Pictures came and broke your heart, put the blame on VTR.

That's a lyric from a classic song. And since I'm feeling generous, first person to tell me the name of the song and the artist will win a Georgia prize pack, including a map, a crappy key chain and maybe a snow-globe from Savannah. If I'm feeling really generous I'll find find a copy of the Lady and Son's Cookbook.

First of all, I just want to thank everyone who took the time to comment yesterday. As far as a diagnosis, nothing formal has been done. However, both our previous pediatrician and our current pediatrician had already suggested a possible autism spectrum disorder, with Asperger's at the top of the list. While I'm understandably worried, I'm not really surprised that the school psychologist brought this up, either. TFYO has shown symptoms for quite some time. Eye contact has been the biggest flag. It makes her very uncomfortable, and she gets very anxious if you try to look her in the eye. She has sensory issues as well, whether it's tags on her clothes, people touching her ears, or how some kinds of food feel in her mouth. More than a normal four-year-old. She's also a compulsive counter, and likes to count things like fence posts, and ceiling tiles. Perhaps the Count from Sesame Street was an Aspie! At any rate, she will have a formal evaluation and then will likely have play therapy to help her learn how to interact with her peers. She doesn't have too much trouble with adults, but regular play with other kids is sometimes a challenge for her. But as Jennifer noted in the comments yesterday, by the time she's ready for regular school, she'll be mainstream, and probably just continue to see a therapist once or twice a week.

And I meant to post all of that in the comments last night, but our cable was out for the better chunk of yesterday.

Which led Ray to tell me about when they first got cable in his hometown of Trenton, Ga. I've mentioned his hometown before, it's the county seat of Dade County, located in the northwest corner of the state. Here's some info on Dade. The most interesting thing about Dade County, is that there was no direct road that linked it to the rest of the state until almost 1950. If you wanted to head over to Dalton, you had to drive up into Tennessee, and then back down. Likewise, if you wanted to head to Atlanta, you had to drive southwest into Alabama, and then back into Georgia to get there. The picture is of Cloudland Canyon, right next door to Trenton. Hang gliders love it.

Ray said cable finally came to Trenton when he was about seven or eight years old, so it would have been 1978 or 1979. Some of the local preachers opposed it of course, but it came nonetheless. I don't know how many channels they had, but the local cable access channel was in black in white. And all it showed were little typed hand held placards announcing church events, high school football games, and specials at the local restaurant in town.

Then, just as suddenly as cable came, it went. They had city wide outages within just a couple of weeks of firing it up. No one could figure it out until they went out to check the junction boxes placed around the town.

And they were all shot up.

Someone had been using them for shotgun practice. Now I don't know it was target practice for a fact. It could have been some irate preacher annoyed b y the presence of HBO. This was the town where a local preacher led his flock to the top of the ridge so they could cast their "devil TVs" off the mountain. The eventually had to stop because they local sheriff threatened to fine them for littering, since the people who lived halfway down the hill were tired of finding smashed up televisions in their back yard. They now content themselves with the occasional Harry Potter burning, and stomping of rock CD's.

Finally, they managed to get the boxes all fixed, and presumably newly armoured.

And on the little black and white cable access channel, this placard appeared:

"Dear Trenton,

We apologize for the recent spate of cable outages. Someone has been shooting the cable. We have taken steps to prevent this from happening.

Sincerely,
Trenton Cable Company"

And as far as I know, no one ever shot the cable again.

Friday Five

I really am sorry for not posting yesterday, but it was kind of a rough day. I had every intention of telling you about my cat, the lumberjack, who loves to scale door frames with her massive claws and Popeye-like leg muscles. But I just couldn't. I got to talk to an Effingham County school psychologist yesterday morning. She's been called in to help with my child. Why?


They, and the pediatrician, believe my daughter has Asperger Syndrome.

For those not in the know, Asperbger Syndrome is an autism spectrum disorder, and there's a fairly accurate Wiki write-up here.

Some of the characteristics of Asperger's include inability to grasp social skills, avoiding eye contact, fixation on a specific field or group of things, and a habit of using repetitive motion or language. TFYO meets all of these criteria. Fortunately, she wants to be social, so the army of therapists that are about to become part of our lives have something to work with. We're also told that TFYO is incredibly intelligent, even more than your run-of-the-mill Asperger's patient. The other good thing is that she's being diagnosed early. Many children aren't diagnosed with Asperger Syndrome until they are ten or eleven. Which means early intervention can help TFYO learn coping strategies in social situations.

But she's having trouble dealing with the other kids at school. She has no concept of personal space, and she has a tough time starting conversations, and she really doesn't like looking people in the eye. She also has this hitting thing lately, where when she can 't figure out how to join a group, she just smacks someone on the shoulder.

You probably know an adult with Asperger Syndrome. There are a lot of them working in technology fields, as scientist, or as musicians, or sometimes even professors. Dan Akroyd recently said he was diagnosed with Asperger's as an adult. They probably seem a little quirky, they're a little obsessed with sci-fi, or trains, or...well, any one thing. They have friends, but not large groups of them. And you'll see them at parties, but often in the corner talking to only one or two people. They're normal, but not...quite.

Looking back on my own childhood through the lens of Asperger Syndrome, it makes a lot more sense to me now. My inability to blend in, my obsession with learning, and not always picking up on social cues. I always just thought I was a nerd. Turns out, there was a label for it.

So, today's Friday Five is a bit of a rip off of my new friend Joy T. over at Spot of T. She did a "Thankful Thirteen" last Thursday. So, today's Friday Five is...

Five Things I am Thankful For

1. I am thankful for my child.

Even though she's been given a label that could hold her back, she's bright and funny and smart. And she's mine. I'm thankful I have her to worry about, when so many other people don't have kids or can't have kids.

2. I'm thankful for my husband.

No doubt, like all couples, we've had our ups and downs. But he's always been an awesome father, and he's always tried to be the best husband he can be.

3. I'm thankful for my home.

We moved around a lot when I was a kid. That's nobody's fault, it's just the way it was. I was never so grateful as when I got to own my own home this year. I can paint the walls chartreuse if I want...and TFYO's room is proof of that. I now have a sense of home and belonging.

4. I'm thankful for all the great people I've met so far blogging.

Every single last one of you. Rotten Correspondent, Jo Beaufoix, Mya, WillowTree, Dumdad, JRH, My Two Cents, Bellevelma are the old(er) timers. Mike, Diana, and a few others are recent visitors. And you're all awesome. It's good to know there's a place I can come to regain my sanity, and read about all of your lives.

5. I'm thankful I made that fateful decision to move to Alabama in 1996.

It seemed like madness at the time, and it almost killed me. But if I hadn't, I wouldn't have met Ray, I wouldn't have found my career, and I wouldn't have TFYO. I'm not sure where I would be now, but it can't be better than what I've got.

Okay, there it is. The incredibly maudlin Friday Five. Hopefully you'll forgive the philosophical meanderings, but I just thought it might be nice, on a crappy day, to remember what I'm thankful for. Okay, it's y'alls turn.

What are you thankful for?

Take us forever, a whisper to a scream

With thanks to Icicle Works for the lyric.


There is nothing worse than having a cold when you're pregnant. Except losing your voice when you work in radio. So having both happen at the same time kind of sucks. But it also helps, especially since I couldn't think of anything else to blog about.




Diana over at Piffle recently had a cold and lost her voice. I know I didn't catch it from her (that would be a great trick!), but I certainly feel even more sympathy for her now.


Why is it that everyone in the world wants to call your phone when you have no voice? I started out with a squeak this morning, but by the time I got done talking to family, friends, people at work wondering where I was...I was left with a whisper. And people were asking me what was wrong with my voice.


And I've discovered that both children and animals know that this is a weakness and go out of their way to do things they shouldn't do, because how threatening is a woman in her bunny slippers screaming in a whisper?


Cat scratches the sofa (again).


"Zoe, knock that off!" She looks at me quizzically, and picks just a couple more times at an errant thread to see if I'm serious. And then I find myself whispering, "Damn it, your hearing is better than mine! I know you heard me!" Normally, she'll take off and run around the house like a mad cat when I scold her for clawing the furniture when she has not one, but TWO perfectly good scratching posts. Today, I got a slow blink, a yawn and a stretch, and a casual saunter into my bedroom. You think they've settled in?


TFYO yesterday afternoon.


I'm trying to sort out dinner and her homework and trying to clear the detritus that inevitably collects on our kitchen table. And she immediately runs back to the office and hops on the computer for her favourite activity of typing random words in Notepad, which she knows she is not supposed to do without permission.


"TFYO! Get off the computer, you know you're not supposed to be on there!"

At least, that's what I meant to say. It came out more like "Hiss, hisss, scrtich, hiss, damn it, ow!"

She can't hear me, and my husband chuckles quietly.

They're all against me.


I think I may resort to writing in LARGE letters with a Sharpie marker on brightly coloured index cards. It would make for great conversation. Kind of like Wile E. Coyote. Given the way the last couple of days have gone, I'd probably be using "Yipe!" "Help!" and "Suuuuuuper Genius", a lot. I'd also have one for "Vanilla Chai please", "No, I don't know what happened to that production order" and "Can I please just go to the bathroom by myself for once".

For a person like me who talks for a living, this is murder. It's torture. It's...it's...listening to Britney Spears.

Shock the Monkey

Lyric courtesy of Peter Gabriel.

There were a lot of things that shocked me about my move to the south eleven years ago. The aforementioned sweet tea, the fact that everybody in Alabama moved sooooo slowly, and that there seemed to be so many people living in trailers. But nothing prepared me for a trip to the drugstore one day.

It wasn't too long after I'd made the move to Tuscaloosa from Kalamazoo, and I was still finding my way around town. I'd stopped in at a drugstore to buy some things, and while I was ruminating over more shine vs more body, this older white lady came up to me.

"Hey, let me ask you something."

I have since discovered in the south that when someone asks you this question, your best response is to run. Why? Well, because they don't really want to ask you something, they're just in a mood to spout off about something that's bothering them. But I was barely 21 years old, and still a newbie, so I had no idea what this woman wanted.

"Um, alright, go ahead and ask?"

"Why do you suppose they have to have two whole aisles of products for black people?"

And, no she didn't say black people, she used the N-word, and I'm not going to use it here. Cue record scratching in my head.

"Say what?"

"I mean, look at all that crap. What do they need it for? They too good to use our soap and shampoo? Or maybe they's just too dirty?" And this point she let out a raspy chuckle that sounded like a carton of cigarettes.

So, I decided to answer her question.

"Well, now you know, you got a whole store full of products for you white folks. I guess it's only fair we get a couple of aisles to ourselves."

"Do what now?"

"Well, I mean, I never much had this problem with my hair being the way that it is, but my Dad's white. But my momma, she always had a tough time finding stuff to use on her hair after she'd had the hot combs through it. Her hair was so coarse, and once it's straightened, it can break so easily. And most of the regular soaps she used left her skin all ashy. I know she loves the Queen Helene line, 'cause it's got cocoa butter in it. So, I guess it's nice that they've got a few products here. Up in Detroit, where I'm from, they've got whole stores. Makes it so much more convenient."

And I walked away.

Now, most of you are probably aware my mom is not black. But that summer, my hair was dark, and I was pretty tan from being outside. And that stupid old bitty made me mad. I know I'm a bad person for telling a lie.

But the look on that woman's face will be worth the price of admission to wherever I end up going.

With my head in my lap...

Lyric courtesy of Squeeze...not really about morning sickness, but close enough.


Morning sickness. I wish I had it. Don't get me wrong, I'm kind of happy I'm not heaving my guts out every moment of the morning, but I've discovered what so many other women who have more than one child have figured out: every pregnancy is different. Sounds like a no-brainer, I know, but it really just didn't dawn on my until now.


When I was pregnant with TFYO, I had the most regular, compartmentalized morning sickness, ever. Six a.m., right on the dot for three months, beginning when I was three weeks along. It was so easy.


I was doing morning drive radio in Charleston at the time, and it fit perfectly into the show clock. I hosted the show, and Ray was the news anchor. I'd start to feel queasy around 5:58 a.m., so I'd wrap my segment, say "WSC news-time is 5:59, here's Ray with the news." I'd close the mic, run down the hall to the bathroom, be sick, rinse my mouth, wash my face, grab some water and be back in my chair in time to say "WSC news-time is 6:06". I'd go on with the show, and I didn't have to worry about being sick for the rest of the day.


So what's different?


Well, I'm not actually getting sick for starters. I'm just queasy from the time I get up until about one o'clock in the afternoon. So, I'm probably not eating as much as I should in the morning. Right now, I can usually choke down a bit of juice, a piece of toast and my prenatal vitamin. I just can't face food.


But come one o'clock you better get the hell out of my way, because you might get eaten along with everything else in my path. Even the cats start getting a little wild-eyed around 1 p.m. I'm ravenous. I eat everything. And that's a problem when I'm at work, because we can't have food in the studios.


After I stuff myself for about six hours, then I'm exhausted. And the process starts all over again the next morning.


The good news is, unlike last time when I had a serious pie and burrito habit (I promise, I'll explain at some point), I haven't really started gaining any weight yet, which means I'm still fitting into my clothes.


So thank you all for your kind words of concern. I'm actually not spending much time praying to the god of all things porcelain. But I kind of wish I was. At least it would be done.

And I promise, no more posts about being ill, okay?