Veddy Pinteresting

People are blogging. And Twittering. And Pinteresting. Me? I'm baking. A new incarnation. I've got cookie recipes that will knock your socks off. In a good way.

But, while I bake, I ponder social networks. I spend a lot of time on the internet. Far more than I should and doing far less than needs doing. Dusting, for example. I've never been one who keeps up with the dusting. Nowadays, forget it. There is always something far more interesting happening online than brushing dust off the furniture. At least this is what I tell myself, even though I'm pretty sure I could catch up on everything pertinent to my life in about 20 minutes or less - email, Facebook, done. I don't really need to check all my favorite food blogs every single day OR wander around Pinterest oogling things that total strangers find interesting. Do I?

Years ago, a co-worker gave me this book about the Amish. The message, as I recall, was how to praise God in the simplest of ways. A well-made bread, for example, was akin to a prayer of the highest order. And, really, isn't that how it should be? The book followed one woman who journeyed into Amish country and discovered  that the Amish know "there is nothing 'out there', just the 'timeless present.'"

It makes me laugh to imagine what the Amish would think of Pinterest. And then I laugh because it's all so self-indulgent.

I think I'm in danger of losing something of real value: Myself.

Self-awareness. That's the key. Maybe there's hope for me yet, yanno, if I can avoid Pinterest. Instead of looking at cookies, I could bake some. Well-made, of course. They are, after all, a prayer of the highest order.

Hey God? You listening?

Got Mensa?

There are days and then, there are days like this. I'd like to say I was informed - that at some point during my upbringing, someone shared that days like this are out there and sometimes, without warning, they swoop in and play a series of games that would mess with the minds of many a Mensa member.

But, alas, seems I missed school that day.

Okay, I admit it. I am very naive at times. Things slip by me unnoticed on a fairly regular basis. Sometimes I catch them in the periphery of my vision, and by the time I blink - whoosh - they are gone. And yes, on occasion, I stare at them, bold as brass and then go on my merry way, feigning ignorance. Oftentimes, keeping my head in the sand is pretty much the only way I get through the day.

But, today. Yeah, today. Today, a giant wallop of reality has come home to roost and man, it's big girl stuff. I'll figure it out. I always do, and when I do, life will be good, or at least, more informed than it is now.

Yes, ma'am, information is a powerful thing.

But...just one question: is it a good thing or a bad thing that, at twelve, my daughter already knows about days like this?

*sigh*

Mos Eisley Cantina

Before we got married, we used to drive around back country roads and end up in odd little diners like this one. The food is always incredibly greasy but so good! They are populated by a motley crew of townsfolk who all seem to know one another well enough to say 'hello' but look at you as if you're a recent visitor from the Twilight Zone.

You have to know my guy to appreciate the twinkle he sometimes gets in his eye. I spotted it right off. He poured cream into his coffee, smiled at me and said, "they have pie." I cracked up. We've been married twenty-two years. We get each other's humor.

We talked about a lot of things today: songwriting, teaching, politics, the fact that Han shot first. We made up stories about the locals. Yeah. We're silly like that sometimes.

Earlier we met with 'the team' to write Speedy Pete's IEP. It's always an arduous process. SP's getting older. Today we were asked how we envision his post-academic future.

Whoa. Heavy-duty.

I'm not sure how to answer it. He wants to be a marine biologist. Am I supposed to say he can't? Am I supposed to tell them that he'll never go to college? Write him off before he even has a chance? Decide for him what he's supposed to be?

They must be thinking I'm someone else's mother.

We didn't give them an answer.

At the diner, we talked and laughed and recharged. It was a good day.

Behavior is Communication

You hear that a lot when you have a kid with autism. Kids with autism can't always say what they think, or how they feel, or what they want to tell you. Instead, you get behavior. And then you try to figure out what it means. Try, because while you won't always be successful (as a matter of fact, you will fail to figure it out a great portion of the time), you will still want to try, because, well...look at him. Wouldn't you want to know what he's thinking?

He's perfect, in every way. He looks like my husband, but with the slender fingers of a pianist. His hair has lost the reddish tint he was handed down from my grandfather. He has blue eyes. His face is changing, the way faces do when they wind their way through puberty. Above his lips soft hair forms a the beginnings of a mustache. He's almost as tall as me. He's growing muscles in all the right places. There are hearts out there he would have broken.

He aggravates us to no end. "How can he look like that and act like this?" "This" being the incessant, idiotic, bizarre strangeness that sometimes makes us all feel like we are going crazy. What is he trying to tell us?

Damned if I know.