humor

Day 229: Phlegm in a Cup and Love

| Aspergers Girls

Now as much as I love, love, love someone else doing the dishes and fretting about dinner, the trade-off of viral bronchitis—so not worth it!

Seems some nasty bug is circulating the state, well at least this town. Watch out for the attack. Not fun in the least.

Picture red plastic cup marked “phlegm” and me in blue medical mask, and endless hacking. Fever seems to have FINALLY subsided; at least I no longer ache in places I didn’t know existed. And the paranoid thoughts of being the very first person to die of the new viral outbreak, set to kill 10% of the population, have stopped. At least for the most part.

Still I’m left rib-bruised, out of breath, and wondering what happened during the month of September, beyond what I learned from season eight of Grey’s Anatomy and seasons one through eight (yes, eight seasons) of Everybody Loves Raymond.

The good news is I’m in love! Yes. I am. His name is Robert.

He is a fictional character on the show Everybody Loves Raymond, a very tall, insecure Italian who is just one giant adorable bear. Though I realize the episodes are over a decade old (and therefore Robert is in his fifties now), and that Robert is fictional, and thusly doesn’t really exist, I am in love nonetheless. He’s more attainable than the young wealthy god-like creature in the Shades of Grey series anyhow.

When I was having fever dreams, during the early stages of my illness, my dreams were related to the fictional character Robert, (or to dimensional time travel during the era of futuristic war-ridden earth). I didn’t dream of Robert. I dreamt his dreams. Yes, indeed, in my fever-state I believed I was Robert. After over 100 episodes I imagine our minds had molded together in someway. As Robert, I dreamt as Robert, and had dreams about his circumstances that befell him while on the show. Yes, I had fictional character anxiety dreams. Who would have thought that was even possible?

Dreaming I was Robert was far better than the jumping from one dimension to the next dimension dreams, to recruit and “save” people who would make good warriors back on earth for the alien battle we’d soon be fighting. There was a sophisticated screening mechanism for determining what individuals were suitable to be pretty much kidnapped from their dimension and brought back to ours. Basically, if your life sucked, and probably would continue to suck, or lead to early death, or harm to others, we stole you. Nice mind I have. Don’t you think?

So that’s what I do when I’m sick: Watch lots of television, obsess about all the feasible ways of expiring, kidnap people in other dimensions, and fall in love with fictional characters. Probably not too far off the mainstream. That and write poetry—when the head’s not pounding and I’m not catching phlegm in a cup.

~~~~~

Love Leaves

I shall not tread

Into thy dark night

A cornucopia of lost cause

Landscape stripped barren

By voice of horned trumpet

Melody suffocated by circumstance

Mind bled out by tourniquet expired

Whistle blown at ruptured drum

Bleakness wrapped as toy for infant

Revealed broken, rusted blade

When torn

Open, his tangled mane made web of longing

Prepped and fondued to tempt desire

Lion’s thirst, a churning ache

Thick swallowed whole

Harbored

A chest plate of veins, pulsing blue

Tulips turned stone

Roots in mire

Crushed sweet

Gone

Sour echo vines and chokes

Stiffens in eradication

Layers thick upon cake of earth

Stomped brittle leaves remain

Rocked forth

In cradle of you

~ Sam Craft, Sept. 2012

~~~~~

 

Love Enters

Love enters

Starlit glow aflame

Beauty infinite

Whispers honey

Recognition formed

Beyond womb

Of mother’s promise

As feather set upon chariot wind

I move within your substance

The sound of songbirds assembles

Lullaby of cherubs

And silence

He knows not

How to exist

When I am filled

With your beckoning

~ Sam Craft, Sept 2012

 

 

And this video Explains Exactly How I felt during my illness

Day 222: The Belly of A Star

| Aspergers Girls

Things That Made Me Smile Today:

1. I Am the Belly of A Star

I found the original person’s name who wrote the following quote that has been circulating around social media pages; and then found the person’s promotional Facebook page. And I liked what I found. By the way, by the author’s account, NASA plagiarized his words below; that makes me feel like a kindred spirit. Not that NASA has stolen any of my work, yet. But they do do research on alien life, right? (hehe: I wrote do-do.)

“Consider that you can see less than 1% of the electromagnetic spectrum and hear less than 1% of the acoustic spectrum. As you read this, you are traveling at 220 km/sec across the galaxy. 90% of the cells in your body carry their own microbial DNA and are not “you.” The atoms in your body are 99.9999999999999999% empty space and none of them are the ones you were born with, but they all originated in the belly of a star. Human beings have 46 chromosomes, 2 less than the common potato. The existence of the rainbow depends on the conical photoreceptors in your eyes; to animals without cones, the rainbow does not exist. So you don’t just look at a rainbow, you create it. This is pretty amazing, especially considering that all the beautiful colors you see represent less than 1% of the electromagnetic spectrum.” –Sergio Toporek

File:Starsinthesky.jpg
image from Wikipedia

2. Superb Self-Awareness

I admitted to myself that my fixation to blog has turned into a fixation to prepare my son’s homeschool curriculum; and laughing at the fact, that beyond eating and sleeping, all I did today was research. I can plan a month’s worth of curriculum and lesson plans in two days. Yes, I am that good…or quirky…or driven…or crazed. You pick. I don’t care.

Excellent Source: www.learner.org

3. Happy Babies

In the little time I stopped obsessing over homeschool, I found this twin baby video someone had shared on Facebook…..oh….this is joy.  I could feasibly be one of the first 20,000 people to see what is soon to have a million plus views! I’m always the last to know! Not this time.

4. Appreciating What Happens In Between

I took two long hot showers today: one before my massage and one after. Yes!

5. Accepting my Circumstances with Grace and Gratitude

I ate out and had a not so fun reaction body-wise (yes, body is wise to not want chemicals in food). And was on the couch (researching) most of the day. But I didn’t put myself down about my lack of vigor, my fatigue and lingering pain. Instead, I rolled with the flow, and reminded myself of the source: food. And reminded myself how lucky I am to have a husband who never complains when I am on the couch, and who even cleaned the whole of the kitchen. And no, I don’t fake my fatigue to get the kitchen cleaned, but the thought has crossed my mind.

6. Knowing I AM…the ant that moves the  rubber tree plant!

I read (and cried over) a comment a reader left for me under this link on Female Traits which reminded me of why I continue to post. Why despite my fatigue, mood swings, sometimes lack of confidence, and various distractions (euphemism for fixations), I will continue to share with authenticity and high-hopes.

7. No Longer Driven to Take Photos of ME

After several months, I do not have the need to post a photo of myself! I finally figured out what I look like. Yes, I still see myself in parts, but I’ve put the parts together into a makeshift puzzle, glued the pieces together onto cardboard, and hanged a copy in my mind. I’m fairly certain I’m a bendy doll with over-sized alien eyes, elven ears, hair with its own intelligence and stubbornness, and a smile that is still searching for a home, but will always keep knocking.  Yep, that sounds about right.

8. I Have Lost the Angst

Since May I’ve had an ache in my…oh, I better delete this number, as to not depress my husband. Those of you who need to know, see  My Aching Loins.

9. Texting my Son

I pretended to be my teenage son’s girlfriend (obviously he knew I wasn’t) and sent him a text reminding him that his mom (that’s me) wanted him to get off the Xbox game system he was playing downstairs. I am upstairs, and like I mentioned, couch-bound. He texted back “??????What???????” I texted: “Poor Guy.” Then he texted, or at least I thought he texted: “Um, I’m not even close to ten.” And I thought, wow, he really is a Leo, with that witty bite. He thinks I am immature. That I act like a ten-year-old. I felt a tinge of guilt for being so quirky and odd, and was thinking of how to apologize, when I reread his text. It read: “Um, its not even close to ten.” So I’d misread the clock and his text. But my son didn’t make fun of me! At least not like when I told him I purposely got this temporary second brain tattoo just to embarrass him on our son and mother outing.

10. Rediscovering Galileo

There is some language in this one. I think my thirteen year old would like to be homeschooled at this speed and with this language. This is my competition. Oh, boy!

Remembering Galileo. Remembering my favorite song Galileo by my favorite band (in the 90’s) The Indigo Girls. Remembering I dragged my boyfriend to an Indigo Girls’ concert on a hot August day. Remembering that we squeezed our way through a sweaty thick crowd to get a better view of the band. Remembering I started to look around. Remembering there were only women. Remembering all the women were kissing super close. Remembering that my boyfriend looked at me and said, “You do know that the band members are lesbian? Right?” And me, with my eyes growing wide, asking, “Really?”

Did I mention, I’m usually the last to know?

I now bring you awesomeness….

Oh, look; it’s post 222….

Okay…so I just posted this post: Day 222: The Belly of a Star. We call it “publishing” in blog world. Right after I posted WordPress (who gives me this blog) sends me a notice, like they always do, if someone has commented on my blog or linked my post to their blog. A little orange light goes off in the upper right hand corner of my blog to notify me.

Well, I’m looking at this light and reading, and I see it’s someone named The Belly of a Star, and I’m thinking: Wow, that’s a really cool name. I wonder what their blog is like?

The truth is, I do this each and everytime that I link back to an older post of mine. Everytime I think someone else has linked to my blog. I forget it’s me!

This time, I even thought: Wow, what a coincidence that she was looking at the exact same post I was at the exact same time; and she linked to her blog, just like I did.

And then L.V. (The little voice in my head); she says that person is you CRAZY LADY. You wrote The Belly of a Star. Remember it was like two fricken seconds ago, brainless!

And I think: Wow, that’s a cool name, Belly of a Star.

I know…I know…you don’t have to tell me. I know I say Wow way too much. 🙂

Day 220: I Gotta Be Me

| Aspergers Girls

My ten-year-old son made his way towards the aisle lined with big, bulky twenty-dollar televisions. “Those are ancient,” he commented. “Yes, they are,” I answered.

We were at Goodwill, a national chain that sells used items. After twenty minutes of strolling together, looking at various treasures and collecting a few homeschool materials, I had explained to my son, amongst other things, the complexity of college statistic textbooks and why he might not be interested in purchasing one today, the perplexity of eight-track tapes and how they don’t sell new players any longer, the oddness of bowl-shaped old hair dryers that went atop the head, and the sad reality that this store didn’t have used goldfish.

As we wrapped up our mini-excursion, and the mini-lessons, we stood in line to make our purchase. Seeing us there, a fellow lady customer, standing in front of us in the checkout line, motioned to our mostly empty cart, and said, “Please, go first. You don’t have much.”

I smiled and replied, ” Thank you. I do that, too, let people go in front of me. That was kind.”

As she backed up her cart and we swapped places, I noted there was a Starbuck’s coffee cup in her cart. I don’t normally drink coffee. It turns me into a very dynamic thinker who believes she can solve all the world problems, if given an hour. In fact, during my walk today, around the lake, I think I completed three blog articles in my head. As today, I had coffee.

At the store, I turned to the young lady, motioned to her coffee cup in the front of her cart, and said, “I left my Starbucks in the car. I can’t wait to get back to it.”

As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt like a goof. I always feel like a goof when thoughts quickly brew and percolate in my mind, and spit themselves out before I have time to stop them.

After I blushed, this kind customer, a woman about half my age (say twelve), began a full-blown monologue that sounded something to the tune of:

“I thought about leaving my coffee in the car. But I didn’t. I brought it in. It’s the same coffee I always get. I don’t know why I always get the same flavor, white mocha, but I do. It’s silly, but I always get the same. Maybe I should try more variety. I was going to leave the coffee in the car. I was. I wasn’t sure I should bring it into the store, but then I thought, what if I die. I mean, what if I drop dead, and the last thing I think is: I should have brought my coffee. I mean if you’re going to die, you might as well have had coffee first. Who knows. This could be my last day. My last hour. And here I’d be dying without my coffee. And with the way my life’s been going lately—lots of personal crisis and stuff, that just makes me upset. Well, this coffee is a real treat. If you know what I mean. I need to treat myself, now, more than ever. Plus, I’m anemic, and I get so cold. That’s why I’m wearing this. (Motions to two or three layers she’s wearing, and the high neckline of her cotton sweater.) I must look pretty silly wearing this in the summer. But my anemia, it makes me very cold. I shiver sometimes. I have to dress this way. That’s why I’m shopping. This cart had my whole fall wardrobe. Can you believe it? The whole season, right here.”

When she was finished, she grinned wider. At first I was speechless, as I watched my son’s eyes grow from super large and then shrink back to normal size. But I was certain to politely validated the lady, before I set out to pay for my few items.

Hours later, I keep smiling knowingly to myself as I visualize the woman with the mulit-layers and white-mocha coffee. I keep hearing her words in my head, seeing her cart full of clothes, and watching her weave her story.

I can’t help but think that my big guy in the sky (multiple gods, or woman or tree or void, depending on your beliefs) is smiling down with a wink and saying, “See how grand it is to be quirky! See how grand to be you!”

I can’t help but here the phrase I gotta be me resonating in my mind.

I can’t help but chuckle in delight.

I can’t help but like myself a little better.

And as a bizarre-o side note, I do have this rare superpower. I can tell when white paper cups with lids are empty.  Amazing, I know.  When I’m watching a movie or sitcom, when the actors are drinking from paper coffee cups, I can tell they don’t often have a full cup. And I can tell when people in real life have hardly anything left in their cup. It’s true! I haven’t figured out how to use this rare, and now probably sought after, superpower. But stay tuned. I’m sure to find out soon! I just hope no one tries to steal my superpower from my amazing mega brain!

Day 217: And the Award Goes to….

| Aspergers Girls

Search Engine Terms Awards

Yes, even search engine terms long to be noticed and adorned.

Below I’ve listed some of the less common search engine terms that led people to my blog. In my infinite desire to process and analyze and sort data, (and to chuckle), I have spent hours scanning through thousands of words to create a list of my favorites. (Yes, this is what I do for amusement.)

“Search engine term awards?” You query, with a wry grin.

“Well, yes! Why the heck not?” I quibble, with a devious wink.

The Picturing in my Mind Award

mermaid butt

naked man with a butterfly on his buttock

vampires naked

The Sweetness Award

memory of a little girl who once danced like a butterfly

innocent women pics

The Spit-with-Laughter on my Keyboard Award

invasion of the body snatchers kill and replace

Mememememememe

Youboob

organizing a messy aspergerian

Collective term for sloths

The Shades of Aspie Award

addicted to aspergers man

Sexy Asperger girl

Everyday naked people

Sexy Aspergers

Your sexy grandmother

wooing aspergers girls

do dominant guys like asperger girls

hot guys with asperger’s

aspies in bikinis

best female voluptuous sensual nude body

how i surprised my hubby for his birthday- naked

The Must Answer Award

can women with aspergers be sexy (Oh, Yes!)

asperger’s brain vs normal brain (Asperger’s wins)

do all aspergers girls lack empathy (nope, but you might)

how to tell if an aspergers guy likes you (ask him)

What are qualities women with aspergers want in a man (authenticity, humor, honesty, nice butt and eyes)

Can aspie girls be popular (yes)

What’s normal (good question)

why do aspies hardly text back (I think there might be another reason)

how to tell someone you have aspergers (I have Aspergers)

is it true girls lose their ass (no, last time I checked there were no assless women)

How do you make an Asperger man to love you (You learn proper grammar)

why are asperger people handsome (Because they radiate truth)

how to tell if someone with aspergers likes you  (If they talk  to you and compliment you all the time, send you little gifts, and smoother you in love)

do people with asburgers understand humor? (I’m laughing at your spelling!)

The Heart Smile Award

i am in love with an aspergers girl

caution i may hug you

embrace the beauty

aspergers visions god

what is aspergers indigo world change

incarnated angels asperger’s syndrome

for my song is a lullaby to soothe your soul…

i’m female, intelligent, emotional, imaginative – Asperger

need a list of care to take care of myself to look feminine everyday and pretty, beautiful for my husband to be?

my son has aspergers what is your superpower

The What the Frick? Award

not using the aspergers anymore

aspergers love to fish

husband hears wife ask rapist to please come again

Watch Out! Award

why am i attracted to other men than my husband all the time

Been There, Done That Award

aspergers crying music

asperger i cant help my blank stare

aspergers fixations love dependency

aspergers too much caffeine

aspergers need to escape reality

seven truths we must accept about  our ego

aspergers in children wont sleep and wont mind

aspergers need to write lists

aspergers mixing up words

choking on saliva while awake

I’m falling inlove

Why I can’t keep my friends, am I too intense

What to do when you are losing your mind

Prude

doll hiding closet scary

So Me Award

lady with messy hair & no makeup

california burger veggie patties real good food from this good earth

My Cupid Award

how to get to an asperger girls heart ( you just did)

~~~~~~

Great unplugged concert. Love the second song…..sigh…..

 

Day 215: Why You Don’t Want to Date Me

| Aspergers Girls

Why you don’t want to date me…

1) Well first off I’m married, and that can get complicated; and my husband has a black belt in a particular branch of martial arts, which I can’t spell tonight. So it would be a surprise attack.

2) I used to sing a song about my grandmother’s boobs when I was younger. I taught the song to my younger cousin. We would stuff our shirts with socks, cup our hands over our chest, and sing together: “Grandma’s little boobies go boom, boom, boom, boom. Grandma’s little boobies go boom, boom, boom!” It was a favorite party song. I choreographed the whole thing. On the first line our hands would shoot out in front of us. On the second stanza, we’d drop our hands down with each boom, until they almost touched the floor. Grandma’s boobs weren’t little, still aren’t. Don’t know why I called them little to begin with. But sometimes I still sing the song. Only now I’m crying in the mirror. (Don’t ask me how this is related to dating. It just is. Boobs are always related to dating.)

3) I get super excited. Just ask anyone who has ever taken a walk with me. I like to process when I walk. I like to process even more when I am first getting to know someone. I always apologize for my rambling. And I always get the same half-smile and bewildered eyes, in response. People usually say, “It’s alright.” But I secretly want them to tell me they really enjoyed all my insights. That has yet to happen.

4) I am a very picky eater and will stress over where to go out to eat. Then when I finally decide where I want to eat, I will take forever to decide between the three things on the menu that I might like. I discuss the pros and cons of each particular appetizer. I analyze the menu and point out to the waitress misprints and errors. I question the authenticity of the food description. I try to remember is it farm raised salmon that’s better or wild. I interrupt patrons to ask what they have ordered, and if it is indeed any good. I will taste your food from your plate without asking, especially mashed potatoes. I try to help people. Once I interrupted a couple and said: “Based on your conversation, it sounds like your grandson might have Aspergers.” No worries, I introduced myself first. The grandpa wasn’t too thrilled. I heard him say: “Boy, that lady has got some big ears on her!” I didn’t take it personally because my ears weren’t showing.

5) I will ask you many questions, such as: Is there anything in my teeth? Do I look bloated? How much do you think this would cost to make at home? Do you like the food? Are you full? Did you get enough to eat? Do you want dessert? Do you know soda is bad for you? Are you having a second soda? How are you going to work off all that soda? Are the refills free? Did you leave enough for the tip? How much? Are you sure? What do you think of the waiter’s personality? Would you hire him? Can I have the rest of your potatoes? Want to guess what color I’m thinking of? Will you guess the number? Did you have a good time? Do you like me? Do you think I’m pretty? Why?

6) As a former teacher and mother of three energetic boys, I am programmed to play games for survival. While we are waiting for our food, I will likely engage you in a game of hangman, connect the dots, I-Spy, and guess the animal I’m thinking. Electronics are not allowed at the table, as I require your full attention. And it is important to follow all my rules. And don’t even try watching television. Before we sit down in a sport’s bar, I will make certain there are no televisions in your line of vision, as to not take away from our time together. Of course, I would question why you were taking me to a cheap sport’s bar to begin with.

7) I am not a meat eater, and haven’t been since 1984 (the year I was born). So, if you ask me to help you cut your meat, especially ribs, I will try to use a butter knife and the ribs will fly across the table and plop on the floor and people will stare. But you will likely cut your own ribs, and I will give a look of disgust and tell you that I hate meat breath. Then I might, depending on my mood, remind you of one of the many documentaries I have viewed. I might even write the name down for you on a napkin. I will then eat your mashed potatoes when you are not looking.

8) I will compliment you. I will tell you have nice eyes or a nice smile, and mean it. I will likely compliment the restaurant staff, as well. Then I will stare at parts of your body that don’t look perfectly to scale. I will point out the facial hair that needs to be shaved, the rouge eyebrow hair, the freckle that looks questionable, the blemish, the grey hair, the wrinkled shirt, the old shoes, the nostril hair, and whatever else catches my attention. Unless you are a stone statue perfectly carved, I will find something to wonder about. I will obsess that perhaps you have a terrible disease or are allergic to something, and that is why there is a pimple on your neck. I will point out the bug bites on your arm. I will try to memorize your face, close my eyes and reopen them, and see if I can remember your hairline and freckles. Most of this I will do in my head and not say aloud. So I will be sitting there preoccupied, with a weird expression on my face, and one eyebrow raised high, and not listening to a word you are saying.

9) I will have to guess the amount on the bill. I will say, “Wait, wait, wait, let me guess!” Then I will calculate everything we consumed and add the totals up in my head, including tax. Then I will proclaim my guess. If I am within a dollar, I will smile so proudly. If I am wrong, I will go back and justify my answer, figuring out something I forgot, like the price of your soda. I will blame you for my error. Then I will lean over your shoulder to make sure you leave a twenty percent tip or higher; unless the service was terrible, then I will insist you leave fifteen percent exactly. If the waiter is exceptional, I will ask to speak to the manager about the wonderful service. I will tell the waiter first how great he is. And ask you to agree and nod. Then I will double-check the tip. I will still be worrying about the tip by the time we reach the car, and ask you to verify we calculated correctly. I will then ask if you remembered the boxed leftovers on the table, and ask you to go back and get them. I will complain if you have to use the bathroom, as I am tired, and want to go home.

10) You will be in shock, because on the first and second date, I was on my best behavior.