Friday, March 25, 2011

On labels


I like Blogger's commenting system. I like Wordpress' system on Wordpress pages that doesn't require you to have a Wordpress account to comment. I don't want to sign up for an account with yet another system just to leave a comment. I have enough user names and passwords to keep track of already. Yes, my computer remembers them for me—most of the time. There's always an exception, and since it has been filling in a password for me, when it drops the ball, I've completely forgotten what the password was.

Open ID is okay, usually, I guess. It makes me jump through a few easy hoops, but then generally lets me comment. I really wish people would use Blogger or Wordpress instead. But not the Wordpress that makes you sign in. I hate intensedebate. It makes me jump through more hoops than any of the others, and often still doesn't let me comment. If you use intensedebate as your only commenting system, I won't bother leaving a comment.  

I've seen some blogs with their own domain names use a commenting system similar to Wordpress: enter your name, email address (will not be displayed) and web site / blog url (optional). These are fine. As long as your web design is easy on the eyes, your page is quick to load, and your commenting system doesn't present unnecessary barriers to commenting, I don't mind that your have your own domain name, although I think it's overrated. That is all.


Thursday, March 24, 2011

Happy Birthday, Brother Bear

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Do you ever wonder how you could help parents of special-needs kids?

Monday, March 14, 2011


GL has been checking out a reasonable number of DVDs on each trip to the library lately. After he selects his DVDs, if he thinks we don't have enough items waiting for us at the checkout, or sometimes even if he thinks we do, he goes back and selects some books. He prefers books that come in a series. He finds a series on the shelf and checks out the whole thing, regardless of how long it would take him to finish each title. One of his favorite series is the Froggy books by Jonathan London. I think this has something to do with the fact that at some point in every story, Froggy forgets his pants, and someone yells, "Frrooggyy!!!"

So for the next week or two, we'll be hearing a lot about missing pants and random shouts of "Frrooggyy!!!" It could be worse. He could be shouting about Farmer's Nipples.

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Until recently, we bought margarine in three-pound tubs because those were the cheapest per pound. But one day the store was out of the brand we usually buy, so sticks were a better deal. We found the same number of pounds lasted a lot longer. Apparently, GL had been stealthily scooping it out of the tubs with his fingers and eating it!

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Several years ago, I threw out all our wire hangers and replaced them with plastic hangers, because plastic hangers don't tangle.


Sunday, March 6, 2011


I love that my husband always tell me the truth, even when I might not like it. Let me set the scene: It’s the classic “do these pants make my butt look big?” What most women are looking for when they ask this question is reassurance. When they ask this they want their husband to say ”of course not you look great” even if it’s a bald face lie. I want the truth and I get it. One day I asked Papa Bear the butt question & he said ”sorry it’s not the pants” The question really should be “Do these pants make my butt look larger than it really is?” I for one know I have a tush the size of half a VW. I sure don’t want to make it look worse than it is. No one wants to have a Buick butt. Most of the time I don’t ask anymore. My weight loss has not been progressing as fast as I would like. I’ve even begun practicing my own version of “Don’t ask, Don’t tell.” So recently I was surprised when Papa Bear looked at my butt and said “Those do.” I said “do, what?” He replied “those pants do make your butt look big” All I have to say is “Anyone want a pair of dark green jeans?”

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

A Question for Those who want to Ban "The R-Word"

What would you replace it with?

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Tuesday, March 1, 2011

The Dive Bar Welcomes: _______

Jillsmo at Yeah. Good Times has an occasional feature called The Dive Bar where people can send her things they'd like posted, but don't want to post to their own blogs for one reason or another. Today's post hit close to home:
Tuesday, March 1, 2011

I figured rather than saying "Anonymous," I'd be a little more creative. 

Autism is kicking my ass.
Because I hate how relieved I am when the bus shows up in the morning.
Because I hate that my heart starts beating faster when it returns in the afternoon.
Because every day is like walking through a mine field lately.
Because every day I hold my breath, waiting to see if my child will be breaking things or barely holding them together.
Because nothing is helping any more, not one fucking thing.
Because no one is interested in helping anymore either, autism like this isn't so cute.
Because we have been doing this for years and beat to a pulp.
Because we have tried diets and supplements and tested pee and mailed shit samples and been on ever psychiatric medication under the sun and nothing.
Because I always scoffed at those people who let their children go to an inpatient facility.
Because I always thought that would not be us.
Because now, I am painfully, painfully aware of where those people are.
Because now, that desperation and that feeling that autism has taken far too much control and you just can't let it take anymore, that feeling sucks.
Did I say autism is kicking my ass? I take that back. 
It's not just kicking mine, it's trying to knock down my child and for once, I'm out of moves to fight back.
Reprinted with permission from:
 I've been there. For months at a time. Whenever GL's meds stop working. And during those times, we don't know when they'll end, or even if they'll end. Neither does his psychiatrist. I'm not being pessimistic here; anything more optimistic would be lying. We try one med after another, and nothing helps. Some meds make things worse, even though worse seemed inconceivable. Every time so far, we eventually found a med that helped. Things would improve for several months. Then they'd start to decline again, and we'd have to increase his dose. Eventually, the new med wouldn't work at any dose. It's called tachyphylaxis. For GL, it typically takes about a year, but it has been as long as 18 months, and as short as 6. Every time so far, his psychiatrist has been able to find a replacement that works. There's no guarantee that will continue.

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