The Hike

Yesterday at 10 am we set out for Grotto Falls. It's been a little more than a year since we went last. My very first official post on this blog was some pics my kids had taken at the falls.

To get there, you go to traffic light 8 in Gatlinburg and make a left. You will go down a beautiful meandering drive. The first major attraction to those who prefer scenery without the long hike is Rainbow Falls. It's on your right a little ways up and you can park there and hear the falls from the lot. I was worried that maybe I was wrong and our hike last year had actually been Rainbow Falls and not Grotto Falls, and the drive had been so long from Knoxville, I was concerned that if I passed up this parking lot I was actually missing the hike. It was a one way road and in order to turn around I would have to take it to the end. It's my brain. It doubts me all the time.

So we parked in the second lot and went back to the Rainbow Falls lot. Upon entering the trail, we saw a sign that said "Grotto Falls 3.5". I did a little thinking, and decided we would do it. I needed the exercise badly, because lately I feel like jumping out of my skin all the time and I wanted to wear myself out. I also thought that the kids could do it. And they did impress me. We hadn't had lunch, and we still hiked 7 miles in all, and they whined less than they do at Lowe's.
I loved this tree stump. It made me think of that book Watcher in the Woods. I don't really remember the book, but I know it was eerie and there was a tree in it like this.
This was a doe we followed for a little while. This path was almost deserted. She didn't seem to be too concerned that we were following her. I was a bit concerned that we would run into a bear though.
What a cute little mushroom. I think it looks like a fairy place. About five minutes after this we saw some poop right in the middle of the trail. It looked like pie filling it was so full of berries, and it seemed mighty fresh. It wasn't deer poop, because deer poop is kind of pretty. I know that sounds weird, but it looks like big coffee beans and its shiny. I worried this was bear poop, and hoped this bear didn't have a hankerin' for kid meat. I looked it up on the internet when I got home, and it was actually bear poop. It was much fresher looking than any of the pictures I found online.

We hit the Grotto Falls trail after a 2.5 mile hike on the primitive trail. We hiked another mile to get to the falls. They were gorgeous of course. There were lots of people there.


Josie found lots of salamanders. Every time we go out to the rivers in the Smokies we look for them, but have had no success. We found a larvae once in Norris, but that was it. She found plenty at the falls, and managed to snap a picture of this one. He was about four inches long with a head the size of a hershey's kiss, so he was pretty big.

Walking back along the populated trail, another hiker pointed out bear tracks to us. They didn't really show up in this picture.


We got back to the end of the Grotto trail and decided we would try to get back to our car by traveling on the road. It was smooth. We were very thirsty by this point, and the kids were complaining about the bugs. Josie remarked that they were midges and they had red eyes. I asked her how she could tell on such a tiny bug. She said "When I squoosh them between my eyelids, I take them out and look at them." This was a deer by the road. It was the last picture before my camera ran out of memory, and about that point I wasn't giving a shit about my camera's memory. I was just ready to get home. We'd been hiking for about 5 hours, and we were done.

The deserted trail we had been on originally was just up a small hill from the road, so we climbed up to it to finish our endless hike. About .7 miles from the end of the trail, Jake looks up into the woods and calls to me breathlessly. "The bear! The bear!" It was a small bear about 20 feet away. I felt like it was a bit too close for comfort, but I was also excited to see it. I didn't take a picture, I just wanted to look at him and then get to the car.

It took us about an hour and a half to get home from Gatlinburg due to traffic, and stopping at McDonalds to replenish our calories. I was very proud of my kids. They whined less than me, and if you know how whiny they can get, you have to wonder about how much I was whining. Honestly, not much. And I thought I was going to wheeze at one point, but that was only because a hiker on the Grotto Falls trail passed me and she was wearing some Estee Lauder fragrance that really gets to my respiratory system.

After all of that you would think I would have calmed a bit, but I'm still jumpy today. I don't think I'll go on a hike though.

Mrs. McFriendly

I got this at no school, just learning from someone who is so sweet. He loves bunnies, unicorns, kittens and puppies.....in a blender.

You Are a Good Friend Because You're Supportive

You are almost like a life coach for your best friends. You give them help when they need it... but you also know when to give them a push. People tend to rely on you for moral support and advice. You've probably always been mature for your age, so this is a role that's you're comfortable with. A friend like you is one of the rarest kinds. You are both a good mentor and companion. Your friends need you most when: They are confused or worried You really can't be friends with: Someone who only wants to complain Your friendship quote: "The only way to have a friend is to be one."

What Makes You a Good Friend?

A Long Time Ago, In a Galaxy one Zip Code Away

There lived a spoiled little boy. Now the boy has grown up and is selling his old toys on ebay. The kids didn't even touch these Star Wars figures- weren't even curious. What the heck is up with my kids?!

She..... (ahem)...... Sings.

This may look like a roller derby post, and this afternoon, I thought that this evening would end with one. As you know, I love to attend the roller derby when it's in town, since I have some homeschool homies that participate, and they deserve loud praise. I also have some friends from the "way back days" who now I find in the roller realm.

One of those wayback friends knows me as a singer. And I am. But today I am an extremely talented shower singer. Every water droplet sends me waves of applause as I belt out vocals to the glass doors at least once a day.

It used to be that I was a singer for people. That was many years ago. Without fear, I could get up in front of a crowd, put on a big smile, and sing just about anything. I always had the anxiety that comes with excitement, that optimistic feeling that I would do well and they would like me. Then somewhere along the line I dropped the delusions of grandeur, had a couple of kids (one that was particularly troubled by my singing voice for a time), and took up grumbling, barking, declaring, lecturing and praising. I also have an obsession with seeking that elusive animal called silence.

Tonight one of my wayback friends came up to tell me that the person that was supposed to sing "The Star Spangled Banner" was a no show and would I please sing it? I said yes, naturally I would sing, it had only been more than a decade of course, and it was only a notoriously difficult song, and those weren't water droplets out there. I asked her if vomiting was allowed on the rink, to which she replied "no". She showed me to a room where I could warm up for 3 minutes (or vomit, I'm not sure). So I had a hair's breath of time to get adjusted to the fact that I was singing, then adjust to the fact that it was the freaking "Star Spangled Banner", then to find myself a starting note so I would be able to hit freeeeeeeeeeeeeee in a more or less respectable manner.

3 minutes later, I was holding myself up by grasping the edge of the counter in the "soundbox", holding the mic like it was some kind of limb to keep me from falling to my death, and I quiveringly squeaked out our nation's anthem. My voice broke once. It failed a bit in the middle. But I did hit freeeeeeeeeeeeeee. It was all done in the same breathy way I sang "Over the Rainbow" when I was eleven.

Thing is, I sang the "Star Spangled Banner" in the shower recently, and I really impressed myself. It helped that I was prepared for the audience, I knew them well. My sweet little droplets.

After the show there was a knot in my stomach like I hadn't felt since the night I downed two Guinness and a shepherd's pie then took a flight from Boston that experienced engine failure after hitting a flock of birds.

After sitting with a dear friend who attempted to calm me down, I ran into another wayback friend, who is a musician, and the hubby of the other wayback friend that got me tonight's "gig". He fortunately missed my stellar performance. He asked me if I was still singing, I told him I sang tonight and sadly he missed it. Other than that I hadn't sung in public for about 12 years. Then I did something really surprising in light of the fainting episode I had just narrowly avoided. I told him I would love to sing again. (?????) He knew a few people who could help out in that department and we started talking about doing some music.

I came home a bit wired, and sat down to check my email. Another old friend had written me, telling me to learn some Blondie, which would somehow earn me a fine brew at a future show. Yeah, I'll Gitcha if I don't have an anxiety attack first, baby.

(By the way, I would love to sing the national anthem again. I mean that without the sarcasm that the previous paragraphs may lead you to believe is there. Just give me a few weeks prep time with my droplets though. Then I'll tear the house down.)

On the derby end of things:

I would say the ladies played hard, it was a good game, et cetera, but I spent most of my time socializing, so that would be insincere. Next time I'll watch the bout. I do want to say that the Icearium is a great venue, although the crowd seemed a bit more tame than the other roller rink. There seems to be a lot less cheering and involvement from the people. Maybe it's the bright lights that inhibit the rowdiness. I missed that. The bar area was classy looking with a good beer or two on tap. The bathrooms were clean. The floor of the rink was strange. It was made of a rubber mat-type material that was designed in a repeating pattern of tiny octagonal holes. I think it would be a very bad place to lose your lunch. There would have to be special equipment to clean it.

Catch the Rainbird

Do you remember your basic geometry? We're learning about triangles right now- eqilateral, isosceles, scalene, and right. We are also learning to make rainbirds. There are some indians in New Mexico that put the image of the rainbird on many of their items of daily use. A rainbird who is "happy" and full of water is made with a right triangle for a body. One who is drinking water is made from an isosceles traingle, and it looks like it's tilted in a downward angle. A "dancing" rainbird is made from a scalene triangle. A full rainbird is equilateral.

The kids made cards from their drawings of rainbirds. Originally, I was thinking we were going to make a mobile from our drawings. The kids held on to theirs while I went back to the computer to make a triangle quiz. I was a bit worried that the test would be too hard because they hadn't had enough study time.

When I went back to the living room they were playing a game like "Go Fish" with their pictures. I heard Josie call it "Catch the Rainbird". Josie was asking Jake for a happy rainbird. He said "which?" She said "the one with the right triangle." And he would pass it too her. Then he'd ask for a dancing one, and she would say "scalene?" and he would say yes.

They didn't even know they were studying. This is homeschooling at its finest.

She Can Afford the Coke and the Rehab

Why can't she afford to get a driver?

You Took the Words Right Out of My Mouth

Jake to Furbie:

"Hey Furbie!"

"Hey Furbie!"

"Hey Furbie!"

"Eh...Looo...."

"Hey Furbie! Tell me a story!"

"Hey Furbie!"

"Eh....Looo..."

"Tell me a story!"

(tick tock....)

"Eh....Looo..."

"HEY FURBIE!"

"Eh....Looo..."

"Hey Furbie!"

"Hey Furbie!"

"Hey Furbie!"

"KILL YOURSELF!"

(I hope that thing doesn't go all Chucky on us in the middle of the night.)

Thought You Might Like to Know....

For clarity, if such a thing exists in my universe, I advise you press "play" and then read.




I've been looking to try out a little parlor guitar with nylon strings. My guitar is very nice and I like it, but I find that I want to capo it at the third fret for everything. I think it's because at that fret my fingers are closer together, and the strings have more tension and they don't get all buzzy.

I went down to Pick n' Grin last Tuesday and found that it was closed. I like Pik n' Grin because it just seems to be staffed with friendly people who like to play instruments. How simple. Suddenly there was a little knot in my stomach. My other choices in my area were Rik's (ugh, as lame as it sounds), and the Guitar Center. You see, I'm a girl. There's not a lot to swing around down there, and that's what you get into at these places. A bunch of guys playing How Big's Your Johnson, and not a lot actually playing music. Humility is a rare thing among those who call themselves musicians, almost as rare as talent. Just 5 minutes in one of those places and you'll hear some punk blasting out the sounds of a cat passing slowly through an undustrial shredder amplified to 11. He's usually got a little entourage of slack jawed mouthbreathers, dreaming of parties and groupies, who think he's Jesus H. Clapton, and want to be sure to stick around for when he hits it big.

A funny thought...there's a lot of young fellers out there who seek to meet chicks by hanging out in places that are full of dudes, doing things for the approval of other dudes, playing songs that, in general, are mainly loved by dudes. What they don't know is that while they are all congregated doing their dude-stuff, all the girls are congregated somewhere else, usually in the company of some guy who's figured it out.

But I digress.

(Don't you think that would be good engraved on my tombstone? I'll live forever though, cause I'll be dying, then I'll forget what I was doing, and get up from the hospital bed and walk out in the hall and go "I know I went in there for something," and if there's no nurse to remind me that I'm supposed to be dying, I'll just go on forever. Kind of like this post.)

Anyway, I hope in 400 hundred years when I'm a blind old bald man who forgot to die, I will be able to play for my friends at least one joyful little arpeggio as beautifully as Andres Segovia did.

....and now you know.

Some Pictures From My Travels

Had to sneak on private property to get this picture.

Big fat cornfed New Harmony squirrel. I didn't zoom in either. He was ready to take me on.

Cute little outhouse on my folks' property.

Their magnificent koi pond.

This is What I Look Like When My Cable's Done Broke

I suffered like a fish out of water for 15 days. Bumming computer time from friends and family for only about five minutes cumulatively. I'm happy to say it's fixed now and that I did live.

More YouTube

Just haven't been very inspired lately, so nothing much to write about. But some Belgians were pretty inspired, and came up with this great commercial. So few words. So much meaning.

Dramatic Chipmunk

Being overly dramatic over and over.




Saw it on Ace O'Spades, put it here. (I have this thing about not saying hat tip. I just don't wear hats, and if I did I would look really stupid tipping one.)

There's an Emu In My Car!

Today we went to Briarwood Ranch Safari Park. It was a blast, but let me say it's not for the faint of heart.


When we first drove in the deer came running up to us. We were delighted that they were so friendly. The baby deer were so cute. Then we got into the woods and more deer ran up to us. The thing is, they wouldn't get their heads out of the door, so you just had to drive until you sort of disattached.


At the next stop the emus poked their heads in, they freaked out Dharma's kids a bit. Then the buffalo came galloping, that's when the children started screaming, pushing emus, and closing doors. I wonder if the safety mechanism on my sliding side door takes into account the necks of captive emus? Good thing I didn't have to find out.

The floor of my car is covered in animal feed. I made the kids promise not to make a mess with it. Well, it really isn't their fault it's messy. If you fall on your butt in a minivan because a zebra is trying to pull a feed bucket out of your hand what can you do?

I was leaning back to take this picture.

Jake was whining after the trip that one of the zebras nipped him on the arm when it was pulling on his shirtsleeves. The man who works the ranch asked him "Do you know any other boys who can say they were nipped by a zebra?" That made my kid pretty proud.

Oh, and the three little pigs were there too. (Awww.)

These Things Happen In Threes

The other day I walked down to my basement to find the floor of the bar area covered in water, and a fast drip coming from the light fixture over the sink. I called hubby home to fix it. It wasn't a problem with the pipes. It was ADD on the part of our youngest who thought it would be okay to fill his bathtub up to the rim, sending water over that little round thing, down through the floor to the ceiling of the basement. Now there is a big new chunk of drywall to patch, sand and paint.

The next evening I was reading a book to the kids in bed when I was overcome with how hot the room was getting. The kids were glistening a bit too. So I leaned down by the register and put my face over it. No air. So I called hubby to come look at it. He went downstairs and checked. AC was broken. So we're very hot right now while we wait for the pros to come and replace the motor and the other doohicky. On the plus side, my eyeliner has been going on very smoothly for the past two days. On the minus side, I sweat it off in the first few minutes of wear. I know, I'm such a girl.

Last night our boy got locked outside. He was pushing and pushing on the front door. He called to me through his open window to let him in. I wondered who could have locked it behind him. When I opened it, I saw that the door handle had finally broken. Which is really a good thing, since it was sticking, and corroded, and I'm not too fond of brass.

So it's all over right?

( One more house problem and I'm calling Dharma to come and Feng Shui it again.)

Some Domestic Advice

Make sure you regularly inspect your canister vacs. Especially if they are very expensive.This here is my excellent Miele vacuum cleaner. I got my vacuum before I got my dog. My vacuum used to suck in a good way. The way vacuums are supposed to suck. Since I got my dog, my vacuum has been sucking in a bad way. I would go over the floor thoroughly, then walk a little down the basement stairs where my eyes would be on floor level. I would still see a fine carpet of white hair. I would go over the whole house and still find pet hair in the corners a couple of hours after vacuuming. I thought my dog was just a never ending shed machine. And she is really. But she would have to be going into corners and intentionally dropping hair for it to accumulate that fast. I could see my cat doing that, but not my dog.

Anyway, today I was in the laundry room with my trusty Miele turned all the way up to 1200, and it was kicking kitty litter at me, and pushing hair into the rug. If you know how expensive these canister vacs are, you would know how hopeless this made me feel. So I took her apart. I cleaned the brushes of strings and such, and made sure nothing was stuck in the handle end. Then I looked down the long metal tube.

There was no light coming through.

So I stuck my finger in, and it felt all soft, and kind of fuzzy. So I turned it around and looked in the other end. I went to the closet and got out a long dowel rod and pushed it through the tube slowly. Oh! A little clump of hair! So I blew in it. With some force, about three meters of compact dog hair in the shape of a long cylinder came out the other end.

Now my vacuum sucks in a good way again.

All Touching is Bad Bad Bad

I've got a long haul ahead of me teaching my children to know what is appropriate. Lot's of parents with aspie kids have this problem to deal with, and spend a lot of time telling them when it is appropriate to touch. We want them not to be over affectionate, or severely withdrawn. I contend that neurotypical kids know right from wrong when it comes to getting physical in public. I'm talking about fighting too.

Well, some school teachers in Fairfax County Virginia don't think kids have the ability to function within society's boundaries, they've solved the whole problem for us. No touching at all!

One administrator complained of the gang handshakes and the kids who rapped each other's knuckles until they were bloody. Well I don't think if you eliminate gang sign handshakes, you'll eliminate the gang problem. And the bloody knuckles belong to the kids who played the game. Why is that the school's problem? Let them play the game, just make sure they get to class on time.

You can't raise any child well, much less one who has social difficulties if the rules don't make sense in greater society. I don't want to raise mine in a bubble, or a prison, or a factory. I wonder what kind of rebellion we will see coming out of these repressively coddling arbitrary rules.

I think I'll go downstairs and watch Equilibrium.

Whoops. I want to touch Christian Bale a bit. Now that's bad bad bad.

MONCHICHI!

Oh this is getting crazy. This one's for Anna.

Monchichi Monchichi
Oh so soft an cuddly
Put her thumb in her mouth she's really neat
Love to cuddle those little feet
Mow Mow Mow
Mow Mow Mow
Happy Happy Monchichi!

Well You Know My Name is Simon

I used to watch this one on Pinwheel too. I told my hubby that I remember thinking that I recognized Simon from a much earlier pre-Pinwheel time in my life. He's older than me, and he remembers Simon from Captain Kangaroo.

I still sing this song whenever I see a guy with big shorts and chicken legs.

I Found Chapi and Chapo!

There was this little song. I sing it to myself not knowing what it means. I connected it to two colorful claymation characters from my tween years. Years spent watching Pinwheel in the morning, it seemed to last for hours and hours, and MTV in the afternoon. A part of me thought that there was a schizo part of my brain that invented these characters. Well, it wasn't a dream. It was a real weird little show from a long time ago, when kids had long attention spans for really weird stuff. Here they be.

Teacher Terrorism? Part 2

Well, it's not exactly teacher terrorism, but it's right in line with this earlier post.


Tell me, are these kinds of awards going to help the children? I had a friend in middle school who was a very nice girl. She had a lot of problems in school even though she was in gifted and talented programs. Looking back today, I can see that she probably had some attentional issues that caused these academic problems. I really wasn't a very supportive friend to her, but it was always the teachers who seemed to understand her the least. She confided in me once, that her second grade teacher picked her up in front of the class and held her over the garbage can, and asked the other students if she could throw her in the trash. That story kind of stuck with me all these years, and I still hurt for this friend. I can't imagine how it would have felt to actually be her right then. I don't know what is worse: the thought that these teachers who did this to this boy have so little common sense, and still get paid to teach our kids "how to think", or that they have common sense and choose to be sadistic.

BTW, there are plenty of teachers out there that I positively adore. I just don't think these kinds of stories should be ignored.

Thought You Might Like to Know....

That I can be really morbid sometimes.

Here's some good reasons that Knoxville is a great place to live.

There are no Hitlers in Knoxville, but there are two in Nashville.

There's only one Dahmer in Knoxville. Probably a college girl.

Of course there are about 19 Mansons. So the Manson family does live here.

But there are no Gacys.

Are there any serial killers named Johnson? Or Smith? Probably.

I wonder if people with really recognizable serial killer, or bloodthirsty dictator names, consider getting their name changed, and if so, how many have actually done it.

No, I don't have too much time on my hands. I'm just a really quick searcher. Took me 5 minutes to reasearch and write this post. Came up with the questions while I was cleaning the house. This is what happens to me when you give me a mind numbing job like ironing. I desperately look for something else to do, and it's usually not quite as productive.

Just a Flesh Wound

I was just reading this post on no school, just learning, and instead of blogging in his comments section, which I tend to do after a couple of cups of coffee, I thought I'd post my story on my blog.

Last week, me and Josie were at the doctor's office, and he was checking her reflexes. Now this wasn't a pediatrician, but a psychiatrist, and they ask a lot of personal probing questions. I felt fairly confident that I had presented us as the relatively healthy family we are. By no means are we perfect ( who is?), but we're not dysfunctional or anything. You know, I get 45 minutes to stammer that fact out in a myriad of ways to someone I hardly know, when I really should be finding out whether this psychiatrist is familiar with Asperger's and fit to treat my kid, but I digress. Back to the reflexes. He got his little hammer out and straightened out her left arm, palms up, and there on the inside of her forearm was an oval bruise. He asked her where she got it. She replied "My daddy bit me."

Oh sheesh.

You should have seen the look on his face when he turned around.

I know my husband didn't bite her, not in the werewolf sense of the word. There's a lot of roughhousing that goes on around here. Kids get thrown all over the place. After daddy gets home, I go immediately into the kitchen and look for my headphones, because the Screaming and Squealing hour has arrived. There's no safe way to walk through the living room after 5:30 pm, without risk of being knocked on your rear by some blond child being catapulted across the room. I imagine that her arm must have been pretending to be a turkey leg or something, and Daddy must have been chewing on it. I can also imagine that there was a lot of maniacal laughter involved in this, and quite possibly an "Ow!" and a "Sorry sweetie." Who knows.

But I could just see the gears in his head. "No wonder I'm treating this kid for anxiety. Her dad bites her."

Oh sheesh.

Weird Moon

I stayed up late watching a movie tonight, then stumbled up to bed ready to sleep. As soon as my head hit the pillow, bing!. Mental gears turning, rewinding, pausing, replaying. Occasionally, I like to stay up really late and do one of those "flashback episodes" on myself, which isn't really healthy, but my mind gets a sick thrill from playing reruns when my body is trying to sleep.

The dog seemed to be a bit fidgety too. Her toenails were endlessly clicking on the hardwood. She must have had something on her mind as well. So I asked her if she would like to go outside, and I offered to accompany her.

As we passed through the living room on our way to the back door, I grabbed my guitar. This should be novel, I thought. I'll see if I can play this tune without the sheet music, at midnight on the back patio with my dog . The moon was exceedingly bright, I thought it was a full moon, and it seemed friendly enough to sit beneath. The guitar sounded very loud at first there in the dark stillness, so I played very softly. The thing is, playing this particular tune, softly, at midnight, made me think of soundtracks to cheap horror flicks. It was simply too cheerful in a morbid and eerie way, and then the night seemed a bit threatening. Couple that with the dog getting on her hind legs against the chain link fence and growling at the rustling bushes, and suddlenly the hair on the back of my neck was telling me that my dog, my geetar, and my butt needed to get themselves inside.

Now here I am in the basement and the dog's sniffing around as if she'd never seen the place before. We're back where we started, only now my brain is writing scary movie screenplays.

Bohemian Rhapsody On Classical Guitar

There's a really excellent guitarist named Edgar Cruz who plays and teaches a lot of these great classic rock opera songs on guitar. There are two videos by Cruz, but one of them has a lot of infuriating crowd noise in the background (why come to a concert if you're going to talk the whole time?) This is a cut up version, where Cruz includes some instruction.



If I start learning it today, and you stick around until I'm about 70, maybe I'll play it for you, no?

What We Did This Year

I figure I need to post something about what we did this year since much of the point of this blog is to keep a journal of what we've done school-wise.

I advanced the kids up a grade last week, so now Josie is in the fourth grade and Jake is in the third. They are still doing the same schoolwork. Jake is young for his grade, but he has moved up to fourth grade math. He is an "A" student in math as well and that makes me very proud. We haven't used a math curriculum this year, we have just bought a few math workbooks and when they finish one for their grade, they move up to the next.

They both started gymnastics last month, which was a big milestone for Josie, since I haven't had her in any type of class situation since taking her out of school last year. She has a very patient coach, and is learning little by little some of the social rules that go along with taking a gymnastics class. Jake is practicing his handstands every day trying to see how many seconds he can stay upside down. I like that he's set himself these goals. That's a real little-boy thing after all.

They have two notebooks each that are full of schoolwork that we started in on around January. We signed up with Oak Meadow School and that got us jump started. Every day we read a story or a fable or something from history and they draw a picture and practice their cursive writing with a brief summary of what they have drawn.

We also have learned about the Babylonians, the Phoenecians, the Romans and Greeks, the Assyrians, the Spartans, ancient Egyptians, and the Jews and their nomadic travels. We have a large timeline made of foam core board that we label with major events and people after reading a chapter from our favorite little history book.

We've read so many books this year. Together we read Alice in Wonderland, Despreaux, The Higher Power of Lucky, and we're currently reading The Wind in the Willows. We have also read about 25 fables since January, and the Just So Stories by Rudyard Kipling. Josie has read everything I could get her by Roald Dahl, and Jake has read most of those too. Once I'm unbanned from the library (darn those hidden pockets in backpacks!), I'll begin to get some audio books for the car.

This year we went to the Human Body Exhibit in Atlanta, missed the shuttle launch in December, but it still counts, visited the nursing home at Christmas time to pass out cards and sing songs, went to Safari Adventure in Pigeon Forge, recently we visited Liles Acres, a really neat little farm in Maryville with llamas and chickens and organic gardens. We've done countless other little trips too.

The major thing we did this year was join a homeschool co-op. The kids have made some great friends and so have I. If I hadn't met all of these great folks, I might not be the confident homeschooler I am right now. I have gotten so much support and so many ideas from them. Most of all, I've gotten the comfort of knowing I'm doing the right thing, by hearing about their trials and triumphs, by seeing how well their children are doing, and laughing together about the things our kids do, when at one time many of us were consumed by worry.

Keeping this blog has helped me as well. Whenever I feel like we've slumped out, I can look back and see how busy we have been, and how much has been accomplished this year. I can safely say I'm proud of myself and truly proud of my kids, and blessed to be able to take this responsibility to help them grow and learn.

Spelling Bee

We watched the spelling bee last night with the kids. We enjoyed it. The best part for me was listening to Josie come up with all kinds of hypotheses on how these kids managed to spell these words.

"I figured it out! They can see the bottom of the screen!"

When I explained that the word printed on the bottom of the screen was broadcast only to the TV audience, she thought about it a bit.

"Well, they have special powers!"

I asked her if she really believed that it was more likely that these kids had psychic abilities, than that they were simply brilliant spellers.

She preferred the "psychic powers" scenario.

Yay, Roller Derby

I want some of my peeps to see this too. Maybe my folks will want to go when the roller girls are in Louisville, or Nashville.




Hat Tip to no school just learning. Of course.

Crybaby

Jake has been called a crybaby a time or two. He's very sensitive, and likes everyone to know about it.

Tonight he was playing a dangerous game involving a cardboard box and a screwdriver. It's a knife throwing exercise Dad taught him. Delightful. Anyway, he comes in this evening to tell us he got hurt and he didn't even cry. He's walking around trying to find us, and we meander around trying to find him. We followed the trail of trickling blood to the living room where he was apparently going in order to rest on the couch. Ray directed him to the bathroom, while I cleaned all of the spots off of the (thank God) hardwood floor.

I came in to see how he was doing in the bathroom.

"Dad, the screwdriver bounced off my toe, then it stuck in the ground."

"Yeah son, it looks like it bounced off the bone."

"Really?" (nervous giggle).

"Yeah."

This weekend Jake drove a boat and injured himself being irresponsible with a sharp object.
I'm a bit sick at my stomach, but otherwise very very proud.

Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished. ~Lao Tzu

Even when all seems lost, never give up.

From Ace O'Spades.

Just the Two of Us

Yesterday was my one year blogiversary. It was also the day I planned on celebrating my one year homeschooliversary. I was planning something monumental, something to show how much I cared. Then I had a stressful and long day. Then I thought I might just note it before I went to bed last night. Anyhow it passed without fanfare, and I'm mad at myself.

I've apologized over and over. But I'm still giving myself the silent treatment. I've tried chocolates and flowers but I still am giving myself the cold shoulder. I promised myself I would make it up with a really excellent belated post. Myself is warming up to the idea.

Relationships are hard work, people.

"Was I Good Today, Mama?"

Today we went to the park to meet with the other homeschoolers. It's an every Wednesday thing that we enjoy. My friend Dharma came along with her two girls Rain and Autumn, and the weather was warm enough for swimming, so everyone wore their bathing suits.

The kids were eager to get in the water, so after slapping the sunscreen on, they ran right in. The three girls decided it was great fun to have a mud fight and got plenty dirty before swimming around. Jake was doing his thing, splashing around with some friends made on the spot, then coming ashore to show them his hand stand technique.

I was talking to the other parents, minding my own business, when I notice a concerned expression on Dharma's face. She's looking out into the water as if she's trying to hear something. I notice a small group of kids crowding around this hulking girl that is "all up in" my daughter's face. I watch Josie, craning her neck, but not stepping back, say with a great big grin "You're twelve?! My cousin is twelve too!" I didn't hear exactly what the hulking girl was saying, but she was wagging her neck around, and I could hear her mocking Josie's voice, still standing in this aggressive pose. Soon my kid, still grinning, swims a little bit away to play by the ropes. After that, I could see the bully talking to the little gaggle of kids behind her, saying stuff about my kid that I can't even remember through the red that was forming in front of my eyes. I could tell she was showing off for the littler kids who seemed to look up to her. I noticed Rain and Autumn were facing this girl, I couldn't hear what they said. I gathered they were attempting to stick up for Josie in front of this intimidating little crowd. Next I heard the hulky girl say "She's your friend?! How can you stand her? She's such a brat!"

I decided to let the circle of Josie-haters know that I was there and could hear what they were saying. A littler girl yelled out to me "That girl threw mud in her hair!" pointing to Hulky. I told the kids, as if they would really give a shit, "she wanted to play with you, it's a game for her, she didn't know she was being mean." (I understood that having mud thrown in your hair could be disconcerting, and may warrant a bit of chewing out, but this girl was going for the Oscar and it was getting out of hand. Add to that the kind of chuckling by the smaller kids that comes along with someone sharing a naughty secret, and my sympathies disappeared.)

I call Josie in to talk to her. I ask her if she could tell that that girl was angry and wanted to fight her. My child told me "no". She was surprised to hear this information. I explained how you can't start a mudfight with total strangers, and you should never start one without asking permission. She was clear and went back out to swim after having a sandwich.

I asked the homeschoolers I was with if they ever wanted to throttle someone else's child, and if I was a total jerk for wanting to go out there and commence to some mighty spanking. One of the parents told me a story about how he told a girl to never come back to his girl scout troop. I asked him why, and he began telling me about her behaviors. It sounded to me as if this girl may have had ADHD or some spectrum thing going on. I asked him if he thought she was a normally developing child, or if she was neurotypical. He looked at me as if I was bonkers. I shouldn't have asked in the first place, I know.

Back out in the water, another drama was unfolding. A boy was paddling a boat full of kids, Rain and Autumn included, round and round the swimming area. Josie cried out for them to wait for her. He began paddling faster. She managed to catch up. After a great struggle, with him still paddling for dear life, she managed to get on. The paddling boy yelled for all the kids to jump out when Josie got in.

I wanted to take her out of there now.

I got all of our stuff gathered up and yelled for the kids to come on. We were going back to Dharma's house to swim there, so I took Rain and Autumn along in the new minivan so they could try it out. Rain said "Everyone was calling Josie a weirdo out there." I said "I saw you sticking up for her, Rain. You're a good friend." I drove on a little lump in my throat.

Josie seemed totally oblivious to all that had gone on there. Naturally. This misunderstanding of facial expressions, and social interaction, and not knowing when you're being teased or rejected is a common aspie trait. She just went on and on about the dachsund she played with, and the baby bird hopping around the park, and a myriad of other delightful subjects, as we drove.

Everything went well at our friends' house, and we came home around 5 o' clock. When we saw Dad, I told him we went to the park and then we swam at Dharma's.

Josie stood in the living room shivering a bit in her bathing suit, and turned to me with her big eyes, and an expectant smile. She had her hands clasped under her chin and her shoulders up. "Was I good today, Mama?"

"Yes, baby, you were good today."

Ewww. Diving Beetle!

This cute little guy is called a diving beetle, but he's also called a water tiger. They feed on tadpoles among other things. Josie found him swimming around in the shallow water on top of a pool cover surrounded by tadpoles. She named him Spike. I'd like to call him Hurley, Ralph, or Chuck. He's living in my house. I won't be sleeping well tonight.

Social Skills, Asperger's, and Homeschooling

I just read something about Asperger's kids that I'd like to share, it's a major reason why I've chosen to homeschool, and decided to ignore the advice of the developmental psychologist who told me she needed to go to school for the socialization.

From Parenting Your Asperger Child by Alan Sohn Ed.d, and Cathy Grayson, M.A.

"Schools tend to focus on academics. Many Asperger children have fairly well-developed academic skills. It will be the cognitive, behavioral, social, and emotional issues that will be the most important ones for your child to learn. You will be your child's most important teacher because you spend more time with him than anyone else and, also, because he needs to demonstrate the appropriate skills in the real world, not just in a classroom."


My first question about this quote is, does a child in school really spend more time with his parent than anyone else? You factor in the time you spend rushing your kid off in the morning, about an hour, not really quality time either. After you pick them up, she needs a bit of time to decompress, play a game on the computer for an hour. After that, you talk to her about the phone call you recieved from the principal and explain to them how it's innapropriate to pretend you're a barn swallow during math or some such thing, then she has homework you can both cry over. After that is dinner. After dinner, Dad wants to play with the kids, as he should. Story time. Bed time.

My second question is, what's more important to my child's life, the classroom, or the real world? Is a classroom even marginally close to the experiences of real life? In the real world she is confronted with more choices, but also allowed more choices. She meets people of all ages and goes everywhere I go, the grocery store, the homeschool co-op, the roller derby....In the real world, she's not under a microscope and can develop coping mechanisms without being overly-traumatized at the same time.

And is a classroom a very good place to address the most important "behavioral, social, and emotional issues", or does the classroom environment just exacerbate the problem with social skills?

I sent her to school on the advice of an otherwise really great developmental psychologist. I thought I was finally doing what was right. What I didn't know was that the child spent the whole day at school performing innapropriate behaviors that the teachers had no time to address, or didn't observe. Other children spent a good deal of time being entertained or bothered by her behaviors, or teasing her. And two months later at a meeting with the principal and the 5 others (teachers, nurse, administrators, and a psychologist), I find out about 15 other major incidents that they saved up just for this meeting instead of calling me about them that day. All the opportunities to educate the child in social skills were neglected in that time and the anxiety and behavior become worse and worse, and the her reputation suffers. Did you know in my daughter's public school last year they waited a month to tell me about my her removing her clothing in the cafeteria? And that they blamed her for this incident instead of the kid who told her it was fun and okay to do it? It was clear my kid was not in full possession of her faculties. I should have taken her out of school the moment I heard that story. My bad.

Anyway, why spend 12 years teaching a child with a social disability how to survive in a school environment, only to later have to teach them how to live in the real world? Why not teach them how to live in the real world first and introduce them to the idea of school when they are old enough to go to college and have a handle on what to do with their life? I would say a young adult with asperger's is more likely to find comfortable social groups at a technical college, a group of D & D geeks, or in the AV club, when they are older, without all the baggage of being an outcast in public school growing up.

Homeschooling my child has allowed me to introduce her to situations more slowly and tackle social and behavioral issues when I see them. I can tailor a program just for her to help her navigate the real world. I know the kids she plays with, and the parents understand the situation, many of them are dealing with similar issues in their children as well.

So now we're part of a co-op and developed a small group of friends, and we're in gymnastics, and she's beginning to get educated not only in balance and coordination, but personal space, interrupting, and volume control. We've begun to do a lot more schoolwork with a lot less tears, but it's because I really have decided to devote my time to my child and am blessed to have the means to do so. I really do spend more time with her than anyone else, and I am her most important teacher. Little by little things will get better, and poor behaviors will be replaced with new appropriate ones, and I will hold her hand less and less. One day she will grow up and disconnect from me, and leave the nest.

It's funny to me how this has come around to a bird metaphor, because she's in love with birds, and believes she will find a way to fly someday. She'll have to fall a little more than the others, and I'll have to be there to pick her up more than most moms, but she will fly, because I am here with her on her journey, and am able and willing to teach her how to navigate the world with a more positive outlook, and I am here when she needs a place to rest.

Picture Stories for Asperger's Help

I decided to go ahead and try out this picture story thing with my daughter. In gymnastics class this morning, she spent most of the time disturbing the peace. She goes up to eleven, you see, and everyone has to hear everything that comes into her head, and they have to hear it as if she's shouting from the rooftops. Kids with Asperger's aren't trying to be disruptive, and aren't acting out to get attention. They simply don't understand the unspoken rules of behavior and communication. I suffer from the affliction of believing that since my kid is no dummy, that she should know these rules from me telling them to her. You should hear me. At least 10 times before the class today I had to go to her and say "Your volume, Josie." Maybe someday she'll come back at me with "Your valium, mommy." Ha. Well, anyway, the thing about Asperger's is that these kids are incapable of learning social rules simply by hearing them. They have to be convinced, and they have to know "why". That's where my little pictures come in.



I explained the scientific theories of sound waves and interference by drawing out a picture of her gymnastics class. I indicated Josie's sound waves as she was interrupting her teacher, Brian. I showed his sound waves colliding with hers. I made sure to show exasperated expressions on the other girls' faces. She watched as I drew and I explained how the girls were hearing his sound waves mixed up with hers, and how they couldn't learn when this happened. I asked her to tell me which character on the page was the "expert". She told me it was Brian. I asked her who was more important for the girls to hear. She beamed at me and said "Brian!"


Then I drew this next picture of a class full of girls that listen to their teacher. I asked Josie to tell me why they were smiling. She said "cause they can hear". I asked her what they learned. She said "gymnastics". Then I drew little muscles on their arms and showed her how they all got strong. After that I drew her teacher with a little tear on his cheek because he was so proud of his students. I told her he was dreaming that they would go to the Olympics. She enjoyed this whole exercise immensly, and I thought I saw a little lightbulb. Maybe that's just me dreaming.

I also told her that if she could be quiet for at least 15 minutes of her class next week, she would get extra computer time.

This is an unscientific study, folks. We'll see how she does. Of course I won't know if it was the picture story or the computer bribe that helped if things go well next week, but if it works I'm willing to make it my new Pavlovian habit, right up there with my nine year habit of talking my head off to a kid who doesn't get it.

They're National News Now

Fred Phelps and his fellow troglodytes have crawled out from under their rock, and will be protesting at Jerry Falwell's funeral. I think it will be good for them to get some national attention, maybe someone will finally lose their patience with this kind of crap. I think a law against protesting at funerals wouldn't infringe unduly on anyone's rights.

Another New Favorite Thing

OMG! I have wanted to say this so many times! Here's a website called Shut Up About Your Perfect Kid. I'll have to submit a story someday. I've got a whole mess of them.

Teacher Terrorism

Just another reason I'm glad I'm taking responsibility for my kids' education. Apparently some jackass schoolteachers in our great state of Tennessee thought it would be a dandy idea to subject children to the horrifying experience of being taken hostage by gun wielding black-hooded bandits. Oh how fun! You might worry that your children could come home from an overnight school camping trip with a tick or two, but not with post-traumatic stress disorder.

I'd sue the shit out of them if they did that to my kids, and after I was done with that, I'd make sure these guys bought some adult diapers because I'd use my lawsuit proceeds to hire people with toy guns to pop out of the bushes and from behind alleys wherever these asshats dared to venture. Of course, I'd probably get arrested for that, not just suspended for two weeks.

My New Most Favorite Thing

I bought this little gem at a used curriculum sale for one dollar. "So what?" you say, but if you look it up on Amazon, you'll find that it is not easy to get, and if you can find it, it's usually sold for an exhorbitant price. Why is this book my New Most Favorite Thing? Because it is so delightfully un-P.C.

It was written in the early 20th century, soon after World War I, by the headmaster of Calvert School, who from their founding have provided missionary homeschoolers with curriculum. That's not the reason I like the book though. I'm not a Bob Jones type Christian Homeschooler. I'm more of a Regular Joe homeschooler, which I fear is pretty rare. I tire easily of radical points of view. I'm just as put off by the "never sit your child down and make them read a book" radical unschooling philosophy, as I am by the "never let your child even entertain the thought that the world is older than 6000 years" radical Christian philosophy. I find them unreasonable. I don't like unreasonable things.

I think this book knows for whom it was written, and is painfully unaware of how unfairly it's innocent little viewpoints would be viewed almost 100 years later by an audience nearly suffocating on Orwellian new speak. It was quite a reasonable book for its time, and if our present society wasn't so brainwashed into stupifying moderation by it's fear of offending the too easily offended, and if our present society hadn't lost it's sense of humor because of these fears, it would be a reasonable little book for children today.

My little book would be on trial today for it's patriotic nationalism:

"but the Jews wanted a real king as their enemies had and other nations who were their neighbors. Strange they wanted a king which so many countries have tried to get rid of--we should think they would have preferred a President as we have."

My little book would be on trial today for its apparent bigotry:

"We don't know how nor when nor where colored people first lived, though it is interesting to guess."

and

"If your name is Henry of Charles or William, you are probably an Aryan. If it is Moses or Solomon, you are probably a Semite. If it is Shufu or Rameses, you are probably a Hamite."

(I do discuss these ideas with my children. Interesting about the "colored people" remark- this is not a Young Earth book. It talks about the Big Bang theory, and Neolithic man. It's strange to me that the author wouldn't entertain the thought that primitive man emerged in Africa as well as the Middle Eastern regions. So I did discuss this apparent ignorance with my kids.)

My little book would be on trial today for viewing history from a Christian perspective:

"The Greeks believed in many gods, not in one God as we do and the Jews did, and their gods were more like people in fairy-tales than like divine beings. Many beautiful statues have been made of their different gods, and poems and stories have been written about them."

I do appreciate how the author addresses the children with the assumption that they are Christian and yet allows them to truly delight in learning about other religious beliefs in a light-hearted way. Chuckling was allowed, without fear of being branded a bigot. It was okay to have a point of view, and find other's points of view strange, new, and intriguing, make a judgement on it, and perhaps get a laugh. Today if an educator said some of these things he would be sent off to reprogramming. If certain points of view are repressed and censored, how do we have dialogue and debate?

My little book might have gotten called archaic and gotten relegated to some out-of-print section on Amazon, and that is sad because so many children wouldn't get to read gems like this:

Chapter 41

Nightfall

It was 500 o' Clock by History Time.
Night was coming on.
The Dark Ages had begun.
At least, that is what people call it now. But people didn't call it so then.
Crazy people don't think they are crazy.
Ignorant people don't think they are ignorant.
So the Dark Ages didn't think they were dark.

Or this:

"Well we have now reached the seventh century--the six hundreds, and we are to hear of a man who to make a change in the whole world. he was neither a Roman nor a Greek nor a Frank nor a Goth nor a Briton. He was neither a king nor a general, but only a ---
What do you suppose?
A CAMEL-DRIVER!
And he lived in a little town called Mecca in far-off Arabia. His name was Mohammed. Mohammed went on an errand for a wealthy Arabian lady, and the lady fell in love with him. although he was a poor camel-driver and only a servant and she was rich, they were married."

The author goes on the write about Mohammed's vision of the angel Gabriel and how muslims pray, how Islam grew. He paints a pretty picture, but he is also honest about how eventually people were being converted by the sword.

"But very soon they began to force others to become Moslems whether they wanted to or not. Like the highway robber that says 'Money or your life,' they gave every one a choice. 'Money or your life, or be a Moslem!' This may seem a strange way for people to make others believe their religion, but the Moslems said that Allah wanted all people to be Mohammedans, and didn't want anyone who was not."

Hillyer tells about their defeat in France, but shows that in 110 years they had gone from a vision to a religion that "had conquered and converted the whole of the country bordering from the Mediterranean from Constantinople all the way round the southern edge and as far up into France as Tours."

This headmaster really does seem to tell the Whole History of the World as we know it, from Ramesis to Catherine the Great, from the Babylonians to the American Revolution. He includes great scientists, discoverers, musicians, revolutionaries, villians and heroes. And he ends his book with a warning about war:

Someday man...will invent something a million times more powerful than gunpowder or dynamite--something so explosive that when discovered by some Mr. Swartz it will blow him, his house, his town, his country, and the whole world to kingdom come--and that will be the end of this little spark off the sun."

and an image that gets me choked up:

"Perhaps you looked through a microscope at what seem to be wars between germs. As germs might look up at the eye of the microscope through which we watch their life and death struggles, and wonder what is up above on the other side looking down at them, so we may look up at the the blue eye of heaven above us and wonder what all-seeing, all-knowing, all-powerful being up there is watching our own life-and-death struggles here below.
Our little world, which seems so immense to us, is really only a tiny speck, only one of countless other specks floating in space; it is like one of the tiny motes which you may see any time in a sunbeam that shines in at the window. Who has an eye so keen that he can count the moving motes in such a beam of light? Who would miss one such grain of dust if it should disappear? So this grain of dust we call the World and all of us who live upon it could vanish without ever being noticed!
This story ends here, but only for the present, for history is a continued story and will never end."


This is a book for kids, and I have learned so much more from it, than I ever learned in my college world history class, and in such an entertaining and enlightening way, that I can't put it down. I'm jealous that I didn't get this opportunity in elementary school.

I forgive my little book for it's lack of sensitivity and it's cultural bias. It's sparked in me a love of history that I wouldn't have otherwise known, given my children something to talk about and investigate with wonder.

More Letters to Soldiers

Josie didn't know what to say, so I told her it was okay to write that. Most of us struggle with what to say to other people, but this is especially hard for her since lack of conversational skills is pretty much the hallmark of Asperger's Syndrome. She still writes awfully cute letters.

Once again, my boy is astounding me with his handwriting. It's so important for him to be closely supervised. When I am not around to check him, he will just wander off or make a mess of his work, but when I am there attending to him, he really excels.

Bjork and Kitties in a Blender.

So well done.

Get the Smelling Salts!

So someone splashes paint on a billboard featuring "El Rushbo", and a city "official" (the guy in charge of cleaning said billboard) gets a chuckle out of it, and let's somebody know, and 200,000 people get the vapors. I know Sanity's dead, but would everyone stop being a bunch of Scarlet O' Hara's for goodness sake?! There are real wars and conflicts to worry about. And if you're not worried about them, then shut up and get a freaking beer and find a game to watch already.

Keith Henson Hates Scientologists....

which earns him 6 months in jail in California.

For "Threatening a Religion".

Fred Phelps says "God Hates Fags" and protests at military funerals.

And gets serenaded by the sound of crickets.

Can we get it over with and declare Sanity dead now?

I'd Like to be a Good Cook.

If anyone consistently liked what I made. And if I ever thought up a meal more than ten minutes before it was supposed to be done.

You Are a Learning Cook

You've got the makings of an excellent cook, and the desire to be one. But right now, you're just lacking the experience. You couldn't be a top chef yet, but you could be an apprentice.

Are You A Good Cook?

Me. Jupiter.

You Are From Jupiter

You are exuberantly curious - and you love to explore newness. Enthusiastic and optimistic, you get a kick out of stimulating intellectual discussions. Foreign cultures and languages fascinate you. You love the outdoors, animals, and freedom. Chances are you tend to exaggerate, so try to keep a lid on that. If you do, you'll continue to be known for your confidence, generosity, and sense of justice.

What Planet Are You From?

I passed. Did you?

You Passed 8th Grade Math

Congratulations, you got 7/10 correct!

Could You Pass 8th Grade Math?

Whom Will I Disappoint? Whom Will I Please? Whom Cares?

Your Political Profile:

Overall: 60% Conservative, 40% Liberal Social Issues: 50% Conservative, 50% Liberal Personal Responsibility: 50% Conservative, 50% Liberal Fiscal Issues: 75% Conservative, 25% Liberal Ethics: 50% Conservative, 50% Liberal Defense and Crime: 75% Conservative, 25% Liberal

How Liberal Or Conservative Are You?

The questions were sort of leading and limiting. I do think that abortion is wrong since it really kills somebody, and a woman could make something good out of a trauma by giving some childless parents a baby to adopt, but I think making abortion illegal across the board is extreme. I think a company's main responsibility is to it's shareholders, but any entity that has that much power has a great opportunity to do some good in the world, and I wish they would. I think social security is fine, but it would be awful nice to give people the choice to opt out. I think gay people should be able to do whatever they want, but they need to be careful in trusting any government to recognize their marriages on paper. What if the country makes a radical turn for the worse? Should anyone need or want government permission to marry anyway? As far as affirmative action and the like, I don't think anybody deserves "special" status above and beyond their inalienable rights to succeed or fail just like anyone else. Maybe it's the optimist in me, but if Maya Angelou or Oprah could make it with all the trouble they faced in their lives, anybody could. They're not godesses, just people. I think the death penalty is a good thing and should be used more often for child pornographers and abusers, rapists, and torturers. So there.

From Zenari. Now to see if I pass 8th grade math, what planet I am, and whether I am a good cook.

Spoon-Bending

At first I was skeptical, and when I watched the beginning of the video he just had "Fraud" written all over him. But he really does it. If it's not paranormal, maybe it's one of those quantum physics things we just don't understand.

Please Tell Me I'm Not a Tuna Sandwich!

Maybe I didn't answer the questions right because I hate to stop what I'm doing to eat. It's a pain in the butt to find something creative to eat. Usually, I get an apple, then some crackers, then a water, then I decide it's time to eat something real. Usually that is wrapping some bread around some peanut butter. Can I get back to whatever it was that was more important than sustenance now?

You Are a Tuna Fish Sandwich

Some people just don't have a taste for you. You are highly unusual. And admit it, you've developed some pretty weird habits over the years. You may seem a bit unsavory from a distance, but anyone who gives you a chance is hooked! Your best friend: The Club Sandwich Your mortal enemy: The Turkey Sandwich

What Kind of Sandwich Are You?

A Curse and a Blessing (or Thought You Might Like to Know Part 3)

It's both a curse and a blessing that eyebrows grow back. If you have two fighting caterpillars above your eyes that would make a Russian dictator squirm, then it's a curse. If you have a kid who got a bit curious with the razor, then it's a blessing.