. . . I came upon a man wearing a T-shirt that said: "Half man, half horse," with an arrow pointing downwards. He gave me a big grin as I passed him, but I kept on my city face.

"Probably a lesbian," he said conversationally to his friend.
"Mmhm," said the friend.
"I LIKE lesbians," he said, so as not to be misunderstood.

(REAL mercury, people, not the thimerosal that is, BTW, not found any longer in most vaccines.)

This has long been suspected and there has been some anecdotal evidence of it, but now there is some statistical info on it:

A newly published study of Texas school district data and industrial mercury-release data, conducted by researchers at The University of Texas Health Science Center at San Antonio, indeed shows a statistically significant link between pounds of industrial release of mercury and increased autism rates. It also shows—for the first time in scientific literature—a statistically significant association between autism risk and distance from the mercury source.

ETA: little sis below provided this link, for folks curious about mercury deposits in their area: http://emmma.usgs.gov/mapping.aspx

What a man, what a man, what a man.

I cried buckets, of course.

Gimme a shout-out!

Arie was being punished for behavior last week at school, so he did not go to the Twins/Red Sox game as planned with Jan. janradder has posted a really sweet version of how his night went with Éiden; I wanted to say a little bit about Sunday night here.

It started out badly; Arie wanted to play with a forbidden knick-knack own by Jan's Nana, and I refused to let him. He worried at this like . . . I was going to say "a dog with a bone," but "An Aspie with an idea in his head" is just a zillion times more powerful than a dog with a bone.

I told him that he could obsess over it all night, or he could change his behavior and have a nice time with me. I knew he was being punished, but it didn't have to be all doom and gloom if he didn't want it to be.

And he turned it around! Despite the fact that I am cranky, often tired, and snappish, Arie wrapped the Mommie-Arie time around himself with amazing joy.

We did nothing but the usual: Bath. Quiet time writing in his journal. Stories. Song. Sleep. But he told me halfway through the ritual that he had decided that next year, he wouldn't go to the game, either. He would stay home with me. And he lay down to sleep with the most beautiful smile on his face.

Although it was nice, and I was amazed that he was able to let go of his obsession, I am somewhat annoyed. Staying home with me was supposed to be a PUNISHMENT.

Both of our experiences brought home to me how important it is for kids to have one-on-one time with their parents, though. To the best I am able, I'm going to try to get that much more often for both of them.

I've had a few friends tell me things like: "Oh, I wanted to catch up by reading your journal, but I got too depressed so I stopped," or: "I haven't read your LJ lately. Any new catastrophes I should know about?"

So, here's a moment entirely free from MS or Aspourette's angst: tonight, after janradder cleaned one of his old Beatles' records, he put on the White Album, and Arie, Éiden, and I danced and danced and danced and danced.

When I decided to become a parent, what I'd really looked forward to was dancing with my kids, as I have such great memories of dancing with my own parents and my sisters. Thanks to Aspourette's, it was hard for Arie to pick up on why dancing might be remotely pleasurable, or else he just wanted to jump, flap his hands, and become whipped up unpleasantly. Thanks to MS, dancing has been something I had to do only when things were working.

Well, tonight my body was working, and Arie was calm and inventive, and he and Éiden and I switched dance moves back and forth and back and forth, we did the special waltz hold which involves Mommie holding them in her arms and spinning and spinning.

Arie made up his own wonderful floppy distinctly Aspie dance, and Éiden and I imitated it, adding in our own flourishes.

"Why Don't We Do It In The Road" has never had such youthful, innocent exuberance.

It was delicious.

Except you. You're very nice.

infuckingcredible:

http://politicalticker.blogs.cnn.com/2008/05/08/clinton-touts-support-from-white-americans/

(via karnythia)

My story "Kitchens" will appear in the next issue of Flytrap this June.

I am so pleased this story found a home -- it's probably the most autobiographical piece I've ever written, even though I never appear in it.