56. Let’s Hear it for the Preachers

“Let’s Hear it for the Preachers”

I was going to sum up the Autism NJ Transition conference some more, but then I realized: I just don’t want to this week.

*pausing for a beat, to see if I feel bad, but not even a little*

We had company for four days. There’s the endless trickle of allergies. End-of-year kiddie activities are sucking my attention span to the point where I’ve agreed to do things, and then the next day, I don’t even remember what I agreed to.. G leaves for a school trip this week, and is busy scrabbling through closets and suitcases in search of one piece of clothing that has clearly decided it doesn’t wanna leave home. A is watching all the activity and adding his own special squirrel-scampers to the proceedings–getting underfoot, yodeling loudly just when we need to focus, asking for random favors so we won’t forget that he’s the king, and policing everything in the kitchen. I would set up a makeshift kitchen in the garage to get away from the roolz police, but there are earwigs in there, and he’d just police me there too.

Incidentally, when people enthuse about the beyootiful spring weather, they never mention the burgeoning of the bug population. And I don’t want to hear their enlightened comments about a healthy ecosystem either.

While we’re on the topic, why ARE so many people so preachy? Please make it stop. I mean it. This week alone, I have been treated to so much amateur-hour schooling on various topics that my eyes have not rolled back into place in my head. Even if I have the kind of face that looks like I don’t have two thoughts to rub together in my head, I still don’t want a lecture. I’ll pay them Monopoly money to stop. I’ll read to their kids, even the ones who never stop snarking. I’ll tell them they’re pretty. Especially the ones who tell me about how their uncle’s son-in-law’s UPS guy’s autistic cousin is on a casein-free diet and does customized Tibetan calisthenics, and is now so cured, he’s engaged to an actual girl, and designs bus shelters from recycled auto parts.

I have an unrelated rant–why is it that every referral someone gives me is for someplace in North Jersey? I’m not going there! There’s stuff in the rest of Jersey too!

And furthermore–why is it that the same people who tell me to feel better soon re: pollen allergies are the very ones planting more flowers?

With that, it’s probably best I stop talking now. My husband is frantically writing his part of the conference summary. He looks cute when he’s stressed.

I wish you a good week, and if that’s not in the works, I can send you to the guy who does calisthenics. Apparently it works. For real. All the pretty people are doing it.

Radha.

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