costuming

Mindlessly scrolling through instagram yesterday, and I came upon this:

Ain't it the truth!? 

Sometimes I'd get bored sitting in a class and get up to sharpen my pencil when unwarranted just for a change. We all did it, didn't we? And yes, it helped if the outfit was fire.

The pencil sharpener was one thing - maybe more a middle school tactic. In high school, my English teacher was quite fastidious and kept several bottles of Liquid Paper® on his desk - front and center of the classroom - handy for when we really thought we had something to share or for when checking out "feeds" from others.  Walk the "runway" to the front of the class and back under the guise of needing some Liquid Paper®. Does that even still exist?

Note: I shared the pencil sharpener meme with Magnum, he didn't get it at first. Then he assumed it was more of a girl thing.

Oh no no no. Boys definitely played that game. So Magnum said he didn't realize. He was trying not to be seen in high school. Okay, now that makes sense. 😂

These days, I stare at my closet... 

I get by with throwing together and mixing and matching the same old things, but I'm due for a shopping trip combined with a bit of closet purge.

I'm not a big fan of clothes shopping. It's so time consuming, not to mention the frustration of women's sizing.

I did, however, obtain some new shoes for running yesterday. I'd gone to the local running store a little over a week ago with the shoes I wanted already in mind.  The store was out of my size, so offered to order them in for me. 

I went in yesterday to pick them up, easy peasy. 

"Enjoy your new shoes!", the saleswoman said as the transaction completed.

"Thanks, you too", I said on my way out the door. 

Sheesh, I am bad at shopping.

they probably wouldn't want him anyway?

In addition to our on-street mailbox, we have a P.O. box.  We got it several years ago to handle mailings we want to keep secure - credit card, other financial stuff, and the like.  We don't check the P.O. box that regularly, about once or twice a month.  I empty it if we're expecting something specific or if I happen to be at the post office.  It does tend to get stuffed with junk mail, so it's good to swing by just to clean it out and make room for the next round of junk.

Yesterday, I was out joyriding around on my bicycle running a few errands and decided to swing by the P.O. box as it had been about 3 weeks since I last emptied it.  As I was going through the pile of sale flyers, insurance offers, and charitable requests, one piece of legitimate mail appeared:  a jury summons. For Magnum.

Apparently, he'd put the p.o. box address when filling out something related to his driver's license.  And apparently, driver's license info is a  main source of the jury duty pool.  Magnum's in Denver this week for some work related training, so I opened the jury summons to see his appearance date.

It was for last week.  *GASP*.

We're not sure of how much, if any, trouble he's in.  We couldn't find anything specific online.  I think he's going to try contacting the jury commissioner. 

Both of us have been summoned a few times, but have never had to serve on a jury.  The one time I made it to the questioning box, the defense asked for a recess before asking me any questions.  They came back and had decided on a deal.  That's apparently how formidable I am 😝

Magnum was questioned once.  He'd brought his Asperger's with him that day.  I think the case had something to do with a DUI.  In answer to his question, Magnum began with,

"The fourth amendment of the constitution states..."

After Magnum delivered his brief civics lesson, the lawyers didn't say much else.  Then they conversed quietly among themselves and sent Magnum packing. 

Want to be dismissed from jury duty?  Start quoting the constitution.

falling rocks!

Actually, no.  It typically doesn't.  😏

Have you ever done a thing that you weren't expecting to do, and the thing ends up being amazing?  Or you have low expectations that are way exceeded, like, way?

This past weekend, we took a quick camping trip, not really expecting anything special. The whole thing was sort of born out of, "well, we haven't been camping in a while...", like we needed to change the oil or something.

We'd heard of Black Canyon of the Gunnison, but had never been there, and Magnum managed to find an available camping spot, so we reserved it and made plans to go.  Surprisingly, the whole fam was available and willing.

So we got there late Saturday, and no one really knew anything about it.

Me:  I thought you had researched this place

Chaco:  I don't know anything about it, I thought you and Dad researched it

Magnum:  I saw it on a map of Colorado...

Wolfgang:  I googled some images last night after you said where we were going...

Meego:  ...

So, the clueless went camping. Bottom line?  Sometimes that can be the best way to go and be pleasantly surprised!

But I'll skip the campground, because that was nothing to blog anywhere about.  But the canyon!

SOURCE

Oh.  My.  God.




We got to the campground and found a trail that followed the rim of the canyon, so we could look down into it.




But we were still clueless about the place.  Was it possible we could GO down into it?



Answer: Yes

Us:  Yipee










There are a number of steep trails that take hikers down to the canyon bowels.  They have names like "S.O.B. Draw" and "Devil's Backbone" and "Long Draw," formerly known as "Devil's Slide".

We chose the one that looked the most friendly, because we'd been clueless and because of Magnum's knees.

And it was way fun and amazing and exceeded our expectations.  Surprise weekend fun.  The trail was about a mile long with a vertical drop of 1800 feet.



It was quite steep, but with plenty of large rocks and tree roots to get footing on, unlike much of the other trails, which aren't all that well marked and are loaded with scree.












Plus, about a third of the way down was an 80 ft. long chain to help keep us from plummeting to our deaths through a particularly steep portion.

So it was actually quite fun getting down there, and of course, the views were extraordinary

After getting ourselves back up and out, we all agreed that our expectations for "going camping" were exceeded.  Magnum still has his knees, although he said the hike

"kicked my ass"

He's usually the master of preparation as well as Mr. Worst Case Scenario, so this sort of thing was outside his comfort zone for a number of reasons.  He was betting on us dying from heat exhaustion and/or dehydration.

I assured him that we would not.

...since the fall would probably kill us.

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I just wanna say

Magnum and I took a chilly old folk's walk last night.

"I saw today that that guy who killed his dad with a bow and arrow at Casper College had Asperger's too", Magnum noted.

"Oh great.  Ban people with Asperger's?", I contemplated.

"Well, I can fake normal", he said with mock confidence.

"No.  You can't", I joked but not really.

Yes, the Aspies have been getting some negative press lately.  My Asperger wife friend Maureen posted a damage control article on facebook, but I don't feel a need to do similar here.  My readers know Magnum's not a monster.  Violent?  PSSSH.

Honestly, when it comes to just getting all authoritative with the kids, even that usually falls to me.  Magnum's too much of a softie.  It wasn't Asperger's that killed those children. Personally, I think it was most likely a number of things that aligned into the Perfect Storm.

And that's all the press I want to give to that loser.   Besides, the world ends tomorrow.

But just in case the forecasters are wrong, we'll probably go get our Christmas tree then.  I realize it's last minute, but I didn't want to have another living thing to be responsible for on End of the World Day.

We always get our trees relatively late because, (1) we get a live potted tree, so it doesn't come into the house until just before Christmas anyways, and (2) the longer we wait, the bigger the bargain.  The nursery people practically pay us to take one.  Maybe the late tree buying is our version of Black Friday shopping?  And we mustn't forget, (3) we're just disorganized that way.

In other shopping and Christmas preparedness news, I'm crossing my fingers that we have more to show for Meego's gift on Christmas morning than a pack of vacuum cleaner bags.   More on that to follow.

Unless the world ends.
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but it's got a great personality!

Lately, we've been thinking a little more about replacing the beloved Subaru.  Her latest collapse a few weeks ago was yet another reminder that maybe we should just put her out of her misery.  I've turned my thoughts halfheartedly into thinking about a replacement.

In another life, I might not even own a car.  But that's just impractical with kids and all.  Still, I try to drive as little as possible.  Magnum and I are usually on the same page regarding our vehicle preferences.   Functionality, reliability, and economy are priorities.

Every day, I'm out at my crosswalk, checking out the different cars going by.  It's like a parade, just for me, but nothing has perked me up. I sigh and think, welp, we can just get another Subaru, for lack of any other inspiration.

Last night, Magnum and I were taking an old folk's walk (pedometer love!) and started talking cars.  We narrowed our options down to makes we would consider, but that's as far as we got.  Until...

He started criticizing a certain model.  While criticizing this model, he brought up attributes I was unaware of, as in, "ALTHOUGH it was designed for outdoorsy people... DESPITE it's favorable reviews...  I ACKNOWLEDGE it's got nice cargo capacity..."

As I was listening, I'm thinking, "I want one of those!"

Bottom line for Magnum?  He doesn't like how it looks.

What?  Since when do LOOKS matter to  him??  (don't answer)

All curious, I started researching the ugly things this morning.

I looked into our finances and the trade-in value of the Subaru.  I found some used ugly things in our price range around town and beyond.  I checked with my friend Cuckoo (really, that's his name) who sells cars in the next town over.  Sadly, Cuckoo doesn't currently have a suitable ugly thing.  He could probably find us one, though.

I want one of those ugly things.  Or at least I want to go drive a few ugly things.  I phoned a local salesman whose got an ugly thing on his lot.  We'll probably visit him and the ugly thing tomorrow.

Has my Asperger man learned reverse psychology?

Nah... too bad.  He must really think they're ugly
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the saga continues

Back to Lotta Joy's original comment:  "I wish you would give more details of the differences you and your husband adapted to after getting married"

I haven't really answered, I've instead droned on in laying out the whole foundation to my answer(s) from how we met to me starting to notice stuff to the good side of Asperger wifery.  

It's not always such a pretty picture, oh no no.  My Aspie wife friend Maureen, in her book Loving the Tasmanian Devil, notes:

"Having a partner with Asperger Syndrome can feel like a roller-coaster ride for the neurotypical spouse -- riding high one moment on the spouse s charming quirkiness, only soon to spiral downward, exhausted and discouraged -- sometimes by the very same traits, which have suddenly taken new forms of expression."

Remember those things I found so adorable?  Let's revisit:

Magnum's really smart.  Yay.  Really smart people can sometimes be pompous asses.  Boo.  Magnum is not a pompous ass.  He has pompous ass "moments"?  Hardly ever with me, though.

Magnum is very honest.  This is typical of Aspergers.  Since a major trait is an inability to empathize or relate to other people and their experiences, they don't really see any logic in being dishonest.  HOWEVER, there are sometimes things that are better left unsaid.  'nuff said.

Magnum pays attention to every last thorough detail.  Sometimes it takes him forever to finish a task that others will do in half the time or less.  This drives some wives crazy.  I just choose not to watch and be happy that he's doing it and I'm not.

Magnum and I have lots of interests in common, share many of the same opinions and values.  We don't really argue over the typical marital issues of finances, extended family, or child raising.  Still, our personalities are quite a bit different.  He's an introvert, I'm more extroverted.  Before we knew he had Aspergers, I thought his "anxieties" were a combination of being introverted and coming from a somewhat (conditionally loving) dysfunctional family, and that he'd get over them with time.

I'd ask him about it, and he'd say he didn't know, just that it was "always there".   His way of dealing with it is to go into a sort of robotic mode where he just mirrors what he sees other people doing or saying - typical Asperger coping strategy.  To me, it comes across as phony and a bit hypocritical at times.  Additionally, I didn't see any reason for him to put on the "act".  I like him best when he's just being his quirky self.

That's not to say that it's always a struggle.  We've often joked about his cluelessness.  People with Aspergers don't read nonverbal clues well.  They often don't get sarcasm.  Many things have to be explicitly stated.  I just found out a couple of years ago or so, that something I said jokingly before we got married, made him think that I was dumping him.

Now I know, when I see that he's misunderstood me, I restate things.  I've actually told him, "I'm flirting with you now."

One day, it struck me.  I don't know what made the light go on, but I realized that his occasional  anxiousness when dealing with people, myself included, wasn't just an emotional issue.  I told him that I thought it was something "organic".  This was just a few years ago, after several years together and 3 kids.

Soon afterwards, we got the answer.  It came in a roundabout way through a boy named Alec...
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on a side note

"Wait... what-burgers?"
"Just keep walking..."

I recently heard of a divorce rate statistic of 80%  for Asperger marriages, but am unsure of the source.  Geesh, that's high!  Again, I don't know how accurate that is, but I want to blog a bit about Asperger Syndrome and how Magnum fits in that general scheme of things.







I'm no professional, but from what I've learned about Asperger's, I would say Magnum has medium-to-mild Aspergers as I've seen and heard of others who have more troubles than he does.

There are two types of Aspies.  There are those who are quiet and seem shy and introverted.  Then there are those who are loud and overly talkative who often say things that are socially inappropriate.  Magnum is certainly in the first group, and I don't think his "shyness" comes across as extreme.

There are those with Aspergers who struggle so much to "fit in", and they never really settle into a comfortable job or profession.  On the flip side, there are those who develop careers based on their circumscribed interests.  Magnum's personality and interests combine nicely for an engineer.

So although I noticed early on that he struggled a bit socially, Magnum's struggles don't overwhelm him as they do others with Asperger's.  He's also developed appropriate coping skills, and his differences don't immediately send people to point to the autism spectrum.

While I wouldn't recommend marrying an Aspie man to everyone, let me count the ways of the positives for Mag and me - all of which result from his having Asperger's

• Magnum is very intelligent.  It sometimes surprises me how much he knows about geography, world history, different structures of government, literature...  So much we joke about it sometimes (why would anyone need to know THAT?  Ever??).  Then of course there's the stuff he needs to know as an engineer.  The math, the physics.

• He's a conscientious, focused worker and good at what he does.  He's well liked by his managers and co-workers.  I've never worried about his "marketability" or his lack of work ethic should we decide to just pull up stakes and move to somewhere - something we've actually done.  Twice.

He's (brutally) honest.  His "lying" mainly consists of the coping I mentioned earlier.

• He's got a way with animals.  When we first started dating, we were in college and living in apartments with no pets.  The first time we visited his mom, I noticed the strong bond between Magnum and the family dog.  It actually surprised me, considering his struggles to relate to other people.  The pooches sense it too as I've seen dogs choose him from a group of people as the one to go to for a cuddle.  

• He's a bit of a perfectionist, going back to that conscientious worker thing.  When he sets his mind to do something, he wants it done right and pays attention to all of the details.  And I'm not just talking about paid employment here *wink*wink*nudge*nudge* (that's all I will say about THAT...).

And besides, who's to say that I'm so "normal"?

Add it all up and it looks pretty good.  At least on paper.  Eighty percent?  What for...?
... yeah about that...
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after day 1

Today's prompt over at NaBloPoMo is:

"When you are speaking with someone, do you prefer to look them in the eye or talk over the phone?"

And so I thought I'd use that as a sort of segue into my continuing Asperger wife sharing.  This prompt suggests that when two people are speaking, but not looking each other in the eye, they aren't in the same place.

One of the first things I noticed about Magnum is that he very rarely looked me in the eye when speaking to me.  I would guess that that is the thing most people first notice about him.  That, and how he speaks rather quietly and monotonely.   I chalked these up to shyness.  I'd always rather liked the quiet types, so this "shyness" was in no way a deal breaker.  After 22 years of marriage, he looks me in the eye a little more, but not a whole lot.

Magnum and I were both non-traditional students - not straight out of high school into a 4-year college program - when we met.  I had taken a couple of years off to work full-time to earn tuition money, Magnum served 4 years in the Army before going back to get his degree.

Yes, we had the same major - mechanical engineering, and we had plenty of other things in common too.  A common trait among Aspies is that they often obsess around certain interests.  For Magnum, one of those interests is politics (a common AS obsession).  Although, he is typically quiet and soft spoken, he can go on and ON expressing his political views.  Although he usually avoids conflict, woe be to whomever should oppose his political views.  I share his views if not the intensity.

We are also both "outdoorsy", enjoying hiking, camping, biking, self-sufficiency, etc.  So things were moving along quite swimmingly.  Although I was noticing some of his "oddities", there was nothing that made me want to turn tail and run.

Relationships I'd had prior to meeting Magnum had been more consuming.  Asperger traits include difficulty socializing and an unawareness of others' feelings.  As a result, people with AS  really need their alone time, and are not very romantic.  For me, that meant that Magnum was not "always up in my business" as previous boyfriends had been.  At the time I met him, I liked that.  I don't always like that (ooooh, forshadowing...), and it's that not-always-up-in-my-business that trashes many an Asperger/NT marriage.

I was also kinda sorta but not really seeing another guy at the same time I met Magnum.  Eventually, Magnum asked if he and I could be "monogamous" - using a rather formal speech pattern, typical of Aspergers.  I decided... okay.

Then came the inevitable meeting of his parents, divorced and both remarried.  I noticed a certain cordiality between his family.  They would greet each other with the, "Hi, how are you" "Good, how are you" types of greetings that usually pass between customers and bank tellers.  I don't do the empty-ritual thing, certainly not with members of my own family.  Later when I asked Magnum about this, he said he knew that his mother often didn't care to know the answers to her questions, but asked them out of routine, and he was fine with that.  Red flag, but I reasoned that his "oddities" were a result of his weird family.

We flew to California to meet his dad.  There was notable tension the whole time.  Additonally, there was clearly articulated tension between Magnum and his stepmother.  By then, I was sure the oddness stemmed from his upbringing and that he'd be fine with me showing him how the other half lived.

Still, we had a good time on our California trip.  I sent my parents, who had yet to meet Magnum, this photo of  "me and the boyfriend".  Poor Mom.








His family was a bit strange, he didn't look me in the eye much, he was a bit too serious a times.  Yet we were crazy compatible, looking forward to graduating. It was all good...

day 1

Last week, I mentioned how one of Chaco's dorm roommates has Asperger's and also reminded the blog that husband Magnum has Asperger's.

There are a lot of blogs out there.  There are parenting blogs, art blogs, running blogs, fish keeping blogs, knitting blogs, snake keeping blogs, bicycling blogs, teaching blogs,  Asperger-wife blogs... Mine is none of these, but all of these.

Except for knitting.  Did you see it?  I don't knit.

Lotta Joy commented on that recent Asperger post, "I wish you would give more details of the differences you and your husband adapted to after getting married."

 Okay!  I haven't been Asperger-wife blog for a while.

But firstly, let's put on the "trousers of time" (a term Rock Chef used today that I found cute, but it was better when he said it), and go back to the fateful day when I met my Asperger-wife-blog material.

It was January of 1988.  The first class of the first day of the winter semester at the university Magnum and I attended.  I walked into the classroom and sat in a suitable location.  The professor had yet to arrive so I did what seemed the natural thing to do.  I started talking to the person next to me.

I don't remember what I said, just something chitty chatty about classes starting up again.  But this guy I said it to seemed somewhat startled.  Like, why was I talking to him?  Yet, at the same time, he seemed pleased that I was.

Magnum, about the time of
his chit chat victimization

He was wholly focused on my every word, my every chitty chatty, just-killing-time word.  Then he said something in response like, "yeah".  Out of the blue, he then added, "My name is Magnum", which at the time took me a bit by surprise.







Think about it.  How many chitty chatty conversations have you had with people you didn't really know?  In a dentist's waiting area?  Standing in line somewhere?  Sitting and waiting for a class to start?  For me, it's usually been deeper into the conversation before names are swapped, if at all.

"Hmm.  I'm Abby.  Nicetameetcha", I replied.

And we were off.
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out with the old, in with the not-so-new

Over the weekend, as Chaco piled goods that I would be paying for into our shopping cart, he chattered incessantly about his college experiences so far.  Since he'd only been there a few days, and real classes hadn't even started yet, these experiences consisted mostly of getting to know his orientation group and his dorm roommates.

One roommate is his good friend Andrew.  He and Andrew arranged it so they would share a dorm, and left it to the roommate gods to choose the two others that would make up their suite.  I mentioned here that, on moving day, I met one of them.  I described him as "pleasingly nerdy".

As Chaco chattered, one piece of information he fed me was, "Matt has Asperger's".

Oh, really.

Recall that our very own Magnum has Asperger's.  Now, when we met, I'd only ever heard of hamburgers.  Same for him, pretty much.

He was notably shy, quiet, didn't make a whole lot of eye contact.  To be honest, at one point when I realized he liked me liked me, I figured it would never go beyond friendship because he would never get the nerve to ask  me out.

Surprise.

Anyway, over 24 years later, here we are.  I won't say that being married to an Asperger man is easy, but at the same time, I don't think Magnum's Asperger's fully defines him.

I was kind of glad when Chaco told me about roommate Matt.  The "quirkiness" I'd picked up on during our brief meeting made sense.  Apparently, he just flat out stated that he had Asperger's and wanted them to know in case they had any questions.

"You know Dad has Asperger's", I reminded Chaco.

"Yeah", he said, "it's like autism, but not"

"It's like 'Autism-lite", I replied.

"Matt's a little socially awkward, but a nice guy", Chaco summed up.  "Andrew notices more than I do, but he'll get used to it".

I'm glad the roommate gods put Matt in with Chaco and Andrew.
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a smart move

Yesterday I did this sketch of Magnum and then put it on my deviantArt page.  Another deviant then commented:  "Nice, did he sit for you, or is this from a picture?"

I had to laugh a little at that.  I could not imagine Magnum sitting with this contemplative gaze just so I could draw it.  I replied back:  "Thanks, it's from a photo.  He's not much of a 'poser'!"

In fact, the photo I used as a reference was a spontaneous "unposed" photo.  That's what I like about it.  I thought it captured more of his true self rather than a posed version.

Magnum and I met in college.  Actually met in the classroom - not at a bar or frat party.  One of the things I liked about him was that he was most certainly NOT a "poser".  There are up sides to Asperger's and that is definitely one of them for me. 

And now here we are, a good 23 years later.  It's not always perfect, but what is? I will admit that there are days when I don't have the energy.  There have been moments where I've said to him, "Don't.  I just don't feel like dealing with the Asperger's right now".  But I will add, that on the rare occassions when those moments have occurred, it was almost always during a certain week of the month ifyaknowwhatimsayin'. 

So yeah, I came across that photo, and to me, that was the Magnum I decided to talk to that day in class.  A nice, but shy guy who would probably like it if a girl struck up a conversation with him.  Did he pose for me?

Absolutely not.

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once upon a time...

The first notable thing about her is her eyes.  Other than that, she seems like a typical 10-year-old girl for the most part.  But not her eyes. 

She doesn't look you in the eye when she speaks to you.  She doesn't look anyone in the eyes.  The words come out of her mouth, and the words are clear, the vocabulary well-developed.  Her eyes are directed at the ground.

Since Magnum has Asperger's, I think I'm pretty good at recognizing the signs of it.  Lack of eye contact is a big one, and typical.  This girl has other traits and sensitivities that I'd spotted too, so when I was copied in on a list of  kids with "health notes to be aware of" from the school nurse, I wasn't surprised to see this girl on the list with "autism" next to her name.

For the most part, she's a happy and typical 5th grader who goes through my crosswalk on a regular basis.  She engages in conversations, she has friends and enjoys extracurricular activities.  In my non-professional observance, she is "high functioning" autistic, or Aspergerian. 

Several weeks ago, she breathlessly told me that she'd gotten the part of Gretel in the school's production of "Hansel and Gretel".  Wow, a headliner!   I knew she liked to dance, so the fact that she'd tried out for the play was no surprise, but the part of Gretel?  Even though her eyes looked at the ground the whole time she told me this news, she was clearly excited, and I was excited for her.

This morning, "Gretel" and her friend Belle approached the crosswalk together.  Belle asked me, "Did you go to the play on Friday?"  No, I hadn't, and then Belle said, "You should hear her sing!", indicating Gretel.  "She has the voice of an Angel!"  Belle then leaned over and whispered something in Gretel's ear, and at that, Gretel began to sing.

It was absolutely, unequivocally, categorically, without question, fully and altogether BEAUTIFUL.

The pitch was perfect, the intonation was deep, the melody was haunting.  I was flabbergasted. 

I looked to Belle whose expectant eyes were already watching mine - Belle is clearly not autistic.  She and I spoke to each other, using just our eyes, as Gretel continued to sing.  Belle's eyes said, "See?!  What'd I tell you?!", and my eyes said, "Are you  *&%#-ing  kidding me?!?!"  (It's okay to swear to children as long as you're doing it with just  your eyes).

Gretel sang just a couple of bars of a song I didn't recognize, right there at the school crossing of Crazy-Driver Boulevard.  After she finished, I went to say something, but my voice caught in my throat, as I was near to crying.

Near to crying because (1) it was just so beautiful and (2) I'd missed the play.

This month's NaBloPoMo theme is "Gift".  Gretel has an unmistakable gift.  And her sharing it with me this morning is one of the best gifts I've ever received.
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assignment

Okay, anybody else have a whiteboard or something similar on their fridge?  As I recall, we ended up with one on our fridge because somebody just HAD to have one for his locker at school, but soon found out it just got in the way, so it ended up on our fridge.

I have to admit that it does come in handy sometimes.  Recall last Thanksgiving when Chaco left me this note.  Since then, many many drawings have seemingly magically appeared on the previously orphaned whiteboard.  Often, we aren't sure of who the artist is, as the drawings are mostly done on the sneak. 

What has somehow evolved is, about every month or so, someone will start a new picture thread, and all subsequent pictures are to rhyme that starter depiction.  So technically (as if we actually have rules) the drawings aren't necessarily "things to do", but the thing on there now looks like a good directive - safety considerations aside.  The thread started with a ghost, and this is what is now on the whiteboard:

I know that some people refer to themselves as list makers.  Others, not so much.  Magnum, in proud Asperger fashion, is a king of list making.  As part of the employee work/health incentives program, I was tasked to make a couple of lists.  One, I'm supposed to list ways to reduce stress in my life, another, list ways I can eat healthier.  The fun thing is, if I do it, I'll actually get paid money.  Yes, I can be a paid journalist.  And I actually even doubt that anyone will read it, but turns out, it doesn't matter! 

So yeah, I'll do it.  It's on my list of things-to-do, along with the above drawing, a note that Chaco needs a haircut and the subaru needs an oil change.

What's on your list of things-to-do?  Do you take time to schedule the fun things too?  Do you even have a list? 
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booked

I was contemplating my faceb**k friend list.  I'd say it breaks down to three main categories:  People I Grew Up With, People I've Worked or Gone to School With, and People I've Met Through Blogging.

Of that last group, I count some close friends, and I've never even met them personally!  Allow me to feature one here today.

It's been a while since I've blogged anything about the Asperger Syndrome world, but yes, we still happily live there.

A few years ago, probably not long after Magnum was diagnosed (i.e. we got a name for his weirdness), I met a fellow Asperger wife and blogger, Maureen.  And look at her now!  She's all growed up and recently published a book!

  Loving the Tasmanian Devil - Reflections on Marriage and Asperger Syndrome
  ... which I recently bought and have begun reading.

A few years ago, as I surfed around, I found plenty of resources.  Much of it was meant for parents of Asperger kids.  There were a few dry and clinical sites for spouses and adults.  And there were a few spousal voices that were  just  ongoing b*tch sessions (yes, typically it's the wife who is the non-Asperger spouse), often by ex-wives or wannabe ex-wives. 

This was not helpful to me.

Then one day, I don't remember how exactly, Maureen and I cyber-bumped into each other.  It was probably at some time when she or I was b*tching about/laughing at/ enjoying our respective Asperger husbands online and we noticed a kinship.

To my delight, she wasn't wallowing in self-pity like others' blogs I'd read.  She was soldiering on, staying with her Asperger husband,  raising her three boys (Kinship?  Remember?) , living on a dairy farm, and blogging with an intelligence mixed with a good good dose of humor sense. 

It was like a breath of fresh air after a traffic jam.

And now I'm reading her book.  It's sitting right her next to me as I type.  My name is even mentioned, ever so briefly, but to me it makes me feel special. 

She dedicates the book to her husband, who as he reminds her, is responsible for her writing the book in the first place. 

So I can thank Magnum who, in his weirdness, introduced me to Maureen.
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a visit

I came home from class on Sunday afternoon to find my mother-in-law in the backyard with Meego. Apparently, she and her husband were here for a visit. The rest of the brood was out procuring some lunch for all of us.

Now, about my mother-in-law. Yes, she is Magnum's mom. She's also a bit loco en la cabeza.

A few years ago, when we confirmed that Magnum has Asperger's, he and I unprofessionally concluded that his mom has it too. It's interesting to watch.

I notice, for instance, that Mag and his mom share most of the core symptoms, but after that, they are at opposite ends of the psychological bell curve in most ways. I have read that Asperger's manifests different symptoms in men versus women, and this plays out with Magnum and the MIL.

I don't want to go into detail, but suffice to say that, we don't "socialize" with them a whole lot when they do visit. They are certainly welcome to come out and see the grandkids, etc., but we typically limit our activites to things that don't require us going out in public much - activities and places where there might be.. uhm.. other people.

This is not to say that I am anti-autistic -people. Heck no! But, we suspect that she's actually got more than just the Asperger's going on in there...

In the end, it was a nice enough visit. Nothing majorly inappropriate occurred, and if it had, we would have been the only witnesses. I do find it interesting to watch - from a purely psychologically geeky perspective.

I suppose that's better than "Crap, this is NUTS! I'm going home to Mother."
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what not to wear

A local radio station asks trivia questions on weekday afternoons. Listeners who call in with correct answers to the questions win things like movie tickets or passes to local funcenters and whatnot.

The questions usually involve something that a percentage of some population does, like "7 percent of people have done this before marriage!" Vague stuff like that.

So the other evening, I was driving home when the trivia was, "73 percent of women say they will not date a man who wears this!"

Calls were coming in with answers like, "suspenders", "speedos", "socks with sandals", etc. Eventually, someone called in with the correct answer and scored some minor league baseball tickets or something.

I, in turn, was feeling quite triumphant myself. I got home and asked the fashion challenged Magnum if he'd heard the radio trivia. He hadn't, so I repeated it for him. He began guessing, "suspenders?", "speedos?", "socks and sandals?". I was rather proud of him for at least knowing that much...

But no, none of those were the answer.

"Pleated pants!", I revealed.

See, just recently we had a conversation about just this thing. It was my assertion that men (women too, for that matter) should NOT wear pleats. He was puzzled. He owned some pleated pants. Pleated pants that I had probably purchased. A loooooooong time ago!

Back then it was fine. Things change.

One thing about people with Asperger's is that they don't notice when things change. They often have to be told. Once things are defined for them, the things stay neatly defined that way forever. Hence, the fashion disasters that can ensue.

So, I'd told him about the pleats, but it was the radio trivia that got him to discard the pleats. Seventy-three percent of women is powerful.

Now... about that 20-year-old rugby shirt...
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does it make a sound?

I remember Tree Man.

He showed up at my front door one afternoon a couple of summers ago. We had a dying tree in the yard, and I'd called him, among others, to come and give me an estimate for its removal.

He had a sort of hippyish look to him. Longish fuzzy hair in a ponytail, full beard, John Lennon glasses. He had a sort of hippyish personality too. Very mellow and friendly. I soon learned that he and his tree service business were from the local hippie place just outside the city.

So I liked him, this hippie Tree Man, and I hired him to remove the tree. It almost seemed incongruent when he showed up a few days later, in his usual granola aura, driving a big diesel pickup pulling a trailer of power equipment.

And he made impressive short work of that tree. Several of the neighbor kids, in addition to our own kids, showed up to watch. All took delight in shouting "TIMBER!!" when the magic moment happened.

"Those all yer kids?", he asked in his hippie way.

"Nope, just three of 'em", I replied in a, hopefully, not too mother-from-suburbia way.

"Mmmm.... I've got 5 kids...", he countered in a rather conversation-while-sharing-marijuana way.

Good ol' Tree Man.

This summer, we discovered that another tree in the yard was needing last rites. It's a smaller tree than the last, so Chaco, Wolfgang, and I took it upon ourselves to put it out of its misery.

We hacked and sawed and pushed and pulled and hacked some more and sawed some more and pushed.... well, y'know. All that work reminded me of the ease with which Tree Man had removed the previous tree. But then, he did have all that equipment, and here we were, me and my two scrawny teenagers.

But we got it. It fell precisely where we'd hoped it would, and then we set about making little pieces of wood out of it.

That was a week ago today.

This morning, Magnum asked, "So'd you cut that tree down yesterday?" (We hadn't told him - remember that little Asperger's game we like to play?).

"Uhm, actually, it was last week", I revealed.

SO it only took him one week to notice. Never mind the fact that he had worked in the yard over the weekend. Never mind that it's a freakin' TREE! that's no longer THERE. One week only. That's pretty good, I'd say.

If a tree falls in the yard... ?
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sometimes it's funny

I've mentioned here before that the husband, Magnum, has Asperger's Syndrome. Remember? Of course you do. If not, and you're thinking, "what the heck are ass burgers?", Asperger's is kinda like Autism. It's like Autism's up-the-street neighbor.

It first dawned on me a few years ago when I was working as a temporary special ed. resource teacher at the local elementary school. We were discussing a particular student, and my boss was rather upset because some counselor was trying to "treat" the student for Asperger's when none of us, who worked with him daily, felt that he had it. He had issues, oh yes he did, but he didn't have Asperger's.

And it think I already had an inkling about Magnum before this, but the discussion of this student only solidified my non-professional diagnosis. All the while, I was thinking, "No, Alex (that's his name) doesn't have Asperger's because he doesn't do the Asperger stuff that Magnum does".

So, long story short, I told Magnum of my suspicions. He found an Asperger specialist type person in town, and he passed her tests with flying colors. If I remember correctly, "normal" (also known as "NT" for "Neuro Typical") people get an average scaled score of 4 in the battery of tests. The average Asperger person scores a 14. Magnum, in his typical overachieving fashion, outdid them and scored a 17.

And lemme tellya, it's not for the weak. As I've told Magnum, "a lesser woman woulda left by now!". He knows I'm having fun with him... and he also knows it's true.

He's learned to laugh at himself. Yes, Asperger's can be fun. For instance, around here, whenever we change something about the house, we play the game of don't-tell-Dad-and-see-how-long-it-takes-him-to-notice. All in fun of course.

I finally told him about a particular lampshade after two years had passed.

So, I must say, while "a lesser woman" wouldn't put up with the whole NT-married-to-an-AS scenario (and many just don't), in many ways I'm glad to be here. We're on the brink of our 19th anniversary, and looking back, I was a lesser woman before. This challenge has, I think, made me better than I was.

I could cry, but I choose to laugh. Because sometimes it's funny.
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