Autism and Me: Sibling Stories

Autism and Me: Sibling Stories
by Ouisie Shapiro
Hardcover: 32 pages
Publisher: Albert Whitman & Company (March 1, 2009)
Recommended reading level: Grade 4–6
5/5 stars

Autism and Me: Sibling Stories is a short, but lovely book, directed at the young siblings of children who have been diagnosed with Autism.

These one page essays are written by the typical siblings about their relationship with their brother or sister with Autism. In the essays, the children are generally quite honest--one admits to being embarrassed by his brother--but yet they all show that despite the differences these pairs still have a loving relationship. The amazing photos show the pairs doing activities that can be done by both, and show the maximum affection that can be shown in each case.

I work with children with Autism and Asperger's Syndrome, and I know from personal experience that the typical sibling/atypical sibling relationship is a top concern for most parents--as well as the typical siblings. This beautiful little book would be a good one for the typical sibling of this age group to read (perhaps with the parent) so that he/she will know that his/her case is not unique and that others out there have succeeded in this same situation.

Granted, siblings older than this age group may not find it appealing, may feel that it sugar coats and may want a book that talks more about how to actually deal with a sibling with Autism. That is not this book, nor should the reader wish it to be. This book is directed at a younger audience, meant to give encouragement to that particular demographic who is wondering if brother or sister will ever really play with, or love, or even notice them.

I will be recommending this to the families of my preschoolers to read with older sibling in the recommended age group and I am appreciative to the author, and her niece and nephew, for the creation of this fine little book.

Edit: I am bowled over by the negativity that this book has gotten on amazon for the very reasons that I gave it a positive review, and by some who say they work with children with or have siblings who have Autism. Perhaps, as an adult on the spectrum myself, I am more inclined to see the need of a positive outlook? Regardless, I found this to be a wonderful book for the intended audience.

Not My Frivolous Usual

It's been a lovely relaxing day. Other than a trip to the yard for cats to nibble grass and barf it up, I've not left the house. Lovely, lovely, lovely. I really could be a hermit, you know. During the summer, it's nothing for me to go all week without opening the door.

Yesterday, was busier, though, and Thursday. . . Well, Thursday I felt like I was caught in a tsunami.

My great-aunt, a very special lady who has always treated me with great love and affection and has shown my husband the same, died Tuesday afternoon. She was an octogenarian, had lung cancer, and had chosen not to pursue treatments. We saw her in May, then again in about four weeks later, and it was obvious that she was starting to fail. It was also obvious that she was ready for death in a way that I have never witnessed. Most people won't understand this, but that's okay. She was ready, willing, for death. I have never seen a person that did not have something holding them back. Not her. And not in a morbid, "I just want to die" way either. She was very cheerful, and happy to live, but also, just as happy to die. I wish I could explain it better. It was so beautiful.

I got to participate in this death of hers in a way that I didn't anticipate, and would not have agreed to, had I had a choice.

Three of her grandchildren have been gifted with singing voices, and without meaning to be vain, I have been given that same gift. Not an operatic voice, or even a pop star voice, but the voice of my foremothers: an Appalachian, folk, or even bluesy voice. It's generally perfect for a capella, and I remember singing for my grandfather's graveside funeral, when it carried just perfectly.

I don't like to sing in public, though. Anxiety hits like you wouldn't believe and I'd rather just sing for Stoney and the cats and myself.

On the way to Althea's birthday gathering in June, I knew in my soul, my spirit, my inner most being, that I was to sing "Swing Home, Sweet Chariot" for her. No way, was my reaction. Not gonna do it. That is morbid.

If you don't know the words, it contains a reference to getting to heaven before me. . . much better for a funeral. Much better to not sing it at all, was my thought. And fought with that other part of me the whole 1 1/2 drive over that. Never mentioned it to Stoney. Too personal and besides, I was not going to do it.

She asked her grandson to sing, which he did marvelously. And I knew. I had to give her that gift, that song, or die.

I stood up, in front of twenty or so close and distant family members and told her how I'd been fighting it, but that I needed to sing her this song. I cried. I sang. Her daughters smiled and cried. She beamed at me, through the whole thing. Yes, I'll get there before you, her eyes said, and I can't wait.

I didn't want to be a part of that, but I was, and I was blessed as a result.

Her passing was quick; she was actually ill for only a week or so and then her heart just stopped. It was the most beautiful death I've ever encountered--and I generally find death ugly, and mean, and unfair. She set a new standard that I doubt I'll ever see again.

So, Thursday night, Stoney and I made a quick trip up to the funeral home. He was unable to get off work for the funeral on Friday, but we wanted to show support to her family, who are so good to us.

I've got stuff to tell about our yummy meal afterward, complete with pics, but it seems to frivolous, so I'll save it for later.

The Marriage Bureau for Rich People

The Marriage Bureau for Rich People
Farahad Zama
Hardcover: 304 pages
Publisher: Putnam Adult (June 11, 2009)
4/5 stars

With The Marriage Bureau for Rich People, Mr. Zama brings the reader into the colorful world of present-day India, where some marriages are still arranged and caste and/or religion can still be a factor in deciding a good match.

Our protagonist, Mr. Ali is retired and his retirement has begun to weigh on both him and his wife. To fill out his free time, he opens a marriage bureau. This will function as a time saver and be more discreet for those who would like to advertise for a match for themselves or their children. Mr. Ali will do the advertising, screen the replies, and start a sort of "club" with a large base of eligible matches. It seems like a good idea, and it is. After a few months, his Marriage Bureau for Rich People is boomimg and his free time is free no more--from one extreme to another!

With Mrs. Ali's help, he hires a very pleasant, respectable young woman, Aruna, to help him as secretary and her story is added to the threads of the plot. Along with Aruna's very interesting story is that Mr. and Mrs. Ali with their son and several side stories of clients that lightly touch the main stories.

To begin with, The Marriage Bureau for Rich People is a bit slow, and feels as if the author is trying too hard. It is easy to see, in the first pages, that this is his first novel. But as it progresses, it becomes a charming, lovely little story with the feel of a Jane Austen novel. It is refreshing and a delight to the senses; it is also a pleasure to learn so much, in a positive manner, about caste and religion in present-day India. Reading about the marriage ceremonies was a pure delight.

I will be honest, I do not like romance novels, but the romance that was gradually slid into this novel was similar to that of my favorite author, Jane Austen, so I was pleased with it, and not annoyed.

Over all, despite it's slow start, I found this a delicious little book and give it a high recommendation. I had to give it only four stars, instead of the five stars that it emotionally elicited, due to the slow start and sometimes not perfect writing. I do hope to see more from Mr. Zama, as he has a wonderful way of bringing the reader into his world.

Curse you, Lord Cucumber!

It started innocently enough (as most things do), with a cucumber (as most things do not). A lovely, small, dark green, appropriately bumpy, beautiful cucumber. Now, I know that cukes generally give me indigestion, but, was I gonna let that stop me from eating this perfect specimen? Heck no.

I lovingly washed it, sliced it up in gorgeous, not quite circular rounds, loaded it with salt and ate it, making "this is SO yummy" sounds as I did so. I even offered some to Stoney. He had one measly piece, saying something inane like "I like cucumbers, but not how they taste later". I waved him off, and ate my delicacy.

I remember commenting to myself an hour or so later "Hey, no burps! Must be a burpless one! No indigestion from THIS baby!" and smiled to myself thinking how wrong Stoney was, how badly he missed out, but that's okay 'cause that meant more for me.

I went to be early, with a good book that I shall review later, and read till this side of midnight (or maybe that side, who knows really) and settled in for a lovely sleep. I was so proud of myself. Bed early, sleep at a decent time. . . That meant I would be up at a good time and accomplish a LOT of my needs-to-be-done-this-summer list.

But, oh, that cucumber had it's own agenda.

I don't know what time the dreams started, but I awoke around 2 am, in misery from a dream about having severe reflux--the kind that sent me to the hospital a few summers ago. It was a relief to wake up from that painful dream. For about 0.2 seconds until I realized the reason I was dreaming such a dream was that my esophagus was on fire.

Did I say on fire? I wish I could convey how it really felt. You'd have nightmares just READING about it.

"Curse you Lord Cucumber!" I muttered as I stood up. As soon as attained uprighness, I belched. What an understatement. I mean I BEEEEELLLLLLCCCCHED. It was like a baking soda volcano had just let loose. Remember Charlie and Grandpa in Willie Wonka's factory? When they drank that soda pop they shouldn't have? THAT is what it was like!

I walked about ten steps and WOAH, there went another belch. I was rather proud. If I could do that on command, I'd be ever so popular with the middle school crowd.

After that overture, it was a let down not to puke or die or anything, but I just took my reflux med, drank some soy milk, ate 4 generic tums dealies and went back to bed. Stoney had awakened and congratulated me on my belches. Even he was impressed, so you KNOW they were good.

Then, it was time to build Mount Pillow. THE most uncomfortable way to sleep. Next to sleeping flat on my back when reflux is flaming. So, I built the pillow mound, and spent the next few hours fitfully trying to get comfortable.

Result? Once it finally died down, and I was able to climb down from Fluffy Mountain and sleep in the bed like a real person and get some good sleep, it was late. Real late. So, I either sleep right through the alarm or failed to set it last night (anything is possible) and didn't get up until afternoon and had to rush around to accomplish SOMETHING today. And it's all the fault of that little innocent looking cucumber.

I sent the other two with Stoney to his work today. Let those demons find someone else to torture.

>.< Ooo! Cupcakes!

Friday was a lovely day. Stoney was off work, so we had lunch out and did some grocery shopping. Lunch was at my new favorite restaurant, which has The Best hummus EVER. It is so garlicky, it's still fighting with my tongue when it hits my stomach. YUMMY!

After that, it was the local organic farmer's market. Oh, how I wish I had taken my camera. The colors were amazing! It just seemed that Friday the flowers and vegetables were more colorful than ever before. The little eggplants, in particular, stand out in my mind. Still young, not a deep purple, but a lavendery color. Gorgeous. As always, there were vegetables that I had heard of, but never actually seen, and certainly couldn't cook and probably wouldn't eat if I could. But that's part of the fun.

We've decided maybe we should raise chickens. Home grown eggs get a good price. How hard could it be?

I know, I know. . . but seriously, when we have our own place and can be a bit self-sufficient, I think we'll try chickens. Not for us to eat; neither of us like farm eggs (I can barely stand eggs in the best of times) but other people just seem to love them. Plus, I think it would be fun. It's part of our running away dream anyhow.

After admiring everything and then buying some tomatoes and a few cucumbers (can you believe that I PAY for indigestion??), we headed over to Earth Fare, our local health food (but so much more store). Got more of that Thai Chicken soup that Stoney is in love with at the mo and I found some super yummy Vegetable Curry out of their deli. Had it for lunch today. Yowza! We got some naan too, so lunch was incredible today, with his soup and my curry and the naan, followed by the last half of my cupcake from their bakery. Luckily, except for the cupcake, it will be repeated tomorrow.

Sad about the cupcake. Wish I had more. I love cupcakes more than any other sweet, if they are good cupcakes. I don't like a light, fluffy cake. I like a dense, moist cake. Think homemade pineapple upside down cake. That kind of cake. And Earth Fare makes their cupcakes just like that. Totally heavenly. The icing is good too. I always get a cupcake when we go. Like a kid getting a cookie at the grocery store. It's part of the trip. I look forward to it from the time it is decided that we're going and I wonder, in the back of my head the entire time until I am actually in front of the bakery case, just what flavor cupcakes they will have today. Strawberry cake is my favorite, when they make it. Oh, to die for! Friday, it was yellow cake with chocolate icing. Still, worth a major felony.

Then comes the long, interminable ride home until I can actually EAT the cupcake. We had to stop at the regular grocery store to pick up a few other things (namely my favorite brand of cheese and some olives for salads and a bag of ice because you can't drink ice water unless you have ice, now can you?) so that made the wait SO much longer.

I try not to throw the groceries down and dive into my cupcake. I have to have SOME maturity. So, it's put up the groceries--an unbelievably long process--change into comfy clothes and then. . . ah yes, then, with the soy milk on the table beside me, fork in hand, I eye it up for just a minute in the sweet certainty that the cupcake is MINE! Then, it's nom nom nom.

So, Friday was a fantastic day, what with hummus and cupcakes and the like.

Until the pipe broke under the kitchen sink, but I've already told you how awesome Stoney is about stuff like that. Takes it in stride and good humor, no problem. At least once a year we have a holiday disaster; if this is our holiday disaster, I'll take it. We just put an empty kitty liter bucket under it, mopped up the floor and Stoney fixed it this morning. Easy done.

Today has been a lazy day. Other than his venture to Home Depot, we've stayed in and gamed all day. Lovely, lovely, lovely.

And now, today is really tomorrow, and he's asleep and the cat's are asleep and I SHOULD be asleep, but I just keep thinking about how much I wish I had another cupcake.

Addendum. . .

to previous post.

I'll have you know that I just showered. So, in case you thought I was dirty or lazy, I have showered TWICE in TWO days. See!! And for no real reason either. So there.

Mainly About Showers

Yesterday was a totally wasted day. After not sleeping at all Tuesday night (seriously), I finally fell asleep sometime after 5:30, while Stoney was getting ready for work. Threw the whole day off. When I did get up, all I did was brush my teeth, step in a hair ball, drink some water, run through email/twitter/blogs, write a post and then eat breakfast. By that time, Stoney was home, so I took a shower. Which took about half an hour. You know how it is, when you've not showered in a coupla days. Just seems to take forever to get all the grime--

Wha? You don't know? Well, then you're A) not a gamer geek, B) not afraid to shower behind a curtain you can't see through or C) not all of the above. I am C. I'll admit it. I go days without showering--but only if I'm at home. I won't go in public without a bathe. That's too hippie even for me. (Notice I didn't say ANYTHING about shaving my legs.) We're especially bad about it on the weekends, Stoney and I, as we'll start gaming as soon as we get up and game until we collapse 12 hours later, sleep and repeat.

Of course, given our current shower curtain condition, I can't shower without him home anyway. I MUST have a clear shower curtain. Oddly enough, this phobia developed long before I saw Janet Leigh get sliced and diced; that just clinched it. Our actual curtain is clear--a lovely clear curtain with black and white designs from Target, totally diggable--but when I bought this last liner, I just wasn't paying enough attention. It's so opaque Jobba the Hutt could be outside it and I'd never know.

Granted my tom cat, General, usually guards me when I'm in the shower. Really, he does. He takes up a post on the rug in front of the heater (I prefer to think he's guarding me, not waiting to trip me up or just soaking all the heat from the heater) and stays with me until I leave the bathroom. But honestly, what good is a 9 pound fluff ball gonna do against a determined psycho killer? He might put of a vacillating one, but if the psycho is determined. . . There is a chance that General MIGHT accidentally trip up the would-be-murderer as s/he makes a lunge for the curtain, causing the knife to fall and then I'd be able to grab it and defend myself, but most likely, s/he'd be using a gun instead and just shoot me from the door (which I NEVER shut when I'm showering no matter if the curtain is clear or not!) so I really shouldn't count on it. It's just better to have a clear shower curtain. That has magically deterred any would be attackers for all these years. But right now, my curtain is NOT clear, and I have to wait until Stoney is home to shower. Which is what I did yesterday. And it took, like, half an hour, cause I hadn't showered in a coupla days.

Happily, Stoney never mentions when I don't shower. That is generally because he hasn't showered either, but during the summer when I'm home and he's not, he still doesn't notice because he smoked for 20 years and his sense of smell is kinda dead and I have to be really ripe before he could smell me and believe me, I will have showered by then.

It's not that I don't LIKE to shower. I do. I use Zum bar soaps from Indigo Wild and that makes every shower a lovely experience. I like the Tea Tree-Citrus the best. Very potent stuff! Stoney likes the Sea Salt and the Rosemary. The Grapefruit is yummy too. Warning: don't get the Cinnamon or the Peppermint to use for anything but your hands. IT BURNS! I bought some of it at Christmas and YOWSA! I'm still using the last half bar of Cinnamon for hand washing in the bath room. It's great because my hands smell like cinnamon for a long time afterward and that makes me think of spicy desserts.

Thinking of which is making me hungry. I go eat now. (Looks like I've wasted another day. . . )

Jane Eyre: The Graphic Novel

Jane Eyre: The Graphic Novel
Reading level: Young Adult
Paperback: 144 pages
Publisher: Classical Comics (January 6, 2009)
2/5 stars

Though very easy to read, and engrossing (due to the original story), Jane Eyre: The Graphic Novel owes a lot of flaws to its medium. The darkness and style of the art (typical graphic novel art, I might add) was only appropriate for some of the novel and made it seem much more dreary than it is.

Also, due to the format and need to make the story fit into a smaller book, much (and some of it important, to a frequent Jane Eyre reader anyway) was left out. This made the book seem, to me, choppy and not fully explained. I wondered at times if I would understand the action or reasons if I had not already read the full book many times.

While this might be a nice introduction to a classic for some younger readers, I really would not recommend it.

Is it already Wednesday?

Nearly broke the key off in the door going out to feed the Outside Critters. Worrisome moment. I don't feed them as often as the kitties, but they certainly eat well when I do. Today they have French herb Quinoa which wasn't as herby as it smelled AND I cooked it too long, some black grapes that weren't up to snuff and left over creamed corn from a restaurant last week that I just never got around to eating. If I put it out early enough, the birds will get to eat some, they'll like the grain and maybe the grapes, before the night shift comes in to demolish anything left. We have possoms (my favorites), raccoons (Stoney's favorites), skunks and even an occasional fox. Makes for lovely night watching; we have a large window over looking their feeding place. Sometimes we can hear the raccoons when they come visiting. Sometimes we'll look once and the food'll all be there, look a short while later and it's all gone. I like to think of our home as an animal sanctuary. Find peace, all who enter these grounds.

Except ants of course. They aren't animals, and they don't count in the "all". I hate and fear them. Sprayed around the door while letting the cats eat grass this morning ("this will make EXCELLENT barfs!") and so of course, I came in with one on my neck just now. Mean, NASTY critters. I hates 'em! They're very fast and they'd run all over me before I could stop it. And they bite and sting and get in my food. I hates 'em!

Posted a comment over at the Bleat. Lileks recently watched Lolita and I tried to convince him of the need to read the book. (my review is here.) If I ever teach a college lit class (unlikely given my predilection for special ed preschoolers), I will assign Lolita. Then maybe, just maybe, one or two will actually READ it and see it for what it is. An AMAZING novel. Or if I ever find a lamp genie or magic wand (more likely than the lit class) I'll wish for educated people with a bent (notice I did NOT say prejudice) against it to suddenly decide to read it. I bet that 75% or more would come away just awed by it, and in love with Nabokov's writing, just like I did. Every time we go to the used book store, I buy anything by him I can. The man has such an amazing way about him.

I should be reading some of the Nabokovs I have stacked on my to-be-read shelf this summer, but instead I have been sating myself in the world of Vlad Taltos by Steven Brust. Good fantasy stuff. He has built a fabulous world that I have completely bought into and love. Vlad is an assassin, witch, tough talking, loud mouthed, very real fella living in a world that doesn't necessarily appreciate his qualities. He has some great friends, some great enemies and a wise ass, killer familiar. Jhereg is the first in the series if you're interested. I like how Brust doesn't tell all about his world, or even Vlad, in one go. You just get hints sometimes, sometimes he backs up the series and gives up a book out of sequence, but it's all good. Great series. I'm reading his latest Vlad book right now and sad that I'll have to wait and see when the next one comes out. There are two more short series I can read though, in the same world. Good stuff.

Matter of a fact, I like Vlad so much I made a Mii for him on the Wii. Looks just like I imagine him. Except for being a Mii, of course. Made one of Severus Snape too. Proud of those. Here, I'll show you. That's me beside Severus and that's Lady Teldra (from the Brust novels) beside Vlad.







I miss Severus. I would go back and read the HP books, but then I'd eventually get to the last one and he'd die again and I'd be all sad again, so what's the use. And don't tell me to watch the movies. I quit after number 3. They aren't cannon, Snape doens't look like Snape and the costumes. . . DIDN'T YOU GUYS READ THE BOOKS????

I could go on, but I've not had lunch, General is stealing food from the girls and the horrid Mii music is still playing and needs to be turned off.