with it. One of his new catch phrases is, “I’m Ok, I’m Alright. Are you OK, Are you Alright?” This requires the phrase repeated back to him….and then the cycle begins. The first three or four times are ok. After that you really want to move on with your life. Unfortunately, according to the contract we signed with Jeffery, Inc. We are obligated until HE decides we are done. Without some quick thinking that could take some time.

After about the fourth time, we will say, “OK, Last One.” He’ll go through the round again but with no last one in sight. Time to step up to phase two. “Ok, Last one. Promise?” He’ll repeat, “Promise?” and then dump two or three more “I’m OK, I’m Alright. Are you OK, Are you Alright?” on us…just to make sure we understand what’s going on here. By now, some of that long earned and practiced patience is starting to leak a little. “All right, Jeffery. One more and that’s it, or we’re taking your iPad.” The problem with this little threat is we seldom follow through. Of course the reason for that is under normal circumstances, he’ll acquiesce. Ok, Jeffery, go!”

The magic word we are looking for in this exchange is “Craaaazzzzyyyyyy!” Now why he feels that is the concluding term to this exercise is unknown. Perhaps he is telling us we must be crazy to keep humoring him for this long. But at least to us, there has never in the history of the English language been a more sweeter word than “Craaaazzzzyyyyyy!” “Ok, Jeffery, Last One…Promise? or we’ll take your iPad. Go!” “I’m Ok, I’m Alright! Are you Ok. Are You Alright?” Followed by our response and then the word we have been waiting to hear. “Ready? Here we go!” “NOOOOOOOO!!!!” We want “Craaaazzzzyyyyyy!” We must have “Craaaazzzzyyyyyy!” Of course, Jeffery’s looking at us like, You want “Craaaazzzzyyyyyy?!” Looks like you have plenty already.

Eventually, he’ll take pity on us and give us the desired cosign and our mission is complete…for now. But don’t worry. Right after School he’ll be back to check on us and make sure to verify: “I’m Ok, I’m Alright. Are You Ok, Are You Alright?”

Post Script: For Christmas, Our Daughter bought for my wife a fitting book, if nothing else for the title of the book. “I’m OK, You’re OK” by Dr. Thomas Harris. Is she trying to tell us something?

A Hero’s Work is Never Done…

I’ve made no secret how much I love my wife. She is and has been my hero for as long as we have been together. She has borne the brunt of taking care of our son, her mother and myself and complains very seldom about it. Probably because there are lots of other things she complains about but let’s not go THERE.

Last night was a perfect example of why there is a sainthood in her future…at least as far as I am concerned. It was the typical weekend night with all the usual suspects: our Grandson George, and Jeffery who both needed to be corralled and sent to the shower and to bed. I got Jeffery’s room prepped and his iPad plugged in for the night and got him into the shower. It was shave time for Jeffery so Mom took over to help him while I got Georgie into the shower. My job was to made sure he washed himself and his hair appropriately unlike the readers digest version he would like to do which is to wet himself down and call it a day. Once he brushed his teeth, I got him out of the shower and put him to bed. He likes to play on his tablet before he goes to sleep so we let it charge during his shower and whatever the charge is when he is ready for bed that is what he gets. Since he pretty much uses it all day, that gave him about a 14% charge. Perfect…once it dies you are done and it is time to sleep. That is the rule. At least that is what we thought…

In the meantime, Mom is finishing with Jeffery and asks that I get him out of the shower while she finished cleaning up the kitchen and making his lunch for school tomorrow. I put out his Jeffery approved pajama set of Harry Potter and left him to dream sweet nothings. Man, I’m on top of this. I now need to check on Kathy and see how it’s going. But first, let me lay down for just a moment. The next thing I know, it’s 4:30am. I look to my left and no wife. I go downstairs ready to give her a dose of crap about staying up so late (she would have done it to me) and figure I’ll see her at the kitchen table but nothing. Now I am still somewhat sleepy so my next though is…”OMG she finally had enough and she left!” Then I thought, “No way she would leave Shangri-La, she has to be somewhere else.”

I go to Georgie’s room and sure enough, I hear the rhythmic cadence of snoring in stereo. (The following is information I was given after the fact. I am including it now to keep consistent with the narrative, sincerely your blogger person). Apparently, after Georgie’s tablet gave out, he decided he was bored and needed more entertainment. He went to see “Ma” as he calls her to provide him with something to do. Sleeping was seemingly not on that list. So much for our “rule.” Georgie must have decided that since this “rule” never made it through both houses of Congress (what DOES these days) it was non-binding and more of a suggestion than a hard-fast “rule.”

So my sweet wife told him to go back to bed and she would come lay with him as soon as she finished. Usually by the time she checks on him he is fast asleep. Not this time. He was wide awake and waiting. She made a last ditch attempt by telling him she needed to get her pajamas on and she would return. Again, he defied her attempt and was still up and waiting. So she laid down next to him and fell asleep. A few hours later is where I came in so we have come full circle. I debated about leaving her there since she was sleeping but after some thought, I decided to get her up to go to our bed. I lead her by the hand and not long after she was snoring again…until.

It had been storming that night and somewhere during that time we must have lost power at some point. I know this because within about 30 minutes, Jeffery came through the door. “SextonHome,” please. Those of you who have read a previous post know what THAT means. The internet was down. How did he know? Jeffery listens to music as he sleeps and when the internet connection is lost, so is the song. Apparently, this was enough to waken him. He quickly surmised the situation and decided a full scale breach was required to enter Mom and Dad’s room to solve the issue. Before I could respond, she quickly connected him to her phone hotspot so he could once again connect to his music and off he went. I’m not sure how much sleep she got after that before the cycle of the day started again but it couldn’t have been much.

It once again proves, a hero’s work is never done.

Bedtime has been officially cancelled

One of the things that makes Jeffery very similar to other children his age is his choice of clothing. He wants to wear what HE wants to wear. Those choices are not emphasized when he goes out. He will usually wear a pair of jeans or a pair of shorts (depending on the time of year) and an Oxford style shirt. Long sleeved or short sleeved depending again on the weather. As long as the shirt is buttoned all the way to his chin and his hair is combed to his liking, (he decides when THAT is) he’s ready to hit the town. It’s when he’s going to bed when his selective style comes into play. He WILL NOT wear a pajama shirt, a colored T-Shirt, or in most cases a pair of cotton shorts. He demands a soft pair of pajama pants and a white T-shirt. He does not care if there is a printed design on the shirt but it has to be soft cotton, and needs to be white. The reason for this is not clear but bedtime will NOT be happening too soon unless his wardrobe demands are met. If you try to slip in a colored shirt he will immediately take it off and throw it in his dirty clothes hamper. “This shirt might as well be dirty for all the good it does me. How DARE you try to pass off this sham of a fashion statement! Now bring me what I want and be quick about it!” The same goes with the pajama pants. Nothing thick, nothing slick, it needs to be thin, soft cotton and if it has a string on the waist, all the better. These days he rotates between his Dallas Cowboys pajamas ( Dad’s personal favorites), his Batman pajamas, and a new edition to the Jeffery collection: Harry Potter pajamas. All of these have met with the Jeffery Sexton seal of approval. I’m pretty sure clothing designers the world over are fighting to get THAT assurance of quality. Anything else and you might as well settle in for a long night because bedtime has been officially cancelled.

He doesn’t have the words for sad…

One of Jeffery’s many gifts is his capacity for empathy. He is extremely sensitive to the feelings and pain in others. When Jeffery believes someone is hurting or feeling angry or sad, he picks up on those emotions and responds immediately. He is especially sensitive to someone’s hurt if he might have caused it. For example, he and I were laying on his bed and he accidentally elbowed me in the head. It did not hurt but I said “Ow” basically to let him know he hit me. He immediately placed his hand on my head where he hit me and left it there with a concerned look on his face. I waited about 10-15 seconds and then I told him it was ok. He immediately pulled his hand away with a look of relief and probably thinking, “Yes, yes…I healed you, think nothing of it. Oh, and try to be more careful next time.” He is like that whenever he realizes someone is hurt. He places his hands on the injured spot to try to make you feel better…and looking into that sweet face, it has no choice but to feel better, even if it doesn’t.

For emotions, he goes through a list he learned early on in school when they were trying to get him to express his feelings in a more constructive way than just yelling. It goes kind of like this: Angry-Grrrr, Mad-a growl (seems kind of redundant with angry but it’s not OUR list), Surprise-“Oh, really?!”, Sigh- “Sighhhhhh” Happy-“a giggle”, Sad- “?”

Why the question mark? It’s because apparently, they never gave him one for sad. Perhaps that is one they hope he wouldn’t embrace. So when Mommy tells him she is sad he counters with “Angry-Grrr” and then follows up with “Happy, Mommy.” Which is where he wants her to eventually get to. Probably because he doesn’t have the words for sad. I wish we all lacked that word. Thank you, Son.

I want them done, wholesale.

One of our main goals has been to teach Jeffery how to do things on his own. As much as we aspire to live forever, eventually our son will have to be able to do some things for himself. In the past, we have worked with him on getting dressed, combing his hair, and brushing his teeth. So far so good. This will come in handy when he has to do the same for us. 🤔

As time has gone on, he has become accustomed to putting his dishes in the sink after a meal, helping to empty the dishwasher, and throw things away when necessary. These things are setting a bad example for Mom who just might think her husband should be doing the same thing. Bad Jeffery…Bad!

Jeffery will also re-supply the refrigerator bottled water supply when he has taken one for his lemonade fix. He doesn’t have to be told to do this, in the spirit of the old “Nike” ads. He just does it. I would have said “Just Do it” but that would have been grammatically incorrect in this sentence. (Some school English lessons die hard). In fact, we haven’t had a problem with running out of water since he started assuming that responsibility. He’s OUR water boy.

Another of the jobs he has taken upon himself to accomplish is to discard any and all empty pizza boxes to the outside trash. To his way of thinking, NOTHING is more depressing than an empty pizza box. It just brings back memories of what used to be. We feel you son, we feel the same way about empty “Krispy Kreme” boxes. They are too depressing.

Recently, his summer aide has started working with Jeffery in making his own breakfast. This consists of making oatmeal with apple sauce, cutting bananas, and pouring juice. All of which are definitely in his wheel house. However, that DOESN’T mean he’s ready to assume the reigns entirely. My wife said that this morning, he made it a point to keep his distance from the kitchen so Mom wasn’t deluded into thinking HE was going to be making breakfast. In fact he only circulated through the kitchen to check if his breakfast had made a landing on the table. I’m pretty sure his main concern was if he learned to do TOO much on his own, Mom might feel unneeded. Please don’t make ME make YOU feel obsolete, Mom. Please??

Maybe Jeffery will learn how to do so many things on his own that he will be less dependent on assistance when we are no longer around. That would always be our hope. Of course, Jeffery probably hopes that he will some how be able to afford to get some things done for him…”I would like you to do these things for me so I don’t have to…and I want them done wholesale.”

Sexton Home

Home

Ah, the Sexton Home. It’s our little slice of heaven on earth. Well, a slice of heaven with a 30 year mortgage but let’s not let THAT define it. It’s the place where life happens. Where we discovered that purple, blue and yellow COULD co-exist on the same walls (who would have known Lizzy) and that carpets COULD be found to match it. That rooms would be defined by their color and not their function. “You’ll find that in the PINK bedroom. Look in the YELLOW bathroom.” It is where I readily agreed when my wife decided to redecorate that one of the first things to go was our ROSE PINK bathroom. UNMANLY I say!

The Sexton Home was the place where Jeffery learned to walk, to sing, and to talk ( in his own manner). Bikes were rode, fences were crashed into, sticks were thrown into the pond, and multiple fish met their demise by threats foreign and domestic. It became the home to the playground where both Jeffery and our Grandson George learned to slide, walk up the slide, and climb. It is the home of the world famous “Kicking Bush” that helped to teach Jeffery to swing. Cookouts, photo ops, and all manner of life happened here. It is our home.

So you would think when Jeffery comes to us and says “Sexton Home,” it should fill us with a warmth that he knows this is where he belongs. It embodies safety, security and family. Makes you feel all warm and fuzzy just thinking about it, doesn’t it?Unfortunately, when Jeffery says it, no such “Waltonesque” visions appear. What it really means is our internet connection is down. Yes, SextonHome is the name of our WiFi network. When he comes to us with SextonHome, we know that the earth has fallen off its axis and dogs and cats ARE playing together. CHAOS! The problem is, when the WiFi fails, there is generally nothing we can do as it is an XFINITY system problem. All we can tell him is we are aware of the situation and he will have to be patient…and so will we. This will not stop the repetitive refrain of “SextonHome” or the equally acceptable “SextonHome5” which is our other network. This was especially true yesterday as an XFINITY repair man came to the house to address a cable issue. As he worked, it required disconnecting the system from time to time. Every time he did this, it requires a few minutes to reset so Jeffery got his exercise in going up and down the stairs to inform us that the SextonHome is not working for him and relocation just might be necessary. Look into it!

Eventually, after changing out different cable boxes, the router, and re-wiring the outside cable system, he found that the main lead from the source was the problem so he installed a new line that would require burying. The last time that was necessary it took them almost a year for them to bury the line. Let’s hope for better this time. The good thing to come out of it was our humble abode was once again the place Norman Rockwell wished he painted. But what else could be expected at the Sexton Home.