Saturday, July 9, 2011
So I Gone and Done it and I'm Glad I Did!
I published my book FALL. What is FALL about you might ask? Well - it's all spelled out in the new blog I started for it here . Hope to see you there!
Friday, May 6, 2011
Aloha Fridays: The Cooter Patrol
1967 Pago Pago, American Samoa
(This is a True Story)
As the son of a government contract worker, my father and his family lived in a government compound in American Samoa. Being 16 years old, Dad, (who I will refer to as Michael from now on), was on of the oldest white kids in the compound and in the pecking order, he was top rooster. Michael had two younger brothers and together they ruled the neighborhood.
The summer of ’67 was particularly boring since Michael and his brothers weren’t allowed to get jobs. They had an immense amount of time on their hands and on a small island, such as American Samoa, it didn’t take very long for them to find trouble.
Several other younger teenage males in the compound looked up to Michael and wanted desperately to belong to his “gang”. Michael, however, was very selective with who he hung out with. These other boys weren’t exactly his cut of beef. However, he couldn’t think of an easy way to get rid of these unwanted tag-alongs. So, Dad started the Cooter Patrol Gang and held initiations.
The first thing the new recruits had to do was steal license plates. See, there are only 3 types of licenses in Samoa. Cargo and/or Passenger. It was a cargo plate if it had a capital C at the beginning and a passenger plate if it had a P. It was the Buses that had the treasured CP on it’s plates. Thus, Cooter Patrol. Of course, Michael wasn’t above performing the initiation himself and soon had a Cargo Plate tacked to the makeshift clubhouse in the jungle behind the compound.
A few days later, several more CP plates appeared on the wall of the club house. That was too easy, thought Michael. After much thought, an idea came to mind. An idea so diabolical, that it would surely weed out the weak-willed, yellow-bellied, toad eating scum who thought they were worthy enough to hang out with Michael.
Michael sent out word to all the wannabes to meet him at the Tafuna Airport at midnight.
American Samoa has only one airport. And it’s tiny. If there were initiations for pilots, landing a Boeing 727 in Samoa had to be it. The runway is very short and ends at the edge of a cliff overlooking the thrashing, chaotic ocean that could pulverize a plane in minutes against the jagged edges of the reef below its frothing, white foam.
Michael arrived with his two younger brothers, Jerry and Merle and hid in the jungle alongside the runway. As midnight approached, Michael awaited the arrival of security which was tasked with driving up and down the runway in an old beat up station wagon, clearing away coconut tree fronds, wild pigs, and other debris.
Soon, the other boys arrived and hunkered down in the shrubbery. The expressions on their faces were mixed curiosity and trepidation – as they had no idea what Michael was going to do. Michael had smeared black shoe polish on his face, dressed in black and tucked his fiery red hair under a black stocking cap.
The boys waited in the bushes while the sun melted into the watery horizon, casting a velvety blue cloak over the tropical sky. Security arrived as the boys waited for them to do their runway clean up.
Once security had made its rounds, Michael snuck from the bushes and made for the center of the runway a few yards from the edge of the cliff.
The other boys watched in wonderment as the reality of what Michael was attempting began to dawn on them. This would be the final initiation for the other boys before they could officially join the Cooter Patrol.
Michael lay down on his belly on the tarmac which still held the heat of the summer tropic sun. He quickly realized that if he lay on his belly – he’d be unable to see the approaching airplane. He flipped over to his back and looked toward the horizon where he could just make out the approaching headlights of the 727.
He took in long deep breaths to calm his racing heart and glanced over at the edge of the runaway where his brothers and the other boys waited and watched in mute anticipation. The plane was approaching rapidly and as Michael looked up, he saw to his horror that the plane was not coming in straight and sure as he thought planes did when looking at them land from the side. The plane was veering from side to side as it navigated its landing – forcing Michael to shift his body first one way then the other as he tried to line himself up with the center of the plane between the wheels. He knew that the back two wheels would hit the tarmac first before the center wheel.
But as that plane approached, getting lower and lower, veering from side to side, Michael knew he had made a mortal error in judgment and that this wasn’t the best idea of his short 16 years.
The wheels struck the tarmac, the engines reversed and every cell in his body screamed in terror as the monstrous machine of death thundered over him. The sounds of screeching wheels and the squealing engine pierced his brain and he quickly shoved his fingers into his ears as his body bounced on the blacktop. Having his fingers shoved inside his ears made absolutely no difference to the level of sound which bombarded him. To this day, he claims his fingertips touched each other as he tried to block the sound of death from liquefying his brains.
And then it was over. The plane was a hundred yards up the runway and Michael lay trembling uncontrollably. Jerry and Merle dashed over to him. Michael could see their mouths moving, but his ears did not recognize the sounds they were making. His brain still vibrating, and his heart trying to disentangle itself from his vocal chords, Michael struggled to sit up. His brothers each took an arm and dragged him off the tarmac.
The other boys were aghast. One of them said, “I ain’t risking my life for your stupid club.” The other boys quickly agreed and hurried away before security came back. To this day, Michael is the one and only official member of the “Cooter Patrol”.
(This is a True Story)
As the son of a government contract worker, my father and his family lived in a government compound in American Samoa. Being 16 years old, Dad, (who I will refer to as Michael from now on), was on of the oldest white kids in the compound and in the pecking order, he was top rooster. Michael had two younger brothers and together they ruled the neighborhood.
The summer of ’67 was particularly boring since Michael and his brothers weren’t allowed to get jobs. They had an immense amount of time on their hands and on a small island, such as American Samoa, it didn’t take very long for them to find trouble.
Several other younger teenage males in the compound looked up to Michael and wanted desperately to belong to his “gang”. Michael, however, was very selective with who he hung out with. These other boys weren’t exactly his cut of beef. However, he couldn’t think of an easy way to get rid of these unwanted tag-alongs. So, Dad started the Cooter Patrol Gang and held initiations.
The first thing the new recruits had to do was steal license plates. See, there are only 3 types of licenses in Samoa. Cargo and/or Passenger. It was a cargo plate if it had a capital C at the beginning and a passenger plate if it had a P. It was the Buses that had the treasured CP on it’s plates. Thus, Cooter Patrol. Of course, Michael wasn’t above performing the initiation himself and soon had a Cargo Plate tacked to the makeshift clubhouse in the jungle behind the compound.
A few days later, several more CP plates appeared on the wall of the club house. That was too easy, thought Michael. After much thought, an idea came to mind. An idea so diabolical, that it would surely weed out the weak-willed, yellow-bellied, toad eating scum who thought they were worthy enough to hang out with Michael.
Michael sent out word to all the wannabes to meet him at the Tafuna Airport at midnight.
American Samoa has only one airport. And it’s tiny. If there were initiations for pilots, landing a Boeing 727 in Samoa had to be it. The runway is very short and ends at the edge of a cliff overlooking the thrashing, chaotic ocean that could pulverize a plane in minutes against the jagged edges of the reef below its frothing, white foam.
Michael arrived with his two younger brothers, Jerry and Merle and hid in the jungle alongside the runway. As midnight approached, Michael awaited the arrival of security which was tasked with driving up and down the runway in an old beat up station wagon, clearing away coconut tree fronds, wild pigs, and other debris.
Soon, the other boys arrived and hunkered down in the shrubbery. The expressions on their faces were mixed curiosity and trepidation – as they had no idea what Michael was going to do. Michael had smeared black shoe polish on his face, dressed in black and tucked his fiery red hair under a black stocking cap.
The boys waited in the bushes while the sun melted into the watery horizon, casting a velvety blue cloak over the tropical sky. Security arrived as the boys waited for them to do their runway clean up.
Once security had made its rounds, Michael snuck from the bushes and made for the center of the runway a few yards from the edge of the cliff.
The other boys watched in wonderment as the reality of what Michael was attempting began to dawn on them. This would be the final initiation for the other boys before they could officially join the Cooter Patrol.
Michael lay down on his belly on the tarmac which still held the heat of the summer tropic sun. He quickly realized that if he lay on his belly – he’d be unable to see the approaching airplane. He flipped over to his back and looked toward the horizon where he could just make out the approaching headlights of the 727.
He took in long deep breaths to calm his racing heart and glanced over at the edge of the runaway where his brothers and the other boys waited and watched in mute anticipation. The plane was approaching rapidly and as Michael looked up, he saw to his horror that the plane was not coming in straight and sure as he thought planes did when looking at them land from the side. The plane was veering from side to side as it navigated its landing – forcing Michael to shift his body first one way then the other as he tried to line himself up with the center of the plane between the wheels. He knew that the back two wheels would hit the tarmac first before the center wheel.
But as that plane approached, getting lower and lower, veering from side to side, Michael knew he had made a mortal error in judgment and that this wasn’t the best idea of his short 16 years.
The wheels struck the tarmac, the engines reversed and every cell in his body screamed in terror as the monstrous machine of death thundered over him. The sounds of screeching wheels and the squealing engine pierced his brain and he quickly shoved his fingers into his ears as his body bounced on the blacktop. Having his fingers shoved inside his ears made absolutely no difference to the level of sound which bombarded him. To this day, he claims his fingertips touched each other as he tried to block the sound of death from liquefying his brains.
And then it was over. The plane was a hundred yards up the runway and Michael lay trembling uncontrollably. Jerry and Merle dashed over to him. Michael could see their mouths moving, but his ears did not recognize the sounds they were making. His brain still vibrating, and his heart trying to disentangle itself from his vocal chords, Michael struggled to sit up. His brothers each took an arm and dragged him off the tarmac.
The other boys were aghast. One of them said, “I ain’t risking my life for your stupid club.” The other boys quickly agreed and hurried away before security came back. To this day, Michael is the one and only official member of the “Cooter Patrol”.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Social Skills for Aspies and Neuro-Typicals
I spent two hours, last Tuesday, at Dr. B’s office as the boys attended Social Group led by Amber, Dr. B’s assistant. Not at the same time, of course. M is in the older group and he went first. The Social Group gives Asperger Kids the chance to learn social skills and is moderated by Amber who gently guides them in their interactions. Which I believe even Neuro-typical kids could benefit from instead of stumbling around and trying to figure it out on their own on the playground.
While M was in his Social Group, my younger two sons, B and J were in an adjoining office playing with toys while my husband and I attended a parent support group in the waiting room. Our parent support group was led by a woman named Lorie, who is a professional in the field of autism.
Lori related to us her experience at a recent conference for Autism. One of the speakers had said, “What do you call a group of ten teenage boys, tackling a kid with Aspergers and expelling an entire can of air freshener on him?” We were silent as we waited for Lorie to continue, wondering what kind of joke this was going to be.
“Natural consequences,” Lori delivered the punch line with a grim face. We responded in disgust. She summarized the message of that particular conference speaker; We, as parents need to hold our autistic children’s feet to the fire and force them to adapt to Neuro-Typical standards on social interaction. A sort of, survival of the fittest, if you will.
Our response was outrage. Lori quickly soothed us and revealed that she did not hold to that line of thinking and she ended up leaving that session of the conference just as disgusted as we were. But she warned us that there were professionals in the field of autism that do believe autistic kids need to take their lumps if they ever hope to fit into society, by forcing them to forsake their uniqueness in order to be considered acceptable.
This revelation gave my husband and me lots to think about. I wondered if exposing my sons to bully’s who didn’t like the way they thought or acted would be in their best interest. The thought sickened me. Are we a civilized society or not? There are other methods to achieving the same goal, I’m sure.
While participating in the Parent Support Group, we were introduced to the concept of the Floortime Approach created by Stanley Greenspan who devoted his life’s work to children’s development. He also wrote the book Engaging Autism, which Lori highly recommended.
We also shared stories of our interactions with our Aspie kids, and laughed at the similarities. Lori has an Aspie son and it was refreshing to know that she too, becomes frustrated sometimes with her child. I didn’t feel like such a horrible parent for struggling with figuring out my children. Disciplining an Aspie child is challenging. I learned that in order to get across to the Aspie child that their behavior is unacceptable (such as picking at the dog’s sore paw) you just have to repeat yourself in a very detailed way several times. Telling my child “No,” just once, is not enough. Unless I explain in detail why the poor behavior is unacceptable and the consequences thereof, my sons will continue in their behavior pattern. And I have to repeat myself multiple times throughout the day, and through the next and so on. We had to give away a few of our pets because our Aspies couldn’t understand why they weren’t allowed to jump on them, pull their tails, or throw them down the stairs. Before the diagnoses of high functioning autism, I thought my sons were born to be naturally cruel. I had envisioned their future lives behind bars! Now I know that autistic kids lack the capacity of empathy. So, we’ve been working on developing a sense of empathy by role playing and constant repetition of what is expected of them.
While M was in his Social Group, my younger two sons, B and J were in an adjoining office playing with toys while my husband and I attended a parent support group in the waiting room. Our parent support group was led by a woman named Lorie, who is a professional in the field of autism.
Lori related to us her experience at a recent conference for Autism. One of the speakers had said, “What do you call a group of ten teenage boys, tackling a kid with Aspergers and expelling an entire can of air freshener on him?” We were silent as we waited for Lorie to continue, wondering what kind of joke this was going to be.
“Natural consequences,” Lori delivered the punch line with a grim face. We responded in disgust. She summarized the message of that particular conference speaker; We, as parents need to hold our autistic children’s feet to the fire and force them to adapt to Neuro-Typical standards on social interaction. A sort of, survival of the fittest, if you will.
Our response was outrage. Lori quickly soothed us and revealed that she did not hold to that line of thinking and she ended up leaving that session of the conference just as disgusted as we were. But she warned us that there were professionals in the field of autism that do believe autistic kids need to take their lumps if they ever hope to fit into society, by forcing them to forsake their uniqueness in order to be considered acceptable.
This revelation gave my husband and me lots to think about. I wondered if exposing my sons to bully’s who didn’t like the way they thought or acted would be in their best interest. The thought sickened me. Are we a civilized society or not? There are other methods to achieving the same goal, I’m sure.
While participating in the Parent Support Group, we were introduced to the concept of the Floortime Approach created by Stanley Greenspan who devoted his life’s work to children’s development. He also wrote the book Engaging Autism, which Lori highly recommended.
We also shared stories of our interactions with our Aspie kids, and laughed at the similarities. Lori has an Aspie son and it was refreshing to know that she too, becomes frustrated sometimes with her child. I didn’t feel like such a horrible parent for struggling with figuring out my children. Disciplining an Aspie child is challenging. I learned that in order to get across to the Aspie child that their behavior is unacceptable (such as picking at the dog’s sore paw) you just have to repeat yourself in a very detailed way several times. Telling my child “No,” just once, is not enough. Unless I explain in detail why the poor behavior is unacceptable and the consequences thereof, my sons will continue in their behavior pattern. And I have to repeat myself multiple times throughout the day, and through the next and so on. We had to give away a few of our pets because our Aspies couldn’t understand why they weren’t allowed to jump on them, pull their tails, or throw them down the stairs. Before the diagnoses of high functioning autism, I thought my sons were born to be naturally cruel. I had envisioned their future lives behind bars! Now I know that autistic kids lack the capacity of empathy. So, we’ve been working on developing a sense of empathy by role playing and constant repetition of what is expected of them.
Monday, February 28, 2011
I'm moving!
To Wordpress that is. My web-designer insisted I make the move - so there I am headed. So, if you'd care to follow me to http://www.jenniferhurst.com/ you'll find the link to my blog and we'll continue the adventures there!
Thanks for reading and visiting!
Thanks for reading and visiting!
Monday's with SPD: What is Stereognosis?
“Huh?” was my first intelligent response when Diane, the occupational therapist who works on my children’s sensory needs, explained Stereognosis to me. She had to repeat herself as I was confused and apparently it was obvious on my very expressive face (don’t ask me to play poker).
“Stereognosis is the ability to identify an object by touch,” she said simply. It’s not that I didn’t understand her the first time – it’s just that the whole concept of not being able to tell what an object is by only feeling it was a whole new concept in regards to my children’s sensory issues. Besides that, the word itself is strange and I had to repeat it to myself several times and have her spell it for me so I could pronounce it correctly.
“So what do you do for it?” I asked, wide-eyed as I tried to imagine what kind of games and activities she must have in her bag of tricks.
She smiled knowingly and produced a large wad of green goop, the kind you find in the toy department. It’s not the slimy, slippery kind. It’s more like play dough that sticks together and doesn’t easily pull apart. Inside she had hidden several small cubes with letters on each side (like the game Boggle). Diane gave the wad of goop to my second son who worked to get each of the cubes out. It took him several minutes, but eventually he found ten cubes. With those ten cubes, Diane helped him spell the word HERMIT CRAB, and then he wrote the word down on a sheet of lined paper.
As a supplemental activity to help the boys develop their sense of stereognosis, Diane suggested using a shoebox filled with rice and hide objects inside. The boys are to try and identify the object before they extract it from the box. My boys love this game. But I’ve learned that it’s best played on a bed sheet because rice gets all over the place and it’s easier to clean up afterwards by just grasping the four corners and funneling it back into the shoebox.
Next time: Handwriting games
Monday, February 14, 2011
Monday's with SPD: Chewy Sticks, Fuzzy Pom-Poms, and sucking yogurt through a straw
Diane handed me a long list of items that she suggested I use for my 2nd son who craves oral sensory stimulation. I cringed at the long list of sugary chewy items, such as gummies, Atomic Balls, Sour Candies, etc. But, then I came to the non-edible items and felt much better. Things like the plastic tubing you use in an aquarium or for your refrigerator's water dispenser is perfect for chewing on. I purchased a two foot long piece from a local hardware store and after sanitizing it, cut some of it into 3 inch lengths and the rest in 6" inch lengths.
The 3 inch pieces I stuck on the ends of the pencils, as both my boys are wont to chew the ends off, including the metal part, and the rest I stuck in a kitchen drawer to hand out when I notice my 2nd start to chew on his shirt sleeves or suck his thumb. My first son isn't so needy now, but he was a die-hard thunmbsucker for years before we got a habit appliance to get him to stop. If only I had known about SPD when he was littler. Both of my boys are Hyposensitive.
The other items on the list included:
How do you know if your child has an Oral Sensory need? This website (http://www.sensory-processing-disorder.com/) has been a great resource for me and the following is from that website.
Oral Sensitivities:
When talking about children with SPD, we refer to two different types of oral sensitivities... hypersensitivity and hyposensitivity.
As you may have already seen from the Sensory Processing Disorders Checklist, children with oral hypersensitivities - also called oral defensiveness - will exhibit many, or all, of the following characteristics:
dislikes having teeth brushed and/or face washed
has a limited food repertoire and/or may avoid certain food textures - especially mixed textures
will take their food off the fork or spoon using only their teeth, keeping their lips retracted
will gag easily when eating and may only get food down by taking a drink with it
may exhibit signs of tactile defensiveness such as; disliking being touched, avoiding messy play - glue, play doh, mud, sand, finger paints, etc. - , or, may not pick up eating utensil or food with a grasp that involves the palm of his hand
In Contrast, Children With Hyposensitivities Will Exhibit Many, Or All, Of The Following Characteristics:
they love and crave intense flavors, i.e., sweet, sour, salty, spicy and usually become "condiment kids"
may actually avoid mixed textures as well since it is difficult to chew and swallow properly when you can't "feel" the food in your mouth correctly
they are the messy eaters; getting food all over their face and/or leaving bits of food in their mouths at the end of a meal
they often take large bites and stuff their mouths, or even "pocket" food in their cheeks
are inclined to not chew their food thoroughly before swallowing (at risk for choking)
drool excessively beyond the teething stage
and, they always seem to have something in their mouths; toys, pens, pencil tips, gum, candy, or inedible objects (i.e., paper clips, rubber bands, shirt sleeves and collars, strings...anything!)
The 3 inch pieces I stuck on the ends of the pencils, as both my boys are wont to chew the ends off, including the metal part, and the rest I stuck in a kitchen drawer to hand out when I notice my 2nd start to chew on his shirt sleeves or suck his thumb. My first son isn't so needy now, but he was a die-hard thunmbsucker for years before we got a habit appliance to get him to stop. If only I had known about SPD when he was littler. Both of my boys are Hyposensitive.
The other items on the list included:
- Vibrating Toothbrush (which I gave them for Christmas - love it!)
- Crunchy fruits and veggies
- Sucking yogurt through a straw (but since we deal with allergies - Diane showed us how to play a game with fuzzy pom-poms you get from a craft store. Suck up a pom-pom on the end of a straw and crawl across the floor to drop it into a container. Repeat).
- Blowing bubbles
How do you know if your child has an Oral Sensory need? This website (http://www.sensory-processing-disorder.com/) has been a great resource for me and the following is from that website.
Oral Sensitivities:
Signs, Symptoms, Causes, And Treatment
When talking about children with SPD, we refer to two different types of oral sensitivities... hypersensitivity and hyposensitivity.
As you may have already seen from the Sensory Processing Disorders Checklist, children with oral hypersensitivities - also called oral defensiveness - will exhibit many, or all, of the following characteristics:
In Contrast, Children With Hyposensitivities Will Exhibit Many, Or All, Of The Following Characteristics:
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Aloha Fridays: "No, Dad. It's ALL wet!"
Easter Sunday, 1992.
Amouli, American Samoa
My 9 year old brother, Rick (not his real name), woke up bright and early Easter Sunday with a very important message for my parents.
"Dad," he said as he approached my parent's bed. Dad cracked an eye to peer at Rick.
"What?" he groaned.
"My bed is wet," Rick whispered.
"Just put a towel over it and go back to bed," Dad grumped and rolled over to go back to sleep.
"No, Dad. It's ALL wet," Rick persisted.
Dad groaned and wondered how much water the kid had drunk the night before. How could his whole bed be wet? Dad sat up and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. Splash - splash.
"What the . . .?" Dad stared in shock at the 4 inches of water covering the floor. In his half-sleep state, he gawked at Rick as if somehow this child was responsible for the amount of water on the floor. As soon as Dad's neuron's started firing correctly, he realized this wasn't a matter of an over active bladder, but the result of excessive rain on the mountain behind us that had sent a flash flood through our house.
I was asleep on my large purple pillow of a mat on the floor by the front door when Dad came into the living room hollering at us to get up that we had been flooded. Drowsily, I threw an arm over the puffy side of my mat and splashed water with my open hand. It woke me up instantly and by the time I had gotten to my feet, the rest of my siblings were awake and exclaiming in excitement over the water.
It was a beautiful day, but when we stepped outside to survey the rest of the village that lay 4 feet lower than our house, a neighbor wallowed through the flood to ask if we were okay. We were indeed better off than most of our neighbors, but all our beds were soaked.
I helped dragged everyone's sleeping pillows out of the house and heaved them onto the clothesline to dry. Then we spent the rest of the morning cleaning the mud and debris out of the house which included water logged rats, hermit crabs, bugs, garbage and the like. Needless to say, the Easter Bunny didn't visit us that year.
Mom tried to come up with something positive about the whole situation, but, I don't remember what it was. I do remember that the younger kids had a blast playing in the muddy water in our front yard.
Amouli, American Samoa
My 9 year old brother, Rick (not his real name), woke up bright and early Easter Sunday with a very important message for my parents.
"Dad," he said as he approached my parent's bed. Dad cracked an eye to peer at Rick.
"What?" he groaned.
"My bed is wet," Rick whispered.
"Just put a towel over it and go back to bed," Dad grumped and rolled over to go back to sleep.
"No, Dad. It's ALL wet," Rick persisted.
Dad groaned and wondered how much water the kid had drunk the night before. How could his whole bed be wet? Dad sat up and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. Splash - splash.
"What the . . .?" Dad stared in shock at the 4 inches of water covering the floor. In his half-sleep state, he gawked at Rick as if somehow this child was responsible for the amount of water on the floor. As soon as Dad's neuron's started firing correctly, he realized this wasn't a matter of an over active bladder, but the result of excessive rain on the mountain behind us that had sent a flash flood through our house.
I was asleep on my large purple pillow of a mat on the floor by the front door when Dad came into the living room hollering at us to get up that we had been flooded. Drowsily, I threw an arm over the puffy side of my mat and splashed water with my open hand. It woke me up instantly and by the time I had gotten to my feet, the rest of my siblings were awake and exclaiming in excitement over the water.
It was a beautiful day, but when we stepped outside to survey the rest of the village that lay 4 feet lower than our house, a neighbor wallowed through the flood to ask if we were okay. We were indeed better off than most of our neighbors, but all our beds were soaked.
I helped dragged everyone's sleeping pillows out of the house and heaved them onto the clothesline to dry. Then we spent the rest of the morning cleaning the mud and debris out of the house which included water logged rats, hermit crabs, bugs, garbage and the like. Needless to say, the Easter Bunny didn't visit us that year.
Mom tried to come up with something positive about the whole situation, but, I don't remember what it was. I do remember that the younger kids had a blast playing in the muddy water in our front yard.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Wednesday at the Kitchen Table: The best Kitchen Table on the Planet
What does your kitchen table look like? I'm on a quest to see what Kitchen Tables around the world look like. Aren't you curious too? I mean, what does a typical kitchen table look like in Japan? What is served for dinner on it? What about New Guinea? Or Peru? or Bulgaria? or Hawaii?
Send me your photos of your kitchen table laid out with your family's favorite meal or family activity. Tell me where you are from and share a recipe! I'm looking for Kitchen Tables from around the world - won't you share yours with us? I'd like to see some celebrity kitchen tables, too. No Martha Stewart wannabees please. Just your typical meal or family activity on your Kitchen Table.
Send your photo (and recipes if you wish) to me at jc_hurst AT comcast DOT net.
Until next time, eat well, be well and be happy!
Send me your photos of your kitchen table laid out with your family's favorite meal or family activity. Tell me where you are from and share a recipe! I'm looking for Kitchen Tables from around the world - won't you share yours with us? I'd like to see some celebrity kitchen tables, too. No Martha Stewart wannabees please. Just your typical meal or family activity on your Kitchen Table.
Send your photo (and recipes if you wish) to me at jc_hurst AT comcast DOT net.
Until next time, eat well, be well and be happy!
Tuesdays Review: FORD 2011 Explorer
My recent dream car was the 2011 Honda Odyssey. No more. After my husband brought home the 2011 Ford Explorer from work to try out for a few weeks, its goodbye Honda, helloooo Fordykins! That's my pet name for this gorgeous vehicle - Fordykins.
I am by no means a car expert. I don't know a head gasket from a transmission case, let alone know where to put the oil after I've undipped the oil tester thingy. All I do know is how to use the pedals and turn the wheel and if you show me where to put the gas, I'm good to go.
So, in climbing behind the wheel of this sleek, wide, black vehicle, the first impression I had was I felt so skinny. There is ALOT of elbow room in there. You could put three of me in the driver's seat. I wonder if Ford is trying to accommodate the extra large American market. I'm a medium sized American (the equivalent of an overweight European).
Then of course, I turned it on. I could hardly hear the motor. I put in in reverse and all of a sudden a screen on the console above the gear shifter came alive to show me what was behind me as I backed out. In color, no less, with guidelines. Sweet, I thought.
It handled beautifully. I didn't feel like I was driving a huge monstrous tank, even though it seats 7. My kids had plenty of room in the back to stretch out and nobody could complain about someone else touching them. I had to use the seat adjuster to lift me higher so I could see over the dashboard, but the seats are comfortable and heated too! And get this, the passenger and driver each get their own climate controlled area. So, my husband isn't forced to endure the furnace I like to be in when outside in this bleak winter weather.
The only thing I had an issue with, is the humongous amount of computerized gadgets and gizmos this thing has. It is literally a moving computer that can send and receive emails, and even read them to you. Once, when my husband took us on an errand and ran inside a building to meet with a business contact for a few minutes, I decided to change the station on the radio. After staring at the computer screen on the dashboard for 5 minutes, I noticed buttons on the steering wheel and remembered I could control the volume and stations of the radio there. I figured, why not, since the steering wheel had fewer buttons to push than the console, so I started pushing buttons and all of a sudden, a telephone ring filled the car. I glanced at the computer screen as the ring sounded again and to my horror the screen showed I was calling one of my husband's business associates.
"Where's the off button!" I cried as my kids started laughing, thinking it absolutely funny that the car was like a giant cell phone and Mom couldn't figure out how to cancel the call. I don't know which button I pushed to cancel it, but I disconnected before anyone answered. I never did figure out how to operate the radio. I guess I'll have to let my husband control the radio. The Ford Explorer does have a really neat gadget that I really like. You can plug your iPhone into the car and play Pandora. The vehicle has fantastic acoustics.
Overall, I was very delighted with the Ford 2011 Explorer. My husband says it gets great mileage for a vehicle its size. I don't care, he buys the gas, I just play chauffeur and if I have to spend hours in a car, I'd rather spend it in comfort. Now, if only it had a a self cleaning option with a built in fridge and microwave. Or, better yet, an auto pilot, so I can get my naps in before swim lessons.
I give the Ford 2011 Explorer, the Unicorn Award.
I am by no means a car expert. I don't know a head gasket from a transmission case, let alone know where to put the oil after I've undipped the oil tester thingy. All I do know is how to use the pedals and turn the wheel and if you show me where to put the gas, I'm good to go.
So, in climbing behind the wheel of this sleek, wide, black vehicle, the first impression I had was I felt so skinny. There is ALOT of elbow room in there. You could put three of me in the driver's seat. I wonder if Ford is trying to accommodate the extra large American market. I'm a medium sized American (the equivalent of an overweight European).
Then of course, I turned it on. I could hardly hear the motor. I put in in reverse and all of a sudden a screen on the console above the gear shifter came alive to show me what was behind me as I backed out. In color, no less, with guidelines. Sweet, I thought.
It handled beautifully. I didn't feel like I was driving a huge monstrous tank, even though it seats 7. My kids had plenty of room in the back to stretch out and nobody could complain about someone else touching them. I had to use the seat adjuster to lift me higher so I could see over the dashboard, but the seats are comfortable and heated too! And get this, the passenger and driver each get their own climate controlled area. So, my husband isn't forced to endure the furnace I like to be in when outside in this bleak winter weather.
The only thing I had an issue with, is the humongous amount of computerized gadgets and gizmos this thing has. It is literally a moving computer that can send and receive emails, and even read them to you. Once, when my husband took us on an errand and ran inside a building to meet with a business contact for a few minutes, I decided to change the station on the radio. After staring at the computer screen on the dashboard for 5 minutes, I noticed buttons on the steering wheel and remembered I could control the volume and stations of the radio there. I figured, why not, since the steering wheel had fewer buttons to push than the console, so I started pushing buttons and all of a sudden, a telephone ring filled the car. I glanced at the computer screen as the ring sounded again and to my horror the screen showed I was calling one of my husband's business associates.
"Where's the off button!" I cried as my kids started laughing, thinking it absolutely funny that the car was like a giant cell phone and Mom couldn't figure out how to cancel the call. I don't know which button I pushed to cancel it, but I disconnected before anyone answered. I never did figure out how to operate the radio. I guess I'll have to let my husband control the radio. The Ford Explorer does have a really neat gadget that I really like. You can plug your iPhone into the car and play Pandora. The vehicle has fantastic acoustics.
Overall, I was very delighted with the Ford 2011 Explorer. My husband says it gets great mileage for a vehicle its size. I don't care, he buys the gas, I just play chauffeur and if I have to spend hours in a car, I'd rather spend it in comfort. Now, if only it had a a self cleaning option with a built in fridge and microwave. Or, better yet, an auto pilot, so I can get my naps in before swim lessons.
I give the Ford 2011 Explorer, the Unicorn Award.
Mondays with SPD: Lets shake the house down!
"How loud can you jump?" Diane, our Occupational Therapist, challenged my three boys. My boys literally jumped on the opportunity to try and break the sound barrier on my hardwood floors. After a few floor jarring moments of hard jumping, Diane challenged them to "make the room bigger" by pushing on the walls. My 7 year old was convinced he had managed to make my living room a few feet wider all by himself.
Why, might you ask, are my children trying to bring my house down? Well, as Diane explained, these exercises are great for the Proprioceptive stimulation, both for Sensory Seekers and Sensory Avoiders, of which I am mother to both.
I'm struggling to keep up with the deep pressure brushing and joint compressions every four hours for both the boys. I have noticed a big difference in their behaviour when I do manage to do the DPBs and JCs. Bed time is easier, they are more calm and relaxed, and there is less "bothersome activity" that the boys engage in to peeve one another.
I'm looking into dietary changes as my second son has a sensitive system and Diane said that SPD kids tend to have weak muscle tone inside and out. So, digestion is a bit of a problem, which would explain the tummy aches after certain meals. Diane suggested pro-biotics which can be purchased at health food stores.
Why, might you ask, are my children trying to bring my house down? Well, as Diane explained, these exercises are great for the Proprioceptive stimulation, both for Sensory Seekers and Sensory Avoiders, of which I am mother to both.
I'm struggling to keep up with the deep pressure brushing and joint compressions every four hours for both the boys. I have noticed a big difference in their behaviour when I do manage to do the DPBs and JCs. Bed time is easier, they are more calm and relaxed, and there is less "bothersome activity" that the boys engage in to peeve one another.
I'm looking into dietary changes as my second son has a sensitive system and Diane said that SPD kids tend to have weak muscle tone inside and out. So, digestion is a bit of a problem, which would explain the tummy aches after certain meals. Diane suggested pro-biotics which can be purchased at health food stores.
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