344: Proof I am Alien… and Other Theories


Alien Rod
In the x-ray image of me, there is a rod the aliens inserted; it starts in my brain and jets down to my mouth (see front tooth area for proof); it is my communication device where I glimpse elements of the future and am able to deem what avenues to take to protect myself and society. I receive messages at three in the morning in the form of complex and unearthly prose, telepathically received with beautiful images and divine sensation of wholeness and completion. The aliens look like angels and drive spaceships resembling the sun and/or the clouds. They are not scary. The rod doesn’t hurt, but makes for a cool zombie-like image. By examining this photo, note the size of my eye sockets and ears. I am alien for certain. I even have the alien-shape-face-thing going on. And yes, this is really me!

Audacious Spirit
Before I was shot down to earth by the spiritual beings, whom guard the hall of records in another realm, I met before a board of angel guides; they had agreed to help me in this life. I jumped up and down and was so excited about my list of goals I wanted to accomplish here on earth. Being headstrong and determined, I did not heed the warnings of the master experts, the ones with a thousand more lifetimes under their belts than me. I am one of those ambitious youngsters who thinks she is all that—the type the elders laugh at so loud the skies of heaven thunder. Of course, I was clueless to my hubris and audacity, and thought myself brilliant. I recited a long list. Essentially I wanted to learn all the life lessons possible in 88 years. At half-life I would metamorphosis and all my prophetic and empathic senses would kick in. I wanted to see in all ways: to know through all senses, e.g., feeling, experiencing, hearing, smelling, and seeing. I originally insisted on the sense of taste too, to know things through taste, but the angels demanded I throw at least one thing out. I wanted to experience extreme agony, displacement, heartache, rejection, abandonment, physical pain, and on and on. Just bring it on, was my attitude. I had no clue how long earth lives were, as I had never been a human before. I was a dolphin. Now I am stuck down here with this master plan, and I can’t change it. I dream of water all the time, and get uncanny cravings for fish. The good news is half of my life is over.

Dropped Down

I come from a planet where chocolate is the staple nutrient for life forms and no one eats animals or animal products. Actually no one eats anything beyond air, energy, and chocolate. There are twice as many trees. And the trees talk and sing. They are the only ones that talk. The rest of us speak telepathically, so there is no need to shift through the multiple variables of words to express the multiple variables of thought. Thought just arises in images and picture form and through emotion. Beings are conscious about their intentions; and there is little fear, as nothing is hidden. Nothing can be hidden. Faces change based on experience and emotion, and one’s energy. There is nothing that is stagnant. We see the energy of the world spinning, and multiple worlds within everything. Beings have soulmates, intense soul connections, kinship, and a knowing of peace and serenity. I was dropped down here on earth by accident. And it sucks.

The Woman’s Wisdom
I was a sage in my past life, something akin to a Buddha, but not quite. I was considered enlightened by all who encountered me and all whom heard my name; but then, this scrawny two-faced hermit lady, who lived in the deep caves of some forgotten unmentionable place, she came to me, and she cursed me with her wisdom.
She said: “You are a man in form in this lifetime. You are not truly enlightened in the complete sense, unless you come back to this realm as a woman, and as a woman in form you live through the following: the extreme emotional and physical confusion of hormonal cycling (for peak experience, live in the years beyond 2000, where the environmental toxins that mimic female hormones are abundant; PMS is a blast), the pain of giving birth, (and most of the complications that can arise while pregnant, including the agony of inducement), the challenges of marrying and living with a man, (as a woman you will see the male gender in an entirely new light), raising children, (and lets add children who never nap, don’t sleep through the night, have chronic health conditions in early child years, fight for the first ten years… non-stop), the experience of Aspergers, (your son and you will have this, but you will not recognize it in yourself until half of your life is over; that’s okay because with this condition you’ll have the capacity to fixate and obsess so much that you’ll figure yourself out in no time), the pressures society places on women to look beautiful, (you can rock that whole half-front tooth that turns dead thing), the cattiness of women turning against you and stabbing you in the back, the pain as a result of predators seeking you out, a chronic pain condition that has no explanation and no cure, and that people originally target as an imagined female condition. Hmmmm. (She smiled her toothless smile and raised a boney crocked finger.) And let’s add that whole mother-in-law dynamic bit. Of course female or not, you can still be endowed with all the gifts from this world: prophecy, precognition, seeing, sensing, knowing, feeling, empathy, revelations, energetic healing, etc. You can take all you need with you that you’ve gained from this life of a man, but I am telling you now, it shall not be enough! Do all this and come back to me at the end of the lifetime, and then you will be ready to teach me.” I concurred and naively agreed. After my nod, she quickly inserted, “And, just for fun, let’s give you voluptuous curves which you are entirely uncomfortable with, and the mind of a prudish, but lustful nun!” And with that, I was born.

Photo on 3-21-13 at 9.41 AM #2

276: Taking the “Ladies” Out

I took the ladies out today. Just the three of us. Me and my boobs.

Can you see my reflection? 🙂

Yep. Squishing-under-the-glass-time. Also know as Mammogram. A word which makes me think of screaming for my mamma and grandma, all in one heated breath! Yelp.

I like to smile thinking of a very special machine built for men, where they can go and get their balls squished under glass and be man-handled.  Not that I don’t love and appreciate men. I only say this as I believe this idea might provide equal ground and assist bridging the barriers between the male and female gender. Plus, the image is really fun to picture in my mind.

For some reason I think this would be a good theme song for men when they go for their ball exam:

Don’t ask me to analyze. It’s the beat, I suppose. No pun intended.

The old me, unlike the new and vastly transitioned me, would FREAK out about lab tests of any type. The old me put off this particular boob-squishiness for a bit, all out of fear. It’s not so much the test itself. It doesn’t hurt at all; it’s quite fast; and the technician had warm hands.

I freak about the time in between: the waiting period. That’s what I freak out about in life in general, that unknown zone. I’m not good with unknowns. Or at least I used to be no good. Now I’m pretty dang functional, borderlining on fabulous.

Today I focused on the positive. I didn’t allow any thoughts inside that weren’t beneficial. I imagined that my boobs, my lady friends, we were going to a party. I listened to Dancing Queen by Abba all the way to the appointment. Oh, what the heck. Here is the song again.

I sang at the top of my lungs. And I didn’t care who was watching. I hoped I made them smile. Or think: What is that girl so happy about?

If they’d asked, I would have said, I’m putting my ladies on stage, out in the spotlight. I’m bringing them out to PARTY.

That was and is my attitude. I make it so. I made this a positive experience.

To keep my spirits lifted and to protect my bubble of love from outsiders who might unknowningly spiritually intrude upon my awesome zone of energetic space, I used all sorts of protective devices. I have my lovely nana’s rosary in one pocket, and in the other pocket a stone a special friend found for me on the beach. I sprayed myself with a protection spray made of various natural herbs. I even dabbed on my Tibetan Holy water, blessed by Buddhist monks. I put a drop of olive and garlic tincture on my tongue—energy vampires begone!!! I made my hair look lovely, and lips inviting. We were going out on the town, half-naked, after all.

I wore purple to represent my third-eye chakra. I grounded myself and got super comfy in my big tan poncho. And I donned my fabulous amber healing necklace. At the last minute I grabbed my lady’s out purse, the one with the glittery sequence.

I listened to my inner voice all morning. And she guided me. First suggestion: Limit the caffeine. So I ordered a decaf peppermint mocha coffee and water for hydration. I forgot my water, but two people, and older man and an employee, came running outside after me to give me my water. I felt special.


I drove to my destination, taking an exit I don’t usually take, and trusting my intuition,  found a new short cut. I arrived super early, and had ample time to focus on the message on my bumper sticker


And I rubbed the thick moss off a stoic tree and talked to him about his beauty. And then this stud muffin tree beckoned me over. I couldn’t resist him. Big HUG!

I took lots of photos, but my phone wouldn’t work. That’s okay. I did manage to capture a little detail I added to my entrance paperwork. A little extra love, never hurts.


You are missing out on the photo of me in my gown and a great shot of the boob-crusher machine.

I talked the technicians ears off. Go figure? She had to remind me to keep my mouth still while she was clicking the device to capture the rare images of my glorious ladies. I asked her if it hurt woman with small boobs more. She kind of grinned, and said, “No, it’s just different.” I wondered for a bit, what that meant. Then wondered if she thought that I thought I had big boobs and was bragging. I almost explained, but was distracted by the way my flesh appeared all flattened and spread. I remarked about the overall comfort of the machine and the improvement in technology. And of course, I verified twice when my results would be available.

I did mention about my Aspergers and my son’s Aspergers. It’s kind of what I do.

Turns out someone she works with has a son that just got diagnosed with Aspergers. I offered out my phone number to give to her friend as a gesture of support–cause that’s kind of what I do, too.

But no! WAIT…..

My technician got a little bit happy, and instead of taking my number, she asked me to return to the dressing area and wait there. She specified, “Wait here. Get dressed, and I’ll be back.” I thought it was funny that she told me to get dressed. I wasn’t about to meet a stranger half-naked.

Minutes later, I hear two ladies outside my curtain whispering: “Do you think she is dressed, yet?” And I’m thinking, behind my curtain: This is the oddest way I’ve ever entered a room before to meet someone for the first time.

I open the curtain, swishhhh, all dressed, and feeling like I’m the wizard in the Wizard of Oz, popping out with my hand extended. We hit it off, the kind lady technician and me; and before we are too deep in conversation, another lady nearby pops out of her curtain, still in her gown, not yet finished dressing. She says: “Me. Me, too. Give me your number and name. My son has Aspergers.”

So there we are laughing and talking in the middle of the mammogram dressing room, so much so that we had to hush our giggles. I even took their photo, with the one still in her gown! It was for my blog, I said. My Aspergers itself pretty much giving me the liberty to do and say anything, so I said teasingly to myself.

I left just so very happy and pleased.

My only intention entering that radiology department today was to make connections, to brighten someone’s day, and to make a difference. That’s what me and my ladies set out to do. All dolled up and out on the town, we just wanted to touch someone with our love.


^the song my grandpa’s spirit sang for two days to the seer, until he met with me, and figured out the message was for me. See Yesterday’s post if you are confused. Or take a nap. Or just nod like you understand, like I frequently do when others are talking and I haven’t got a clue.^

Now I’m going to listen to this song over and over. Me and my ladies, we feel like a good cry:

….. To make you feel my love. Hopeless romantic at heart.

270: Warning: Lizard Tongue

Working Titles:

I Adore Myself so Much I Could Hug and Kiss ME All Over

Aspie: Why I am So Awesome?

Take a Chance on Me…PLEASE!!!


Why I Adore ME:

1)      My super-sized brain that enables me to be in anytime and anyplace with the blink of my pretty eye.

2)      The capacity I have to entertain myself in thought over the most seemingly simplistic ideas, such as how well do I actually know the back of my hand, and am I the only one that isn’t familiar with the back of their hand, and am I more familiar with the lens of my eyeball from which I see, even though I can’t see my eyeball when I’m looking out in the world, and is my eyeball invisible? How can I see straight through my eyeball without seeing any of it at all?

3)      My intense humor that makes my internal organs giggle, while producing this devious, I-am-so-radical-and-fantastic grin across my blushing face.

4)      My ability to laugh at myself, over and over and over again, and my ability to point out my bazar weirdness so my friend, or neighbor, or complete stranger can laugh about me, too. Even though I know secretly they are laughing at themselves, because I am a reflection of them. And if I point that out, I like to watch their faces turn sheet white.

5)      My huge empathy for everyone and everything. My urge to get out of my van and find out why the man crossing the road is homeless and to fix him all up, like in the movies. And to turn him into a freakishly charming prince, and ride off in his shopping cart into the distant sunset, all in a matter of moments, inside my brain, while stopped at the downtown stoplight.

6)      My urge to save the world with my ever-building (secret hidden) super powers.

7)      My butt. It’s just plain cute.

8)      My need to talk to safe-looking strangers, and to compliment them, so I can see them smile and their eyes light up. The expressions I magically produce on others’ faces when my compliment is unexpected and downright odd. “Oh your house is so big and lavish and fantastic. Is this your dream house? Is this your dream come true? I wish I had a house like this. It’s so perfect. Did it cost a lot of money?” pause…  “Oh, did I forget to introduce myself.”

9)      My ability to have simultaneous sensations. While this isn’t the best: sticky, bitter taste in mouth, jagged bottom tooth puncturing tongue, hard chair penetrating butt, shoulders stinging from typing, throat a bit scratchy, ears hurting from hum of fridge, airplane flying overhead, clock ticking….This is fantastic: moss the brightest magical green on trees, leaves dancing and spinning in front of me as they float off the branches, spider web glistening and singing in beauty, dog smiling at me, feet crunching the leaves, rain tickling tongue, birds singing in unison: a mystical choir, flapping of wings, insects leaping, squirrels pitter-pattering and playing hide-and-seek, wind lapping hair, warmth of wool hat, heaviness of thick winter coat, comfort of wool socks, swishing of pants, the sound of my own song, the sigh, the deep breath, the inhale of fresh crisp forest air, my pulse, my heart, my stomach, my skin, my being, my total beauty connected with the world.

10)   My ability to be remarkably insecure and overly confident at the exact same instant. Especially concerning my wit, charm, intelligence, and hair.

11)   My need for approval while constantly denying the need for approval, as you simply don’t exist outside of my limited perception and this created illusion.

12)   My bouncy spirit. No matter how low or how high, I’m always bouncing inside with the thought of getting to know you and be your friend, and learn everything about you, once you have read my blog and can recite my entire life story, so you can relate everything about you back to me, and thusly keep me the center of attention, so I know I exist somewhere inside the illusion you’ve created, because the thought of being an invisible empty space, as is clearly feasible when considering the vast universe between my spinning molecules, puts me into a state of hyper-awareness of the need to validate my existence.

13)   The fact that I’m uncommon and could never ever be common and ordinary, as hard as I tried, except for the fact that Nerd and Geek are coming into the mainstream fashion; so I might feasibly become the norm, my non-ordinariness becoming ordinary; that leads me to believe I need to create another part of me so I can maintain my uniqueness before society tries to suck it out of me. Perhaps I will sprout wings or let my antennae grow…or reveal my secret lizard tongue!

14)   My want to use made up words that make sense to me, and the knowledge that every word has been invented by someone, so that no words are real anyhows.

15)   My ability to see patterns everywhere, to solve complex riddles while I’m sleeping, and to wake in the middle of the night with an entire script in my head that I know without a doubt I have to share with the world or I will have not fulfilled my mission on earth!

16)   The ability to be entirely ME, and to see that ME is constantly in transition, that ME is subjective.

17)   The way coffee turns me into an unstoppable engine of achievement (inside my head.)

18)    The way I can open the number of my chocolate advent calendar in December, eat the chocolate, feel the smooth tingle go down my throat and chill of pleasure up my spine, sigh deeply, and feel like I’ve actually accomplished something for the day.

19)   How I can predict and time my bodily functions and hormones. “Bitch today; check in tomorrow.”

20)   Just the grandness of knowing there are other people who get me, and the giddiness I am able to feel in knowing that we are all so fricken insane that it brings saneness back into the ball field, all redressed in the ultimate coolness of different.

^^^ The song I danced to in the sauna over and over today, while I was staring at my goldfish, and thinking I’m on the other side of glass just like them; I wonder if they think I am a fish. Maybe I am a fish. Then I clucked like a chicken for absolutely no reason at all.

I have not had the chance to ask my husband if this is socially acceptable or not. So I will take a chance and make a disclaimer: My gigantic over-sized lizard tongue is not meant to be sexual in any way.


Day 164: Undeep Road Thoughts

What I thought about while I drove eleven hours (700 miles) to California.

  1. “God gives us dope! God gives us dope! God gives us dope!” (Remembering back to when my young boys screamed this through the house, after they misheard the song lyrics: “God gives us hope.” I never had the heart to correct them.)
  2. Oh, I can pinch much less fat around my waist now.
  3. I wonder if I should use the all-wheel drive option for hills. Oh, what the heck. Let’s see what happens.
  4. Blue sky! I see blue sky! I wonder how tan I’ll get?
  5. “You know what?  Bird shit could easily be considered abstract art. Just look at it. (points to sidewalk) Even a good artist would have a hard time duplicating that.” ~ My middle son’s comment a few weeks ago
  6. The time when I was twelve, the seventh grade fieldtrip was to Ashland, Oregon, a seven hour school bus ride. On arrival I stepped on a nail and had to go the emergency room for a tetanus shot. On departure I threw up all over the backseat.
  7. The time I was a teacher and went to science camp with my fifth grade class and ended up in the emergency room for severe breakout of poison oak.
  8.  I’ve been in an ambulance at least six times.
  9. The time when I was a student at middle school, and in science class a boa constrictor snake wrapped itself around my waist, went through my belt hoops, and got stuck. I had to give the boa constrictor’s owner my pants to take home. Why does weird stuff always happen to me?
  10. There are a whole lot of songs about love and heartbreak on the radio, that pretty much cover every possible scenario, and that I’ve just about experienced every single scenario.
  11. My muse. My darling muse. The enigma who makes me read, write, and digest erotica.
  12. My youngest son is much like a wild hamster in the way he nests and clutters up the backseat of the van. Is there such a thing as wild hamsters?
  13.  I never ever see tailgaters in Washington, but see them all over California.
  14. Who thought it was a good idea to close California state parks? Who thought it was a good idea to elect the Terminator as a governor?
  15. Country singers can make anything sound sad and sexy.
  16. It was so kind of the restaurant waitress to subtract the price of the vegetarian omelet from my bill after I politely explained that they might want to be careful not to accidentally have chunks of ground beef in the veggie omelet.
  17. How wonderful that you have to let someone pump your gas in Oregon. It’s the law.
  18. How fortunate that out of all the gas stations in the upper portion of California that I happened to pick the only free full-service gas station. And that the man with the one arm and missing teeth who pumped my gas had the most beautiful energy and spirit. And that I could feasibly marry a man with one arm and missing teeth. And that looks do not matter to me nearly as much as the energy I share with a person. And that I need to stop worrying about my looks, because I radiate love and positive energy. And I am beautiful just like the man with one arm and missing teeth.
  19. How great that so many people have the capacity to travel the manmade road, through manmade passage ways, passages that were exploded with dynamite.
  20. Trucks are sexy. I would make a lousy truck driver.
  21.  I think way too much about way too much, and could probably survive with my sanity intact in solitary confinement because of my vivid imagination and inquisitive thought processes.
  22. For some reason the phrases “pump my gas” and “big rig” sound erotic.
  23. I’m so happy. I wonder if I drank too much iced-tea.
  24. I’m having a really good hair day.

Day 140: Closer to Sexy

Okay. New followers will likely think I’m a bit odd, but that’s okay. They haven’t read A Body of True Confessions, My Aching Loins, or Prude to Sexy, Yet. So they are likely thinking all types of thoughts. Truth is, I’ve really broken out of my shell.

Photos removed since original post. See links above for more information. 🙂

I don’t even recognize me!  I’m wearing my after glow from having kayaked yesterday for the first time, my Maui tan from May, and the confidence I had when I was a kid. Yay, me!

Prude to Sexy Check Off List:

Check…..Guitar purchased

Check…..First Kayak experience (1.5 hours)

Check….Kayak paddle purchased

Check….Closer and closer to buying a bikini


Oh, and I got a really cute pedicure today. See? This was not an easy shot to take. Trust me!

Toes on Camera

Thanks for following the journey!  

Day 128: Prude to Sexy

Now, I hope you do all know that I have Aspergers. With Aspergers sometimes comes this naive spirit (in a wonderful way) and sometimes (in my case: often times) a tendency to not understand sexual connotations. Well, luckily I ran this post by someone (my husband). He kindly pointed out that having the topic, learning to self-massage, as one of my It List’s items might be a little risqué. I didn’t understand why learning to massage my hands and feet with lotion would be inappropriate.

When I was still a youngster, in my early twenties, my mother took me to see her psychic. I was told that I would first have two children, much like twins, and everyone would think they were twins at first—this happened. I was told that I would live to be 86 and that at the half-point (age 43) my life would shift and be happier—happening (at least the age 43 happy part). I was also told that I was a French nun in my past life and brought a lot of that mindset to this lifetime, and carried around a bunch of Catholic guilt and felt I was always sinning with my very thoughts! SO NOT HAPPENING anymore….

I’ve been a prude for the first half of my life. For the second half, I’m going to be sexy. Of course last year at this time, I was going to be a Buddhist monk, and was seriously considering growing my hair out all grey, never ever wearing makeup again, and going braless. So, really, we don’t know what to expect from me. As you can tell by looking over my last two posts, where I went from exceedingly on top of all the universes, to basically, and literally, cry me a river.

But, despite my track record, I’d thought I’d give this sexy thing a shot, and at least make a list, since I love lists anyhow. And thusly, I’ve included my ten goals for the next eight months, that leads us into February 2013, and day 366 (leap year, remember).


Prude to SEXY!

My IT List for Sexy

The High SEXY boots

1. High Boots. A must. With a short skirt and leggings, and a powerful cat walk.

A small sexy ankle tattoo. Perhaps a tiny sun or a tiger symbol.

2. Must have a small, sexy ankle tattoo. A permanent stamp that says the prude is gone and to banish the nun in me.

3. Study sexy action. Study sexy poses, sexy movies, and  sexy singing.


4. Classic Guitar and Lessons. Preferably taught by a dark, gorgeous hunk of burning love.

5. Bikini on the beach. Yes, bikini.

Maui 2012

6.  Lots and lots of submerging in water. River walking. Hit the beach. Swim in the pool. Soak in hot tub. Go to hot springs. Bubble baths.


7. Kayaking tour and buying a kayak and wetsuit.


8. Belly dancing in this dress. Ooh la la!

Where I walk in Washington State

9. Nature

Trees and more trees. And hugging trees. Hiking. State parks. Forests. Resting on the grass by the lake. Sitting on the bench and watching the birds. Breathing in the air. Breathing.


10. Kundalini Yoga

Got to keep the second chakra fed, or I’ll never pose for that photo of me at the water’s edge, posing sexy in a bikini, donning a belly pierce and one high boot, with the other foot bare, as to show of my ankle tattoo, all while strumming a guitar in a kayak and mouthing “I love you.”

Woke up to this today.  This music is SEXY, too. 

Day 97: Fact or Fiction Double Challenge: Guess and Press

Fact or Fiction Double Challenge: Guess and Press

Fellow Bloggers: Your mission, if you so choose, is to (1) Read this list; (2) Figure out what number below is fiction; (3) Write in the comment area the number you think is fiction;  (4) Copy and paste this introduction onto your blog; (5) Compose your own Fact of Fiction list on your blog; (6) Return here and in the comment section put a link to your list.

Fellow Non-Bloggers: Your mission, if you so choose, is to (1) Read this list; (2) Figure out what number below is fiction; (3) Write in the comment area the number you think is fiction;  (4) Compose your own Fact of Fiction list of three or more things in the comment section below.

My answer will be in tomorrow’s post. If you don’t partake the aliens will get you!


 1.  I had three sets of braces. Three! I had to have them all yanked off when we moved to the east coast; only to have those new braces yanked off and replaced when we moved back west, eight months later. As if that wasn’t enough, I also had this torture device called a Frankle—a double retainer gadget that made it impossible to eat or talk.

2. Stardom: I once went to a movie theater in Carmel, California and John Travolta and his wife were in the far back row. He is as sexy in person. I once was in a bar with Clint Eastwood. My uncle dated Patty Hearst. I lived around the block from Shirley Temple Black.

3. My husband and I won the newlywed game on the cruise ship. My husband’s was the winning answer because he guessed his annoying habit that I had spilled to the entire audience. I was disappointed because our prize was a couple of wine glasses. Show me the money!

4. I was a swimsuit model for a travel catalog for a Malta hotel. The photographer complained about my double-jointed arms and how they looked awkward during the photo shoot. “What’s wrong with your arms?” he groaned.

5. I was a perfume model for Macy’s. One of those dressed up gals that annoys people by spraying them with chemicals and asking how they like it. I made big bucks but only could handle one day of spraying strangers. Much like a male cat, I felt.

6. One of my front teeth is mostly gone and has a fake tooth over it. Underneath the fake tooth is a little toothpick shaped stub. Originally, before the expensive repair, I had a root canal without any pain-killer. During the procedure the dentist asked if I wanted to see the root, and I said, “Are you crazy?”

7. I met my husband by writing a personal ad in the newspaper. Interesting men listened to a recorded message in which I outlined FIFTY specific traits I was looking for in a mate. I rated each man on a scale of one to ten, based on his response. This was before internet and speed dating. I screened about 100 guys over the phone, met fifteen, and chose my husband. It was between him and a lawyer with a limp. I rated my husband an Eight.     (No offense to people with a limp; I limp often.)

8. Throughout my childhood I had detailed dreams about how my pets would die. I would wake up in the night and go running to my mom’s bedroom. About seven days later following my dream, the pets would die exactly as I had described. I had a pet cemetery in my backyard.

9. One of my most embarrassing moments in high school happened when I reached into my purse to grab some change and accidentally flung out a sanitary napkin across the crowded school cafeteria. Three of the most popular boys were standing nearby, and one bent down to retrieve the pad for me.

10. The one time we went to Maui, we experienced the worst storm they’d had in years. The sewers overflowed and the beaches were all closed. We spent the first few days inside the condo watching television. At night I worried about the water rising and taking my life. Later in the week, I threw up on the whale watching boat. The instructions were to throw up over the side of the deck. No one told me this didn’t mean from the top deck. My son screamed, so the whole boatload could here: “Stop Mom, you’re killing the fish!” But he didn’t have to worry, as I threw up all over the bottom level of the boat.

To Ponder 

My son with Aspergers, as I tucked him into bed last night, completely serious tone, said:

“I can’t wait to live in a retirement home. So everyone will take care of me.” ~ Joe, age 13



To Motivate

Kindred Spirit Posted a Great Series of YouTubes Wayne Dyer on appreciation.

Kindred Spirit this reminds me of you: “No Limit People are human beings that take what they are and accept it. And don’t tell themselves that somehow they are deficient because of anything about themselves.” ~ Wayne Dyer



To Remember

I love you just the way you are.

This is dedicated to my new friend Alien Hippy.

Strum for Me 

Strum for me

Sweet gentle man

As guitar as to harp

Muses fuse

And harp beats still

by Samantha Craft, May 2012



You are so Beautiful to Me. This means you.

Day 94: Samtastico the Avenger’s Gobbledygook and Missing Slipstream Download

Sometimes I am an intense painter opening the art gallery doors to the crowds; only to observe the patrons scratching their heads in confusion at my masterpiece that I have come to slowly realize resembles an abstract of a close up donkey butt.

Free Wallpaper at fwallpapers.com/view/funny-donkey

Sometimes I am a self-inflated preschooler that longs to share hygiene facts, like the garlic cream I rubbed on my shoulder to try to erase these weird skin growths I’ve acquired since occupying the dark and humid northwest.

Sometimes I am an overloaded sponge of thoughts and images pounding my head in rapid procession into the pinewood computer table.

Sometimes I am a teary-eyed poet dripping my melancholic prose across the space called cyber.

Today I am Crazy Frog rocking out and longing to paint a donkey butt abstract.

Be Happy. Sing with Me, now!

By the end of this prose you will be one of the privileged few people in this universe that understands the title of this post. This understanding will gift you with undeniable powers to peruse through almost any of my other writings with a knowing nod of recognition and sympathy. Welcome to the Sam Zone!

One of my blogging pals, a cool male kindergarten teacher and natural poet, calls my writing Samtastic.  Sometimes. Well, at least twice. Now that I’m thinking about it, I’ve written ninety-four posts and he has only used that word two or three times. What is that percentage?

Regardless of the stats, the word Samtastic is part of the reason I contemplate changing my legal name to Sam. How cool to have the mantra: Samtastic. I’d add a letter O to the end though, to make the word pseudo-Italian. I dare you to say Samtastico without a smile and without moving your hands in gesture. Anyone craving calzones smothered in mozzarella besides me?

Those that have been reading my prose—aka: contemplative poetry, quirky tales, vivacious rambles, verbose lists—have likely heard mention of The Geek Posse. Well, they’ve been collaborating in a Samtastic way to assist me in reaching conclusions about my little life. Go team brain!

The collaboration is akin to having an extended coffee chat with a dear friend, laughing and crying hysterically together, and then sharing that mutual glow of having just solved all the world’s problems in one sitting! Only with the Geek Posse, the participant is just solo-me and select spheres of my brain.

With the help of the posse, I’ve recently realized (probably nine weeks later than my longtime faithful reader: aka George) that in the passing months, I inadvertently ventured into a warped time zone, and magnificently morphed into Asperger’s Woman: Avenger of all Things Aspie!

See my little cape? It’s red and blue starred with purple zigzags and lemon drops.

I’m finally coming out of a tailspin into Aspie Land and realizing my life is much more than Aspergers.

Amazing. I know!

This decreases my abstract donkey-butt longing from boil to simmer.

Sidetrack: Many Literary Advice Books ardently advice would-be authors to not use adverbs too often. But the combined ly letters intrigue me. The books also warn not to ramble, go off tangent, and use made up words. That’s why I burned all my writing manuals and used them as a source of heat when we had the three-day power outage during January’s snowstorm.

Back to the Geek Posse, two days ago, while fasting and listening to mantras, guru me had a wonderful series of images flash through my mind regarding my association with Aspergers. I call this experience of seeing images fly, flap, and belly flop across my mind: downloading. During downloading, I receive information, possibly from galactic powers, angels, or intelligent interactive bacteria. It’s quite a Jungian experience, liken to the collective unconscious slipstream propelling me forward in extremely vivid thought.

This time after downloading the information and reading the words to myself, I heard a very serious female voice, similar to Captain Kathryn Janeway from the Starfleet Starship USS Voyager.

Look What I Found! Totally Unrelated and Totally Awesome!

Sidetrack: How do I know Captain Janeway’s voice? Remember I married a science major, a euphemism for smart geek who likes all things Trek-like. Remember, too, I have Aspergers, so I was rather clueless about what a science major really meant beyond the periodic table. The same cluelessness I had about three boys equaling perpetual dirty area under toilet.

Awesomeness in Geek Format!

Sidetrack: I just looked up Fun Facts about the Periodic Table and there was nothing fun at all. Just a bunch of confusing questions, like: Which is the lightest element with an atomic symbol that is also a US state postal code? Really? That’s fun?

I also found Periodic Table Puns like:

What do you do to flowers? Platinum

What a doctor does to his patients – Cur ium, Hel ium, or Bari um

I’m still trying to decide if this means the doctor is giving a barium enema or burying them. One of my superpowers is the ability to crack myself up, and I guess also composing downloaded prose from beyond and hearing the voice of female space captain. Hmmm? And they let me teach children.

Tomorrow, I’ll read some more of those Periodic Table Fun Facts before I write, so I can be in a serious mood when I introduce the downloaded slipstream. For now, all the serious parts of me Argon. So be good until tomorrow. Because I’ve got my ion you! HeHe (2 isotopes of helium).

Samtastico Quiz. Pass or fail. If you can now understand the title of this post you pass. If not, at least you learned a barium joke!

I wonder if this person is one of my followers. That would make sense.

Day Forty: 13 Mouth Facts


Each and everyday, many people in the blogging realm are typing in the search terms 13 or mouthGuess one place their glorious search takes these inquiring minds? Yep! You’re such a smart cookie! Right here: the happy little place of Everyday Aspergers.

Because of the lovely search term mouth, my Proverbial Foot in the Mouth post keeps ranking in the top five out of all my blog posts.

I can understand the obsession with the awesome number 13. Who doesn’t love number 13 facts? But why are numerous earthlings searching for the word mouth? Is it something to do with the Mayan calendar?

My middle-son offered studiously, when queried about the blogging-mouth-hunts, “It’s quite obvious, Mom. They are looking for a good dentist, and want to see what type of job the dentists are doing.”

Great thinking. But when I think of people searching for the word mouth, my mind doesn’t go in that exact dentist-handy-work direction.

One can only hypothesize.

Because I cannot control the search term mouth from boosting a post’s ranking—a post I consider mediocre in comparison to the other grand knowledge found  on this mighty blog—today I have spent many, many hours searching for 13 intriguing mouth images and  13 facts about mouths.

My favorite part was Googling: “Do Hippos Really Fart through their Mouths?”  I still don’t know. Although, I found some disturbing YouTube videos on the subject matter. Okay, without further nonsensical ado, I present a one of a kind list of 13 Mouth Facts.

13  Mouth Facts

People whose mouths have narrow roofs are more likely to snore.

It takes food seven seconds to go from the mouth to the stomach.

In Pennsylvania you may not catch a fish by any body part except the mouth.

A jellyfish passes waste material through its mouth.

An average dog’s mouth exerts 150 to 200 pounds of pressure per square inch.

A person cannot taste food unless it is mixed with saliva.

The crocodile bird flies into the open mouth of a crocodile and cleans its teeth for it.

The snail’s mouth is no larger than the head of a pin, but it can have over 25,000 teeth.

It takes more muscles to frown than smile.

Your tongue is the strongest muscle in your body.

Some moths never eat anything as adults because they don’t have mouths. They live on their caterpillar energy.

When a person pees a small deposit of urine enters the mouth through the saliva glands.

Just as we all have unique fingerprints, we all have unique tongue prints.

The Geek Posse Chimed in on more random facts “we” found while surfing the net.

Sir Brain: 80% of the brain is water.

LV: You cant’ tickle yourself!

Prophet: The sentence “The quick brown fox jumps over a lazy dog” uses every letter of the alphabet.

Crazy Frog: A group of frogs is called an army.

Little Me: Scientists say the higher your I.Q., the more you dream.

Phantom: A duck’s quack doesn’t echo. No one knows why.

Elephant: One pound of peanut butter typically contains up to 150 bug fragments and 5 rodent hairs.

OCFlea: A female flea consumes 15 times her own body weight in blood every day.

Crazy Frog cites the example of this anomaly as a side lesson: A frog when dropped should move towards the ground. If the frog remains in mid-air, the levitation would be considered an anomaly. Or considered super darn Matrix-Cool!

Sam Craft's Mouth. Or I guess, teeth!

Note: I have not confirmed all of these facts to be truthful. Please never rely on the validity of the Internet or the validity of Crazy Frog.