Don't Forget!

Eli Stone.

Tonight @ 10:00. (9:00 central).

ABC

http://abc.go.com/fallpreview/elistone/index?homepage=true

*And if you haven't already, run right over and give Drama Mama some love. It's her birthday!

Eli Stone

Here is the contact information if you would like to write ABC officials in support of their airing of the premier episode of Eli Stone, tomorrow evening.

The CDC and the American Academy of Pediatrics are trying to get it off the air. They do not want you to see it because the episode deals with vaccine injury and autism.

ABC CONTACT INFORMATION
Nicole NicholsSenior Vice President of Entertainment Communications for "Eli Stone"Email: Nicole.Nichols@abc.comPhone: (818) 460-5267
Charissa GilmoreVice President of Media Relations for "Eli Stone"Email: Charissa.Gilmore@abc.com Phone: (818) 460-7950

Remember, in your e-mail or phone call, to ask for what you want, don't push against what you don't want. Pro freedom, not anti-censorship. Love.

For more info go to Age of Autism.

Ravenna

Her skin was white as powder. Her hair was short blond dreadlocks. She stood at the front of church, talking about her spiritual beliefs in a "coming of age" ceremony. She said something like, "God gave us brains and probably wants us to use them, to question, to expand and grow."

A couple of weeks later, I ran into her after a yoga class. Somehow we got to talking about my three year old daughter. About her heightened sensitivities, to sound, to light, to touch, to everything.

When I stopped speaking, she paused, and said,

"What a cool disorder."

I raised a brow.

"No, really." She said. "A lot of people abuse drugs to get that effect. To feel things more brightly."

She was no more than sixteen, and she was the first person to say anything positive to me about Riley's sensory issues.

Teenagers are so cool.

Speaking of Which....

Did everyone see Age of Autism today?

Big Pharma (in the name of the American Academy of Pediatrics) is trying to censor a television program who dare run a storyline about vaccine injury.

Om.............

* photo from http://www.old-time.com/commercials/1940's/More%20Doctors%20Smoke%20Camels.html

"Okay Docs, here's what you do...nod along and act respectful...

but whatever you do, don't educate yourself with anything outside what we give you? Ya hear? That's a good boy, now here's your kickback."

If your pediatrician tells you he won't see your family if you refuse certain or all vaccines consider yourself lucky he showed you his true colors and get out of there like a bat out of hell. Also...if he pats your tummy? Smack him.

http://www.pediatricnews.com/article/PIIS0031398X08700079/fulltext
Do your homework and decide for yourself if the benefits outweigh the risk. Your baby, your terms. Period.

P.S. I wonder how the drug companies knew all the right questions for the actors to ask? Hmm....apparently they've done their homework?

Ear Whacks

Seth: Mom I think you need to clean my ears because I just went like this, [sticks a pinky in the ear and twists] and look, I found a whack.

7 Things About Other Bloggers

1) Courtney does not feel complete without cheese.

2) Kelly does not like to talk on the phone.

3) Suzy deliberately squirts ketchup on people.

4) Jenny wants chickens.

5) Kim gave birth "all natural" three times to spare her children from the harmful effects of medications and chemicals.

6) Drama Mama is afraid of fish.

7) Carrie lives in a nunnery.

I can't remember what I had for dinner two hours ago, but all this? It sticks with me.

Dance Party

Seth's preschool had a dance tonight.

Riley was thrilled to be dressed up. She was a bit worried when it started getting crowded but she did a fantastic job. A couple of small moments, but nothing major.

Seth was more interested in the refreshments.

The problem with big dance parties is some jo-jo is always trying to edge in on your date. I seriously have no idea who this clown is.

Home again. Seth took this shot. Apparantly this is what we look like to the children. We're giants!

Nighty-night!

All Hail the Queen, and the Husband

My hair sticks straight up with static as I take off yet another dress. Nothing fits. The lump in my throat gets bigger as each one is worse than the last. Standing in the fitting room in my bra and underwear I look at my middle and don't recognize this body. I've had a good run. For the last 15 years or so I've been mostly thin. (In my teens and early twenties my weight went up and down due to emotional eating). Now I've gained 10 pounds almost overnight; the result of an out-of-whack thyroid. Ten pounds when you're 5'2" is a lot.

I've been diligent about exercise but refuse to starve myself.

Coming home from shopping I look at HT and burst into tears.

"I don't know how to dress for this body!" I tell him.

He hugs me.

"I'm too young to have a post menopausal figure!" I cry.

He says, "You are beautiful."

I shrug him off.

I've been vacillating between wanting to be thin and wanting instead to love myself even if I'm not. I'm embarrassed by how much this self-image thing is affecting me. I thought I had it licked. Now I see I only had it licked, because I was where I wanted to be! Why do I see so many women, bigger than me, as absolutely gorgeous, but hold myself to some "skinnier" standard? It's sick.

"I wish Queen Latifah would come here and help me figure out how to dress like a big beautiful woman!"

Todd smiles and says, "Queen Latifah would laugh you out of the room and tell you her thigh is bigger than the likes of you."

Sometimes the guy knows just what to say.

*photo from allmoviephoto.com

The Girl by the Side of the Road

I grew up by the side of the road, about ten yards from the shoulder of a rural highway. Most of my youth was spent, trying not to let anyone know the goings on in my home life. Everything was wrong, but the important thing was not to let on. That I pass for "normal." What would happen if I let down my guard? If I told someone, anyone of the alcoholism, the poverty, the emotional abuse, the sexual abuse so covert and confusing I didn't even know what to call it at the time? The thought of telling anyone and exposing the truth seemed like the end of the world.

So much shame.

I got out. Went to college. Moved away. Healed.
____

The pull to write was strong. Day after day, it woke me from a deep sleep urging me to go someplace I'd never been. It didn't feel like a choice. I thought it would be a story about my precious little girl. All we'd been through with autism. What we'd learned.

But that story is still in process. A different story needed to be told.

Around this time, we were driving an hour and a half down a rural highway to Riley's sensory processing therapy. Rundown houses dotted the side of the road for miles and miles.

It was shocking.

That life, so far behind me, was still there.

"There are girls living in those houses." I thought to myself.

Turns out my story is about a precious little girl. One who needn't be ashamed. One who did her very best and kept going.

With the completion of my manuscript I'm finally letting my guard down. And it feels not like the end of the world, but the beginning.

What Would You Do?

Riley has a little friend that constantly invites herself over. In fact, she begs to come to our house. Every day. She does not get to come over every time, but not a day goes by that she doesn't ask.

Can I come over today?
Tomorrow?
On the weekend?
Then what about next weekend?
Pleeeease?

When she is at our house, she wants to eat.

Can I have a breakfast bar?
Some popcorn?
Some soup?
Some string cheese?
A brownie?
Bread and butter?
Another breakfast bar?
A cookie?
Can I have another?
Pleeeeaase?

Part of me wants to feed the child. Anything she wants. She's hungry. For something.

But part of me feels I am not serving her if I don't teach her it is impolite to invite herself over all the time and to eat your host out of house and home.

Part of me is just so damn glad someone wants to play with Riley. But I'm not so sure Riley's the draw, and that makes me just a little queasy.

She's a sweet girl.

Truly.

I don't know the answer.

Any suggestions?

You Know You're a Writer When....

You're in the waiting room at the doctor's office, and you flip through People, and all you can think is this:

"Katie Holmes is going to write one hell of a memoir one day."

Little Thyroid

So you know how I had a tiny hint that the thyroid issue might just possibly be related to the fact that I'm sending my book out to agents?

Well...I just watched Louise Hay's movie and one of the people interviewed said this point is completely backed up by science.

Physical manifestations have deeper meanings than what we see on the surface. She talked about the thyroid specificially.

There may well be a lot of people who will not like what my book has to say, about class, about gender, about being a girl child in small town USA. Little Thyroid is preparing me. She's forcing me to look in the mirror.

"Love yourself." she says.

"Get really clear about who you are."

I'm no longer cursing these hot flashes and mood swings. Somehow they are vitally important.

Minding My Own Business

"It's such a wonderful thing to realize that you can create your own reality without sticking your nose in everybody else's, and that the less attention you give to everybody else's reality, the purer your vibration is going to be - and the more you are going to be pleased with what comes to you."

Boca Raton, FL - 12/8/01
© 1997-2005 Abraham-Hicks Publications. www.abraham-hicks.com

A Brilliant Performance

I'd never heard of Heath Ledger until I saw Brokeback Mountain. His performance in that movie was incredible. He played the part of Ennis with such dignity and grace, fully capturing the ruggedness of the cowboy and the inner conflict he experienced due to his sexuality.

That film broke new ground. That film spoke of love and tragedy. Tragedy due to nonacceptance. Hopefully his performance opened a few hearts and minds.

Heath Ledger.

1979-2008

Let Your Wants Be Known

One week from today we do the final walk through at our new house. We close on the 31st. I am enjoying the anticipation! We looked at tons of houses, and had one deal fall through before we found "the one."

The new house is old. The same folks owned it for 58 years and took exceptional care of it. Still, she's fashionably mature. As in, I will need to use a match to light the stove in the kitchen. This thought makes me smile.

After the first deal didn't take, I sighed and told our wonderful realtor, "I would so love to live within walking distance of the school." (The first house wasn't).

The Universe replied, "Why didn't you just say so?" and promptly tapped on Mary's shoulder, giving her instructions to put out an inter-office voicemail to every agent at her company's many branches, alerting them to what we were looking for and where.

The house we are buying was not even on the market yet (apologies to any Clevelanders trying to sell their homes)! It is just around the corner from Riley's school. Next year Seth will go there too. Two-tenths of a mile we'll walk. I'll kiss them good-bye, and see them six hours later. Ahhh yeah...are you diggin on that? But wait....where was I?

One year ago we were living in Lynchburg, Va. We had no idea we'd be in Cleveland, but I was asking. Here we are, moving into a beautiful home in a great community with a school district committed to giving Riley the best education she is capable of. We're just getting started!

What do you want that you've yet to ask for?

The Dream

The girls walk out of the elementary school hand in hand. Riley with her pin straight brown hair and white skin. T with mocha skin and the braids Riley covets.

Riley says, "Bye T."

T says, "Bye Riley."

I say, "T, we won't see you 'til Tuesday, okay?"

She looks confused.

"It's Martin Luther King Day on Monday."

"Oh, yeah." She says.

T, imagining three whole days apart, hugs Riley long and hard. Riley hugs her back. As they embrace I think of Dr. King's dream.

We still have a long way to go in this country. Even though they are in the same school, many of the black kids live in poverty. You see evidence in the broken backpacks that don't get replaced. The parents that aren't present because they are working two and three jobs. I don't know what it is like to be black, but I do know what it is like to show up at school already tired from "home." For a lot of the kids at Riley's school, things are definitely not "equal." Not yet. Not by a long shot.

But today, in this moment, watching these two little friends, Dr. King's speech runs through my head, and my heart swells with appreciation.

You Got a Problem With That?

One of the things I love about Carrie is her finesse with the swear word.

Early on in our friendship, I told her how good it was to have someone in my life who appreciated the F word as much as I. Since then, she has dutifully peppered each and every correspondence with over the top profanity. I reciprocate, of course.

Now...if you met either one of us personally, we probably would not include curse words in our general conversation, probably. We do know how to act civilized.

This morning, on XM radio, Diane Keaton was interviewed by Oprah's best friend Gayle King.

It went something like this....

Gayle: Diane, what the F--- is wrong with you saying f--- on GMA on live f---ing television? Didn't your mother ever tell you we're not allowed to say f--- publicly?

I was rolling! Sweet, Gayle King? Sweet, Diane Keaton?

Call me unrefined, but if loving "colorful" language is wrong, I don't wanna be right.

Carrie and I may be sailors, but apparantly we're in good company.

Looky.

It's Ask a Blogger Time!

Maps and permission and taxes, oh my!

http://www.madashellclub.net/?p=1976

Hot and Cold and Tired All Over

Well.

We know what the mood swings, round the clock hot flashes (I'm only 39!), fatigue, three month constant PMS with no "relief," damn the whole world to hell has been about.

A little something called my thyroid.

Seems my body has been making anti-bodies to attack it.

Note to body: Stop it already!

I've been walking around with a broken thermostat. First comes a chill I can't shake. Two minutes later, I'm peeling off layers of clothes.

My wonderful doctor says it is a permanent condition and I need to treat it with medication. I listen. I get the prescription. I start taking the thyroid pills. But I don't believe her.

You see, I've shook hands with a 33 year old man who was severely autistic as a child. He is not autistic now. No traces. He graduated from Brown University and has a successful career.

I have a girl who was once my demon, but is now my joy.

I googled thyroid and the first picture that came up showed the little butterfly gland right there in front of the voice box.

Interesting. This, as I begin to send out manuscripts.

Dear Little Thyroid,

Let's find out what you really need, and give it to you.

* photo from www.abc.net.au

Acute Rescue Cream

The other night I accidently poured boiling water over my hand, which of course made me think of this old post.

http://michelleoneilwrites.blogspot.com/2007/01/burn-cream.html

Seriously, get some. Keep it in the kitchen. It works!

Enrique Anyone?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-HzNUYj6e2c&feature=related

I Want Alice

I'd like her to come clean my house, and to always be available in case I want to attend a yoga class, etc. She can cook too, if she wants. She would dote on my kids, spoil them a bit, but not too much. Oh...and my imaginary Alice would have a lot of experience with kids on the spectrum. She'd love them. In fact, she would specifically ask to be placed with us for this reason.

"Us?" I would ask, hands to my chest, over my heart.

"Yes you." She would nod, smiling

With Alice, I'd be fabulous.

What If.......?

I've been tossing around an idea in my brain.

What if "autism" is something gone terribly right?

I know. That statement might rub me just the teensiest bit the wrong way if my child was smearing poop on the walls, if she was still screaming 24/7, or if she had never said, "Mommy." It will inevitably rub me the wrong way at some point this very day, when my "high functioning" child displays her inflexibility, or when I catch myself worrying about her future.

But I'm not talking about the daily nitty-gritty. I'm talking about the big picture.

There is a line in A Course in Miracles that says, "I do not know what I am looking at so I must not judge what I see." It applies to all situations.

A teacher once told me a parable about an ant and a tree in winter. To the ant, with it's short life span, the tree looks dead. It's over. The ant is not able to know...from his tiny perspective, what will happen come spring.

We do not yet know the purpose of autism in the grand scheme of the Universe. On a soul level, why are these kids here?

Our daughter has turned our lives inside out and upside down. She has taken us through the fire. We are better people for having had this child. Let's see....the potential for 1 in 150 sets of "better," more compassionate, less judgemental, conscious parents. Not to mention siblings and extended family. Not to mention friends. Not to mention blog readers! What are the ripple effects?

What if I re-direct my thoughts of victimhood and worry, to thoughts of appreciation for what these brave souls are bringing to the planet?

What if, there is more to this epidemic, than I can see?

Low Frustration Tolerance

Yesterday's note home from school:

"Riley became frustrated when she could not hit the ball with a racket. She threw the racket and ran out of the gym."

She merely does what all of us want to do.

I know I shouldn't laugh, but sometimes you just have to. Mostly, because it reminds me of someone else in this family. Though for him it would be a golf club and it would be wrapped around a tree.

HT does not golf.

This is why.

Of course my frustration tolerance is really, really high. Especially when it comes to computers. I have yet to throw one through a window.

I'm practically a saint.

The Autism Spectrum

Check out Cliff's new blog. He does profiles of people on the spectrum. It's a great idea. I love the pictures. Giving faces to the 1 in 150 statistics.

http://theautismspectrum.blogspot.com/

Good luck with your new blog! Thanks Cliff!

Can I Get a Witness?

This morning in the car, Christian radio tricked me again. I was scanning the stations, and stopped when I heard the song Some Kind of Wonderful. Grooving along at a red light, I suddenly realized the male singer was saying "He's some kind of wonderful."

Hmmm...had I tuned into a gay radio station?

Then alas, the song proceeded to get all Jesus-y.

Damn.

Not that I have a thing against Jesus. Jesus, from what I hear, was so enlightened he could heal people just by being in their presence. He was a teacher who knew profoundly he was the child of God. He also knew everyone else was.

The thing I dislike about Christian rock is all the "My God is an awesome God" nonsense. The whole "my" thing. As if yours is different from anyone else's.

All That Is, is...all that is.

You will never convince me that any person is going to hell because they don't "know Jesus." To me, that would make All That Is, awfully foolish. Or awfully hateful. And hate is not what makes the world go round.

Above all the dogma, there is One. No one is special because everyone is.

Over the weekend I checked out the Unitarian Universalist church here. We attended a UU church briefly in another state a few years back, but we weren't quite ready for it at the time.

They start their service by saying:

We are the church of the open mind,
the helping hands,
the loving heart.

All spiritual paths are honored. All people are respected.

"Hey kids. I went to a new church this weekend. Do you want to hear about it?"

They did.

Riley's first question,

"Mom. Is it a church based on love?"

eat pray love

brilliant

funny

inspiring

We Need One Another

The following was read during the service at the First Unitarian Church of Cleveland, which I visited today:

We need one another when we would mourn and be comforted.
We need one another when we are in trouble and afraid.
We need one another when we are in despair, in temptation, and need to be recalled to our best selves again.
We need one another when we would accomplish some great purpose, and cannot do it alone.We need one another in the hour of success, when we look for someone to share our triumphs.
We need one another in the hour of our defeat, when with encouragement we might endure, and stand again.We need one another when we come to die, and would have gentle hands prepare us for the journey.
All our lives we are in need, and others are in need of us.

-George Odell

Did Ya Miss Me?

You lie! You didn't even know I was gone!

Got back today from five days in our home town. Little Miss Riley did a great job. No major meltdowns. A few little moments of frustration figuring out her new Webkinz obsession on the computer(thank you Grammy & Grampy), but overall it was a great trip. Both kids had a ball with their grandparents and their cousins.

Got our pizza fix. Nirchi's. Twice.

We are from a very Italian community. I admit it, we look down on those of you who eat Papa Johns or Little Ceasars, or God forbid, Pizza Hut. Nirchi's is big chewy doughy square shaped pieces. Extra cheese, baby. It's the only way to go.

Unless of course you eat Tony's round crust(now you have to go to his brother Nick's 'cause Tony's closed due to "family problems" as the story goes) or Brozetti's (squares). Those are respectable choices. Lately we've heard rumors of "Rossi's" being good, but we weren't going to risk it.

It was truly a wonderful, relaxing trip. HT and I had a date night. Went to a favorite restaurant (The Lost Dog Cafe) and then to see The Debaters. It was awesome. I love me some Denzel Washington. The young actors in the film deserve Oscars. All three of them.

So much more to write about this trip, but for now I'll just say it was a good one. We're back, we're whooped. In a good way.

Now go order your hot pie. You know you want it.

Yum!

Za!

Courtney Sheinmel is POSITIVELY Awesome!

This in the deals at publishersmarketplace.com:

CHILDREN'S: MIDDLE GRADECourtney Sheinmel's POSITIVELY, the story of a twelve-year-old, HIV-positive, courageous girl who finds hope and redemption in the face of a string of unthinkable tragedies, based on the author's experiences working with the Elizabeth Glaser Pediatric AIDS Foundation, to David Gale at Simon & Schuster Children's, by Alex Glass at Trident Media Group (World English).

Check out Courtney's blog at http://courtneywrites.livejournal.com/.

Congratulations Courtney!

FYI: She's the next Judy Blume.

Sethism

"I think you mis-under-heard me."

Date Night

That's right. Me and HT.

Out.

By ourselves.

For as long as we want.

(Well, maybe not that long).

But still.

Happy, happy.