A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words

For those of you who follow my blog, you know I can ramble on and on sometimes...okay, most of the time. With that said, and to lighten the mood after my previous, rather heavy, post, I give you the following photos. I think they say enough, but I should mention that the first one was written sometime around July or August, 2013!  The card was handmade by my son (with a little help from Grandma), and the letter/thoughts were all his doing without any prompting. Enjoy!

Not sure if he was planning to be good for the last two months before Christmas or just August and September!

I'm guessing he was going to be good November and December...still waiting on the verdict...

Since this will probably be my last post in 2013, and because I know everyone checks back daily, I leave you with the following (scroll to the appropriate wish each day and it will be like a new entry!)



Happy Hanukkah!!!


Merry Christmas!!!


Happy Kwanzaa!!!


Happy New Year!!!



and just in case....Happy Valentine's Day!!!  ---%-@  <---that's supposed to be a rose. :)



Whatever you celebrate, I wish you the best, and, as always, thanks for reading!



Disclaimer...(Yes, its a repeat of the last one...but the blog above is new!) First, let me say that I am not a specialist in Asperger's Syndrome, nor do I play one on TV. What I write or say are strictly my own personal observations and beliefs, so please do not sue me because I said something that made you do something that caused a misdiagnosis, or created a problem, or made you do something stupid. Have accountability, go see a professional, and leave my finances alone...besides, you really wouldn't get much anyway, so its probably not worth your time to call the lawyer on the back of the phone book to see if you have a case. Spend that time more wisely, like figuring out how to subscribe to my blog...and don't ask me about that because I'm not even sure how it works! Seriously, though, if some of the things I say seem like they sound very familiar in your family, set up an appointment with a true professional. While you are waiting for their callback, please, continue reading and leave a note!

Didn't see that one coming

This past October, my wife and I received some amazing news...the test showed a positive sign...as did the second test she took just to be sure. I was on the verge of convincing her to take a third test, you know, just to be sure...oh, wait, that was what the second test was for, wasn't it?

It wasn't that I was not excited (I was extremely excited...and nervous...and happy...and confused...and thrilled...and wondering what the hell we were doing having a kid in our forties...and nervous...but mostly really really excited), it was that I grew up in a generation where women went to the doctors to get a blood test before they found out if she was pregnant or not. Although they are very accurate, I still did not trust the over-the-counter pee-stick...I mean, come on, pee on a stick to see if you are preggers???  What's next? A phone that takes photos or plays music? Ha!  Yeah, right!

Let's take a step back for a moment...back to the moment I found out for the first time. As I was preparing dinner, Jane asked me to go upstairs to the bathroom and grab something off the counter. I briefly thought to myself, "Why don't you go get it, I'm cooking dinner...geez!" but my smart brain kicked in, just in time, and said, "Yes, dear." When I arrived, I noticed a stick sitting on a piece of open wrapping. Being the observant and curious one, I looked at it.  There it was, a pee stick. I have seen them before, so I was not surprised to see it there, but just for giggles, I picked it up. As my fingers touched the handle of the stick, I saw the "+"...

So, here I am, about to pick up a stick that has just been peed on, having a million emotions from all ends of the emotion spectrum blazing through my little brain, not knowing which emotion to hold on to, wondering when we can share the news, planning how we will share the news, thinking, "nah, its a false positive", wondering, "how are we going to do this?', planning the call to Auntie, to whom I promised seven years ago she would be the first to know, looking in the mirror and seeing my happy face - which doesn't appear often enough, and at one point, even wondering whose test this was since it clearly must belong to someone else (not really sure why I thought that last one, but I did). By the time my fingers actually lifted the stick off of the counter, my brain was exhausted.

In the next few days, Jane and I talked about names, genders, possibilities - both good and bad, when do we make the announcement, how we tell our 12 year old son, and quite possibly the most important thing in her eyes - which books to buy.  The first three days were completely consumed with baby talk. She and I both knew it was going to be a girl, so we concentrated on the girl names. It was then that we both noticed that girl names are so much more interesting and cooler than boy names.  We developed a list of possibilities, eventually deciding on Farren Delaney.

Farren means bold traveler, or adventurous. Lately, it seems our lives are in a prelude to much larger adventures. Time will tell. Delaney means dark challenger...yeah, not so thrilled with the challenger part, but the reason we chose Delaney was because of "De" meaning "of" and "La" part of "Larry" and "aney" part of "Jane"...thus, "of Larry and Jane"...Delaney...get it?

So at this time, we decided we needed to tell our son. As an Aspie, he does not like to be surprised with sudden changes, but as our son he has grown accustomed to some changes through practice and teachings from us; however, this would not be a little change in plans, no, this was a HUGE change in plans. We planned to video record his reaction, and we did, but I won't post it here since he was walking around in his PJs (underwear and one of my old tee-shirts), but I will try to describe it for you.

We learned that at that particular time, Farren would be about the size of a grain of rice. Which, even now, completely amazes me that something so incredibly magical can start off so small. Jane picked out a cute little grain of brown rice and laid her down in a cozy little ramekin. Grant sat down on the couch, wondering why we called him downstairs before bedtime. As Jane and Grant sat next to each other, I filmed (although I'm not sure I can call it filming anymore since it was done with my phone...) Jane placing the little piece of rice into Grant's 12 year old hand. Jane asked, "Do you know what it is?" to which Grant replied, "Its a grain of rice."

As he inspected the grain with puzzlement, Jane opened an app on her phone that shows the progression of birth by the week. Once the drawing of the baby was visible on the screen, Jane turned the phone to Grant who then said, "What's that? It looks like a whale."  Jane replied, "It's an embryo. It's about six weeks old. Do you know how big they are?" Grant replied, "No." "What's in your hand?" asked Jane. "A grain of rice." said Grant. Jane followed up with, "So that's how big your little baby brother or sister is at this point."

"WHAT?!?!?" Grant excitedly replied. Jane started giggling and Grant continued with, "Mom! What? I'm having a brother? Really??? Mom?" Jane replied with, "It might be a sister, too!" At this point he stood up, clearly thrilled with the idea and said, "I'm going to be a big brother or sister!" After the laughter of that last comment, and his realization of what he just said, and with his hands on top of his head in the "I can't believe this" pose, he looked at Jane and calmly said, "Am I dreaming?"

At this point, his brain began to fully understand what was happening. He told Jane she was going to be a mommy again and looked a bit worried. When Jane asked how he felt about all of this, "Scared." was his only answer. Trust me kid, I know what you mean! The amazement and happiness were still there, but they began to break up into pieces with the voids being replaced by concern. Grant leaned into Jane and the flood gates opened up.

"I don't want to be a big brother." he cried. "Why not?" we both asked. "Because I'm scared." he said. The funny thing is, everyone of our friends and colleagues who have seen him in action have commented on how great he does with younger kids...even babies. He is a natural. One day, he is going to be an amazing father.

So, in a matter of three minutes, his emotions went from puzzlement, then to happiness, then to worry. I stopped recording at that point, but the story doesn't end here.  What happened next is what I found to be very interesting and what I would guess is an Aspie trait...but I could be wrong - it might just be a 12 year old trait, or maybe just a typical response to big changes.  Who knows?

Over the course of the next few weeks, we called my aunt and uncle first to share the news (I finally was able to keep my promise), then my folks, had a doctor's visit, told a select few friends, and planned on how we would tell my sisters and Jane's family. With each phone call Grant was thrilled to share the news. His worry seemed to have subsided back into excitement.

As the seasons began to change, Grant started complaining about a headache. I attributed it to the pressure changes and seasonal issues. The leaves were falling, the rain came and went, and the temperatures fluctuated often. His demeanor was also changing with Mother Nature. A week or so went by, and his headaches continued. During this time, Jane and I began to realize Farren may not make it to full term. With our worries, even though we tried to remain positive and lighthearted around Grant, added to the mix, it was pretty clear Grant was experiencing a myriad of emotions.

Grant took it upon himself to find a diagnosis for his constant headaches. One day he had a brain tumor, the next he thought his scratched glasses were the cause. Another day he chalked it up to falling asleep a half hour later than usual, and the next he blamed the soccer ball that he headed at recess one day. He stayed with the brain tumor for a while and it was at this point I took him to see the doctor.

When the doctor entered the examining room, she had already been briefed by me about the many changes going on in our lives. She asked the typical questions, probed the typical orifices,and examined the typical things you examine. Diagnosis: no brain tumor. Headaches related to tension. Almost immediately, the 500 pound weight was lifted from this little boy's shoulders.

Over the next few days, his headaches were disappearing, but so was something else; Farren. After three visits to the doctor's office, it became more apparent that Farren would not get to see me cry rivers of happy tears when she arrived sometime in mid-2014. Once faced with the realization, we decided we should inform Grant. As heavy as the conversation was, the little guy handled it quite well. Although relieved, his empathy for our loss was heartfelt and amazingly sincere for a 12 year old Aspie; however, in the end, I believe he was more relieved than sad - which we explained to him was perfectly normal.

Although Farren Delaney never made it into my arms, in the short time she was with us she taught us more than we could have learned in years of experience. In addition to my wife's life changing lessons, and my realization of where I am in my life and where I want to be in the near future, she taught us that Grant is still a young guy who may not always get the correct diagnosis from WebMd, but that he will persevere and he is a well grounded individual who is very empathetic and pretty deep for a 12 year old Aspie.

We won't try again, which was a difficult decision for both Jane and I to make, but after realizing the Universe has other plans for us, such as focusing on raising a child who will grow up to be someone very special to the world, we figured it was best to quit while we were ahead. That and we only have six more years to go before Grant is off to college and Jane and I can vacation in south France without having to explain to a young boy why only the bottoms of the bathing suits are worn over there! 




Disclaimer...(Yes, its a repeat of the last one...but the blog above is new!) First, let me say that I am not a specialist in Asperger's Syndrome, nor do I play one on TV. What I write or say are strictly my own personal observations and beliefs, so please do not sue me because I said something that made you do something that caused a misdiagnosis, or created a problem, or made you do something stupid. Have accountability, go see a professional, and leave my finances alone...besides, you really wouldn't get much anyway, so its probably not worth your time to call the lawyer on the back of the phone book to see if you have a case. Spend that time more wisely, like figuring out how to subscribe to my blog...and don't ask me about that because I'm not even sure how it works! Seriously, though, if some of the things I say seem like they sound very familiar in your family, set up an appointment with a true professional. While you are waiting for their callback, please, continue reading and leave a note!

Do you want a Band-Aid for that splintered femur?

I have been trying to think of a way to approach a specific topic for the past few days, and although I have thought of many possibilities, none seem to work. Therefore, I am just going to get on my soapbox and chat away.  This topic has been on Facebook, MSN, and every newspaper in the US (and probably many media sources overseas), for years, but most recently it seems to have taken a shot of that 5-hour energy drink because I am seeing it everywhere I turn. The topic I am referring to is gun control. Whether you are for or against gun control, please read this entry in its entirety before jumping to conclusions or sticking to a particular stance.

Now, I know what you are thinking...you are talking to your computer screen saying, "but, Larry, your blog is about your son who has Asperger's and not about gun control. This makes no sense and you shouldn't be talking about that sort of thing here!"  That might be true, but this is my blog and I can cry if I want to!  Okay, back to being serious...just give me a chance to explain my logic...and I think you will discover how gun control relates to Aspies.

If you know me, you know that I do not care for or follow politics. I do not believe there is an absolute right or wrong way to do something.  Some see that as accepting and some see that as non-committal.  You can pick which one you think it is. But, I do, wholeheartedly, believe our politicians (and many citizens) would rather put a Band-Aid on a splintered femur just to say they did something to help the problem. Yeah, you wasted time, money, and resources and guess what, that broken femur is still broken and hurts like hell when you move it. Why not address the problem at its root? If you don't, the problem keeps coming back.

Here's one, one day I was driving down the highway with my son.  We were on our way to school, the traffic was bad, but I was still traveling at or around the speed limit.  I suddenly heard what appeared to be a massive "clank" followed by a "bang" then a rhythmic "clop...clop...clop...clop."  I looked in my rear-view mirror and noticed some type of automotive part flopping around the asphalt, bouncing forward trying desperately to catch up to no avail. When it realized the attempt to reunite with its other family members was futile, it lay slumped in despair, hugging the yellow line for comfort, only to be squashed by an 18-wheeler going 70 mph.

The "clop...clop...clop...clop" carried on and would not go away.  There must be a serious problem, I thought. The noise is not going away, the part clearly came from my car, but I am still moving forward so it can't be that bad. The constant noise then became irritating.  I need to fix this problem, I thought, and quickly. At this time, I discovered the solution...I turned up the radio loud enough where I no longer heard that dreadful "clop...clop...clop...clop." Problem solved!

Pretty silly, isn't it.  I solved the problem by pretending the clopping sound wasn't there and replaced it with the radio.  I put a Band-Aid on the problem. Guess what, it didn't fix a damn thing.

But, Larry, how does this relate to gun control?  Glad you asked. But first, let's look at these mass-shootings and where the gun violence is coming from. In Connecticut (Sandy Hook), the shooter was an Aspie, or at the very least, had mental health issues that were noticed in previous years but, apparently, were not correctly treated.  In the Navy Yard shootings, the gunman was previously released from the Navy after showing patterns of misbehavior aka potential behavioral health issues. In 2012, a gunman whose lawyers described him as having a mental illness, shot over 80 people, killing 12, in a theater. Obviously this is just a sampling of many other events such as these, but the similarities should be obvious - they all had some sort of mental / behavioral health issue.

It has been reported that 75% of all gun related deaths are gang related. I'm just guessing on this one, but, I don't think any of the guns used by gangs are registered. Okay, maybe a handful might be registered, but do you really think gun control will affect gangs? Yeah, probably not.

Australia put into place a strict gun control policy that eliminated private gun ownership.  The idea was to curb violent crimes and gun related crimes in the country. I believe in facts, so what I am about to write needs a disclaimer - I did not take the time to verify the following information and cannot validate its accuracy nor do I know when the information was first published; however, from the time the gun ban started until the time of the news report in Australia, armed robbery had risen 69%, assault with a gun went up 28%, gun related murders went up 19% and home invasions increased by 21%. Hmmm, that one didn't turn out the way they had planned, did it?  The real question is, where did the criminals get all of these guns if they were banned?  Clearly, "eliminating" guns did not work. 

So, by now you probably think I am against gun control.  Well, yes, but that is NOT the issue here.  Applying gun control is putting a Band-Aid on a much more serious issue.  The real issue is mental health. While we are putting all of our time, effort, and money into debating the gun control issues, the mental health issues get put aside.

In addition, there is the term "slippery slope"  If every gun, registered or not, magically disappeared today, do you think the killings would stop? No, because knives, baseball bats, iron poles, swords, arrows, and so on still exist, as do the mental health issues. Does this mean we should ban knives, too? Would that mean I would have to turn in my 14 inch chopping knife that I use for meal prep?  Hmmm, no more baseball bats? The problem is not the weapon.  The weapon is a tool at rest at all times until someone uses that tool. The problem, therefore, is the user. Fix the disease, not the symptom.

We do not put Band-Aids on broken limbs and turning up the radio will not fix a car problem. If a problem itself is not addressed, the problem will never go away. Tools are not the problem, the user is the problem.  Fix the user and the rest will follow.








Disclaimer...(Yes, its a repeat of the last one...but the blog above is new!) First, let me say that I am not a specialist in Asperger's Syndrome, nor do I play one on TV. What I write or say are strictly my own personal observations and beliefs, so please do not sue me because I said something that made you do something that caused a misdiagnosis, or created a problem, or made you do something stupid. Have accountability, go see a professional, and leave my finances alone...besides, you really wouldn't get much anyway, so its probably not worth your time to call the lawyer on the back of the phone book to see if you have a case. Spend that time more wisely, like figuring out how to subscribe to my blog...and don't ask me about that because I'm not even sure how it works! Seriously, though, if some of the things I say seem like they sound very familiar in your family, set up an appointment with a true professional. While you are waiting for their callback, please, continue reading and leave a note!

What just happened?

Wow. What just happened?  A year and a half went by in the blink of an eye...I should have been fired a long time ago.  Almost a year and a half without an entry...shame on me.  I do have a pretty good excuse, though.  Let me tell you about it...

Oh, and this post will have nothing to do with Asperger's...aside from the fact that it's just a glimpse of "normal" family life (is there ever a normal?)...This one is just me filling in the blank year. (Ugh. Year. Where did the time go?)

As you may or may not know, we moved to North Carolina a while back (three years ago October 1st).  We had been renting a house and looking to purchase our own place.  Our lease on the rental was coming to an end and we were extremely anxious to get out of the "crap shack" as my son so eloquently put it one day.  He did not exaggerate either.  To be honest, he may have given it too much praise with his description.

At one time, it was a beautiful home, but the slum-lord, uh, I mean landlord, neglected the home so much the problems were not easily seen until we had moved in - things like, leaking windows, leaking roof, furnace not working, refrigerator dying on us the day before Christmas, and so on became apparent as the days went on.  This place is also where my wife fell down the steps and broke her ankle in three places four months after moving in - so the mojo/juju/lovely home-sweet-home feeling was definitely not there for her. In addition, this is where we first started the "steps" for our son, so he was not too thrilled with that place either.  Me?  Well, I had a garage to store my non-running Jeep, so I was happy there...more or less.

Needless to say, we were all anxious to find a place of our own.  Early in the year, we began our search.  We looked at homes five miles to fifty miles away from where the rental home was.  Our search led us to a mountain retreat setting smack dab in the middle of town to a home in the neighboring county.  The only home, in my opinion, that was in the running was the mountain retreat home...but there was a catch.

The mountain retreat home was, literally, walking distance from the shopping center and main thoroughfare.  It was 4000+ square feet (about 2000 more than what we need) of beautiful hardwood floors, five bedrooms, three levels, a bonus room, a huge kitchen, and a view that would knock your socks off.  Deer, horses, hawks, and a number of other furry creatures roamed the spacious back yard...which was plainly visible from every room in the house (except for those up front, of course). No other home could be seen from any window...it was a bit of heaven.

However...it was a short sale...and it needed some work...okay, it needed A LOT of work...new roof, new windows, new exterior everything.  The house was falling apart, but the inside was in good shape...except for the extreme need of updated appliances.  The asking price was within our budget and well below market value, so, we put in an offer...

When we did not hear anything for a few days, our agent called the listing agent and learned it would take six to eight weeks to hear back from the bank...huh?  Really?  And they wonder why they are having problems with all of the foreclosures and short-sales?  Really?  Come on, folks.

About the time we made an offer, we looked at another home.  This one was not as big (but still much bigger than we need) and did not have the scenery, but it had a large semi-flat yard, was in a beautiful neighborhood, and the investment opportunity was huge.  My wife loved it, I liked it, and my son...well, one day he liked it, the next he hated it (I think one of the reasons for the hate was because it has two sets of stairs), so his vote didn't count. :)  We went back a few times to look and each time, it felt more and more like home.  Yes, it needed some work, but not nearly as much as the mountain retreat home.  Well, that is what we thought, anyway...

When I told the real estate agent to be certain to include the John Deere riding mower in with the offer (there was NO way I was going to use my 19 inch push mower on almost an acre of land!), he looked at me like I had three heads. The offer was a bit low so we figured a counter offer would come in shortly. In the meantime, we had an inspection completed; which I was a part of since I was, at that time, attending class to become a licensed inspector. With my teacher performing the primary inspection, a trainee following along on his own, and my rookie eyes, we would know exactly what we were getting...or so we thought. 

The inspection came back with around 35 items that needed to be attended to.  Of those 35 items, only 5 were significant enough to cause a concern. Malfunctioning toilets were not on the list. This was exactly what I had hoped for - a list of silly items that were easy enough for me to fix, but sounded bad enough to decrease the purchase price, or, in other words, a bargaining chip, or 30.  So, we contacted the seller, explained the "problems" and went back to negotiating. Eventually, we all came to an agreement, and we were on our way to buying our "Forever Home" in North Carolina.

Being the easy-going guy that I am, there were only two things I specifically wanted...1. the riding mower, and 2. the settlement date could not, under any circumstances, be on April 13th (which happened to be a Friday that year). April 12th, no problem.  April 16th, sure.  April 9th, absolutely. As a matter of fact, the ninth was the chosen date and everyone was in agreement, except for the financial bozos - who, I might add, had almost six months to prepare for this.  Apparently, they needed six months and four days...

So, at 5:30 pm on April 13th, my wife, son, and I (no, our agent didn't make it) headed to the lawyer's office to sign the paperwork. I guess looking at it in baseball terms, I was doing pretty good batting 1 for 2, or .500 for an average. I will consider the mower a triple, but the settlement date was a strike-out turned into a triple play by the other team, so that .500 average is a bit inflated.  Perhaps you might notice I am sports oriented and therefore, by default, a bit superstitious.  Needless to say, I was not happy about settling on a "Forever House" on a Friday the 13th.  But, superstitions are just silly mental blocks, right?

At this point, one might assume all went well...you know what happens when you assume things, right?  We found out the sellers had already signed the paperwork and, therefore, were not present.  Then we found out we did not receive almost $6,000 we were promised for repairs at settlement.  Think it stops here?  Not hardly...next, we discovered if we did not sign the contract, we could be held liable and could be in big trouble.  We were stuck between a rock and a hard place. On one hand, we might not ever see the 6k, on the other, we might lose the house and still have to pay for everything, and on yet another (yes, I know that makes three hands, silly), we did not really have a choice at this point.  But wait, there's more...

So the paperwork is signed, the documents copied, and the lawyer says thank you for doing business with her and have a great weekend...wait a minute, don't we get keys, or something like that?  At 7:00 pm on Friday the 13th of April, the lawyer says, no, I do not have any keys to give you.  Lovely. 

Being the observant one, and one to ask a multitude of what appear to be silly and useless questions, I learned early on during the whole process what the combination to the key box was, so I was not terribly worried about getting in.  We had already decided to change the locks immediately after moving in so the lack of a key was not terribly significant.  At this point, it was just par for the course.

The first thing I did when I got to our new home was check the garage.  Okay, phew, the mower is still there!  Woohoo!  Maybe there is hope after all!  The three of us took our first tour in our new home (we didn't own it the first nine times we looked at it!  Geez, do I have to explain everything to you?  Come on, stick with the group!), excited to take possession, despite the near FUBAR we had just experienced.  One of us, and I honestly do not remember which one of us, decided to plant the flag, so to speak, in the upstairs bathroom.  Yes, this was truly OUR home now. 

About 45 minutes later, we decided we should get something to eat.  At dinner we each took turns discussing our plans, wish lists, and projects we planned to do with the house.  Pool, second garage/workshop/pool house, new roof, new deck, new windows, bump outs, painting, and many more ideas were thrown out there. Most were dreams, some were practical, some were necessities, others were pretty far-fetched. We had it all planned out...but we forgot it was Friday the 13th, and we didn't have the $6,000, nor did we have any keys...but we owned the house!

Saturday morning on the 14th, I rolled out of bed, way too early.  I was on my way to my inspection class at the local community college; yes, the same one I spoke about earlier with the home inspection.  Half way through the class, I realized I had a voice mail.  Since I did not have service inside the classroom, I have no idea when the actual call was made; but regardless of the time, I soon realized it was an urgent message.  My wife had called to say that she and Grant were at the house and the ceiling in the kitchen is leaking - get here quickly.  On a good day with no traffic, I would be 30 minutes away.  I immediately called her back, discovered the toilet (yes, the one we "planted the flag" in) was overflowing, and was coming through the ceiling in the kitchen, leaking all over the hardwood floors.  Actually, when I say leaking, I should say it looked like a waterfall after the winter's thaw in some northern territory's mountain range...yes, it was a steady pour, not a leak.  I tried to explain to my wife how to turn off the water to the toilet to minimize the damage but the old plumbing would not budge for her.  I told her to gather anything available (fortunately, the previous owners left a bunch of buckets - among other odds and ends) to catch the water and I would be there as soon as I could.  I made it home in 18 minutes that day.

After turning off the water upstairs, I cut an eight by eight foot section of saturated ceiling Sheetrock to help dry out the area. On a positive note, I learned which way the floor joists were laid...of course I could have figured that out without the leak, but I digress.  Apparently, the toilet, which did indeed (thank God!) flush the "flag" before it decided to malfunction, had met it's final flush and had been running since the previous night - yes, the previous night being Friday the 13th, I might add in case you forgot. 

At this point, I was flabbergasted.  Realizing this little issue was beyond my abilities (I have...errr, HAD no experience with hardwood floors other than refinishing a small room) I called the insurance company and submitted our first ever claim. After a $2,500 deductible, hours spent prepping - patching, 1990's era wallpaper removal, and more patching - and painting every one of the first floor walls since the entire first floor was going to be redone since it is all hardwood and a simple repair would not work correctly thus taking advantage of not worrying about spilling paint on the floors, a month and two weeks later we moved in. How was that for a run-on sentence!?!?! 

Now I realize that only covers about a month or two since my last post but if I tried to explain what happened after that little fiasco, I would probably qualify for a novella writer and not a blogger.  I am already pushing the limits, so for now, I will close, but I promise, my reasoning for not writing is justified...well, mostly justified, anyway.  Perhaps I will write more about the gap in later installments and I will certainly get back to writing about a pondering dad with an Aspie child, so until then, sorry for the delay and, as always, thanks for reading!

Oh, and yes, we did receive the money owed to us, but I think it was out of pity since they did not have to pay after we signed the paperwork...and one more thing...about the time the repairs were finishing up, I learned that we did not technically own the house on the 13th since the paperwork was not filed until the following Monday the 16th, which means we, again, technically, could have turned around on Saturday morning after witnessing the indoor pool, canceled the contract and left...yeah, even if I knew that at the time, I wasn't going to be the one to tell my wife she isn't getting her house...I ain't stupid!





Disclaimer...(Yes, its a repeat of the last one...but the blog above is new!) First, let me say that I am not a specialist in Asperger's Syndrome, nor do I play one on TV. What I write or say are strictly my own personal observations and beliefs, so please do not sue me because I said something that made you do something that caused a misdiagnosis, or created a problem, or made you do something stupid. Have accountability, go see a professional, and leave my finances alone...besides, you really wouldn't get much anyway, so its probably not worth your time to call the lawyer on the back of the phone book to see if you have a case. Spend that time more wisely, like figuring out how to subscribe to my blog...and don't ask me about that because I'm not even sure how it works! Seriously, though, if some of the things I say seem like they sound very familiar in your family, set up an appointment with a true professional. While you are waiting for their callback, please, continue reading and leave a note!