My Name is Kahn

I watched the movie "My Name is Kahn" last night, actually over the last three nights, and I was so incredibly moved and stunned by this movie that I had to sit down immediately after the credits rolled and wrote this review. I could not recommend this movie more strongly for every single person to watch, as it speaks to so many issues in our current culture. If you do watch it, please let me know. It is available on Netflix.

"My name is Kahn, and I am not a terrorist."

So starts the beginning of this epic film that will tug at every last heartstring that you have, from beginning to end. You will never again be the same after watching this movie. How could you? It is a movie about love truimphing hate. About just doing what you can in the face of overwhelming prejudice and violence against you. It is a movie that lets us see into the lives and hearts of a minority of people so often mistaken to be "different," "other," "not like us," and even dangerous.

You will see that love brings us together, but hate tears us apart. You will see that people who are different - whether because of race, nationality, religion or whatever characteristic - have just as much value as every other citizen in this country - and sometimes more. Because sometimes, they rise and above and beyond. They do what's right not because they want to win popularity points but because they know in their hearts what is right.

Rizhu Kahn's mother always told him, when he was a young Muslim kid growing up with Asperger's Syndrome, in the midst of a war between Hindus and Muslims, that there are two kinds of people in this world. People who do good deeds, and people who do bad ones. It is a message that Kahn carries in his heart for the rest of his life.

Kahn has Asperger's Syndrome, a form of autism. There are many things that he doesn't understand; many things he does not do quite normally. He is very awkward in many ways. He takes everything literally and is very blunt about what is on his mind. But he has what is most important of all: good values instilled in him by his mother, and a good heart.

It is this good heart that makes Mandira, a beautiful Hindu woman who works at a beauty shop, fall in love with him after a chance meeting with Kahn when he is selling beauty products. Kahn wins her heart with his heartfelt but quirky ways, and they are married soon after. Kahn also becomes a loving father to Mandira's six year old son, Sam. This movie, a Bollywood movie made in India, does not have that cheesy "Hollywood" feeling to it. Everything minute of this movie is sensitively and intelligently done. Instead of being flashy, it moves your heart with its quiet innocence and by simply displaying the truth of Kahn's existence for all to see. It matters not whether Kahn is Muslim or white, whether he is disabled or not. You see the humanity in him, and continue to throughout the film.

But disaster soon strikes. In the wake of the 9/11 terrorist attacks, anti-Muslim s ntiment is high everywhere. When Mandira's now 13 year old son is killed in a hate crime by some high school kids, Mandira is torn apart. Convinced that Kahn's Muslim last name is what got Sam killed, she turns against him. In a fit of anger, after telling him to leave, she says to him sarcastically, "Why don't you go tell every person in America that you are not a terrorist? Why don't you go to tell the President of the United States? Then you can come home!"

Kahn, interpreting her words literally, sets out to do just that. It is unclear at this point in the movie exactly what his intentions are, and how he plans to achieve them, but we are moved by his resolve nevertheless. In the course of Kahn's journey across the country, he meets many people that are moved by who he is. In a small town in Georgia, he befriends a black family after returning their injured daughter to her home. He continues traveling the country, following the president, trying to deliver his most important message: "My name is Kahn, and I am not a terrorist."

There is much more, of course, but you'll have to watch the movie to see what happens next. Will he ever get his wife back? Will he and Mandira find the healing they so much need? Will he get to talk to the president after all? What other journeys might he go on? You won't be dissapointed.

While I originally chose to watch this movie because of the Asperger's connection, it is about so much more. It is a stunning journey through one man's heart. It is a dead-on accurate reflection of the state of America post 9-11; a meditation on identity, and a reminder that red is the only color running through all of our veins. Kahn is not a remarkable person simply because he did all he did "despite" being Muslim, or "despite" having Asperger's, but because he is a good person, just like his mother told him to be. That goes for every single other person in this country, too.

Funny Keywords Used to Find My Blog

I just looked at my Google Stats keywords for people who found this blog, and after like 4 months or so (maybe more), I have finally reached a critical mass where I am getting that all important thing - funny Google searches from people!

So in the interest of both entertainment and seriousness, and because I just find it fascinating what people search for, I present you the most interesting keywords/search phrases used to find my blog. It's like looking into the psyche of the nation, honestly.

Most amusing was how many other people share my feelings about weather and humidity:

"hard to function in east texas humidity" --- man, i feel for you!

"humid summer maine" - you got that one right!

"humidity and aspies" - hmm, never knew there was a connection but perhaps

"weather emotions humidity worried" - wow this person is concise. they summed up my entire blog entry in 4 words.

"when will it stop being humid" - we were all wondering that!

"barometric pressure humidity brain fog" - again, this person read my mind.

***

and then the MCS people (not amusing, just interesting):

chemical sensitivities finding a home

housing for people with chemical sensitivity

***

Some Aspergers related searches:

how to make aspie child clean themselves - a common question!

maine aspergers housing - doesn't really exist, except in south portland, kind of

new carpet chemicals aspergers - never would have connected the 2 but it is definitely related to MCS!

Other AS searches:

what does the state of maine offer to aspergers kids

autism yarmouth maine

aspies housing in portland,oregon area

aspies and adulthood

aspergers and writing styles

asperger roomate portland

***

And then the Clam Festival....

2010 yarmouth clam festival fun run pics

2010 yarmouth clam festival

clam relaxing ..... ???

bad clam festival ...... well I guess someone didnt enjoy it :)

All about Attitude, Illness and Living Life

There is something that's been on my mind lately.

If you had to choose between mental health and physical health, which would you choose?

Let's put this another way.

This can be best illustrated by the story of the two twin boys who both got a pile of dung for their birthday. One boy was mad and said "It's just a pile of dung! This stinks!" The other boy jumped for joy and said "Oh boy, we're getting a pony!!"

Same circumstances. Two radically different attitudes.

It's a story I've come back to many times in my life.

Three years ago, I did not have MCS (chemical sensitivity). Or I was affected only very mildly. I could go into buildings. I could work - kind of. I could take the bus, go into Portland, have a limited social life. Very limited. I had the trappings of, or the beginnings of, a "normal life." Okay, it wasn't really normal because of Asperger's, but for the purpose of this discussion, we are ignoring that factor.

But despite all this ability, I was miserable! Well, most of the time. There was so much more in life I wanted. I yearned for friends and a social life, to be more a part of the world, of the community, to feel more fulfilled, all of those vague emotional needs that you can get lost in and drown in if you let yourself. I cried and cried. I wanted more, and I couldn't appreciate what I had. That's a very bad thing, and it will lead you to never being happy.

But then, something curious happened. Well, it happened in the fall of that year, anyway. I was thrown into full stage crisis mode when my chemical sensitivity increased to the point where I couldn't go into any buildings, I couldn't tolerate any apartments, and I had nowhere to live other than my parents', which just wasn't working. My life was thrown into turmoil and for the next 2.5 years, I would think about nothing other than finding a place to live that I could stand from an MCS point of view.

Now obviously, these were not pleasant years. Hellish, actually. But despite it all, man, did I learn a lot and see a lot. I lived in nine different cities across the country in 2.5 yrs. You cannot possibly go through this and not change your attitude about life in some way, your viewpoint on the world, your opinion on what matters and what doesn't. The way you see yourself, your place in life, etc.

And so when it's all said and done - three years later, having found a place where it seems like I can finally (knock on wood) settle down, where I've been for nine months, I lie in bed sometimes at night and daydream about the differences between me now and then.

And this is what I see.

I see myself sitting on the couch of the South Portland apartment three years ago, crying because everything felt so uncertain, because I didn't have enough friends, because I wanted my life to be different.

Then I see myself immersed in a journey where none of that seemed the least bit important anymore, where all I cared about, ALL I CARED ABOUT, was a room with a bed in it that didn't have any chemicals, where I could relax and have a life of some kind, and didn't have to be constantly on the run.

Finally, I see myself emerging from all of this and being thankful for the very smallest things in life. The lack of (mostly) conflict with the people I live with (knock on wood). A chemically safe (mostly) living environment. Being able to take a walk in fresh air (except for the summer). Being able to watch TV again after not being able to for 5 years. Being able to read a book again. Being in my home state. Having a stable schedule and routine. Eating. A sunny day. The ocean. You know, the little things. Nothing has changed in my lifestyle or number of friends, really - but my outlook and attitude on life, on what I have, what I want, and where I want to be in life, and what I want out of life, has drastically changed.

Illness took away so much, but it gave me so much in return. I have so much more confidence in myself. I have a perspective on the world I'd never have had before. I'm not a whiny emotionally dependent person anymore (most of the time). The irony is, that even though I can do far less physically than I used to do - in terms of going places - I am far more an independent person than I was when I could do my own grocery shopping.

Why? Because I am (more) emotionally independent. I have gained far more distress tolerance skills (although I still could use far more) and I don't have to rely on other people for my emotional health as much. I still need people - but I have healthier interactions with them. I'm not in meltdown and distress mode all the time. I can solve more problems on my own. I can handle far more things without blowing up. I can brush some things off.

I don't think I would have gotten there hadn't it been for all the experiences of self-reliance an different viewpoints I encountered in the last three years, moving around because of MCS.

So, physically worse off, mentally better off - which would you rather have?

With a good attitude, you can do anything and go anywhere - you just have to modify things a little to fit your needs and situation. With a good attitude, you can be happy despite negative circumstances (to an extent).

With a functional body but a bad attitude, you are pretty much stuck in place.

So maybe, in some ways, I am the lucky one one after all?

****

I have often wrestled in my mind with what caused my sudden onset of MCS and decreased ability to deal with life at the end of my senior year of college. The obvious theory is the rainbarrel theory of MCS:that a sensitive person's body accumulates toxins over time, and at some point, they reach a threshhold, in which your body can no longer handle them or detoxify them, and you become super sensitive to everything.

But there are other factors. College was a VERY, VERY intense time for me - all four years of it.
Every day, I felt anywhere from euphoric to near suicidal and back again, many times, in the same day. (Good social interactions = happy, questionable social interactions = depressed).
There was a lot of good about the college experience, but there was an awful lot of pressure too, socially, environmentally, and academically. Yet I kept pushing myself past it all because that's what I do. I think it's in my genes. I was over my head so many times but I kept pushing myself on because that's what we're taught to do.

Everyone experiences stress, everyone has hard times. Everyone gets stressed out over assignments. I thought it was normal - and it probably was. But I think I was pushing myself past the point of mental/emotional exhaustion, past the point where my body and mind could keep up, without realizing it. I managed to turn these emotions off somehow and just do what I needed to do. The ten page paper, the burning questions of why I was so different socially than everyone else, the loud music coming from the dorms, the burning jealousy of seeing others have a good time and not being able to join in - I felt these things more intensely than I have felt anything in my life, more intensely than I would have guessed it was possible to feel anything. And they took a toll on me.

But I didn't really notice, I mean, it was normal for me. All I'm saying is I kept going and going and going and going and going and going going and going and going..... for three and a half years...until I returned to college one semester from break, and found the oddest thing had happened. I couldn't go into the library or classrooms or what have you because they all smelled like Windex, or perfume, or lotions or etc. Everywhere I went my eyes burnt, my nose stung and I felt like I was going to pass out. I had no idea what was happening. It made no sense. None at all. So I tried to cope, to adapt, like I always did. Use the computers past midnight when no one would be there. Hang out in the basement of the library where nobody was. Run past the initial library entrance that smelled so bad. Avoid the whole lower level of Pearlstone entirely because there was something God-awful down there. Roam the campus for hours at a time, looking for just one room in the whole campus where I could sit for a few minutes without feeling sick.

I still thought I could pull it off. I kept going. I wasn't getting any work done, but I thought that would be temporary. I'd had bad times before. I'd do it at the last minute, like I'd always done. Except this time I couldn't. It wasn't until my stepmom suggested, on an emotional late night phone call, that it was okay to take a break, that it was okay to come home, that I actually realized I could (and I am thankful to her for that.) And I did.

So....one could almost say that it's like my body imploded on me.

I believe MCS is a physical illness with physical origins. But I also believe for people who are vulnerable or alreay heading in that direction anyway, it can be triggered by extreme stress. Extreme stress changes things in the body on a biochemical level. It weakens the immune system and other body systems. It throws things out of whack. Could it throw things out of whack enough that I developed the symptoms of MCS? Certainly, in my opinion. Some theorists posit that illness is an expression of other things going on in the body and mind. (And I am not talking about psychosomatic illnesses, I am talking about genuine illness.)

So I found myself wondering, a few weeks ago, a very poignant question. If we assume that due to my general neurological make-up and somewhat fragile nervous system, college was an ultimately overwhelming experience that caused me to develop MCS and severely limit and change my life - was it worth it? Did I bring this on myself?

But fortunately, I didn't have to think long before I had an answer. Yes, it was worth it. Yes, it was worth it 1000%, without a doubt .

Because without the experiences I had in college, I wouldn't be me. I wouldn't be anyone. I'd be a severely depressed person with very low self confidence and no prospects in life.

College helped me overcome the trauma of my youth; college gave me a self, a person to be. College, as cliche as it is, helped me find myself. Accept myself. Being accepted in the college community, after all the negative social experiences of my past, finally let me come out of my shell and be who I was. I stopped being tortured by feelings of persecution every time I so much as walked by someone my own age, I stopped being paranoid about what other people thought of me. I decided I was an okay person, and embraced myself and the world around me.

My social experiences in college, as difficult and roller coaster like as they were, gave me the self confidence and sense of identity I needed to survive in this world.

A paper diploma means little to me. Academics can be learned from a book and are useless except in your specific profession. What college does is teach you how to think and how to learn - if you go to a good one. I don't need a diploma for that.

So was it worth it? All of life is a trade, I guess. I got one thing I desperately needed, and lost another. But none of us are playing with a full deck of cards. I just happen to be missing a few that are a little more uncommon than most. But, again not to be cliche, we're all missing a few cards here and there. It's what you do with the ones you have that counts.

So. When a lot of people look at me, they might see someone more disabled than I would like. I don't go into stores. I don't work. I get overwhelmed very easily. But if they'd look closer, they'd see the other qualities that I have. I smile whenever I can. I try to make other people happy whenever I am able to. I attack my challenges with all that I have. I always keep trying, and I never give up. I work very hard to make the kind of life I want to live - even though it takes a long time! I have passion, I have love, I have hope, and I have life. I do what I can to help others. But most of all, I have an attitude that I will believe will take me where I want to go.

And that, I have decided, is the most important thing of all. And if I was as normally-abled as others are in certain areas, well, it's just possible I may never have developed this attitude. Who knows what would happen if you change the circumstances of your life?

What about you? What do you think is most important?

I would like to add a disclaimer that writing this does not mean that I won't be subjected to occasional bouts of depression, helplnessness, neediness, and all those other lovely things we all like so much to avoid. But I think have the tools to get out of them (in due time). And I am going to keep working until I get to the place I want to be.I sure hope so anyway.

(As long as, of course, I continue to have support from others to bolster me, as it can be a very lonely road indeed.)

End of Summer entry

I feel obligated to write some kind of end of summer blog entry. Okay, I want to as well as feeling obligated. I doubt I will have anything brilliant to say, but perhaps it will be meaningful, if I can sustain my attention to it throughout.

Oh, the humidity of it all: revisited

Back in May or whenever it was, four months ago, I wrote a post talking about the humidity and how scared I was of it. I was terrified of the summer. For a good six months I had been terrified of the summer. But you know what the good thing is from all that being scared in advance? By the time the thing actually happens, you've imagined the worst case scenario so many times, that anything that actually does happen pales in comparison with what you've imagined. Not to mention you've had all that time to psychologically prepare yourself and get used to the idea. When it finally happens - as the heat and humidity did this summer - you just deal.

And deal I did, but with some better cards in my hand than in past summers. With a well insulated house that rarely got that hot, at least downstairs; a TV to distract myself with; and no real reason to actually go outside, except when we were at the beach, I found it a lot easier to deal with the summer and the heat and humidity that it brought than I had in previous summers. I didn't like it, but it didn't make me miserable and unable to function like it did three summers ago, either. Halejuah for overcoming one fear, and what happened to be probably the hottest and most humid summer in recent Maine history.

The Beaches and other Activities

I enjoyed going to more beaches than I could possibly name this summer with my friends Nate, Rob and Ryan. I honed my photography skills and learned to relish the act of taking pictures, of every conceivable place and opportunity, and posting them to share. Crescent Beach, Two Lights, Fort Williams, East End Beach, Popham (with my dad), Willard Beach/SMCC, Higgins, we went to all the good ones. Then there were the festivals: the Clam Festival in Yarmouth and the Windjammer Festival in Boothbay Harbor. And of course, we went to the lake at my dad's house to swim a couple times, which is always a fun and enjoyable thing to do.
I've got enough pictures of this summer to make a very, very, VERY large album, let's just say that, lol.

The Relatives

I got to see many relatives over the summer, which is something that I enjoyed. My granparents on my dad's side visited for two weeks in the early summer, and I spent three full days with them, memories I will have forever. My dad's cousin and his wife, Steve and Gail, came a few times, and I saw them once. My dad's old friend Bob came twice and I got to see him both times, once when he had his kids and grandkids with him. My mom came to visit at the end dof the summer, and we spent a day together. It was nice feeling like a part of a family when I got to spend time with all these relatives.

Challenges Overcome

I managed to acquire several new pairs of clothes and start to overcome some of my problems with wearing more than one piece of clothing and other issues related to clothing.

Ehh, this is a boring entry that I will end here but leave in case I find it a year later and actually want to read it. :)

May the fall bring more joys and challenges, more growth and life.

The Uncharted Path: A Book Review

For those of you with Asperger's or autism, do you remember what it was like when you first got your diagnosis? For parents, have you wondered what was going on in your autism spectrum child's head? Rachel Cohen-Rottenberg's new book "The Uncharted Path" explores these questions and more. Cohen-Rottenberg was 50 years old when she was first diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome. Her book is a wonderful and insightful exploration into a childhood living with undiagnosed Asperger's, and what it means and feels like to be an adult woman living with autism.

Cohen-Rottenberg always felt the odd one out at school, never able to make friends like all her peers seemed to be able to. The behavior of other kids was confusing and frightening to her. Nothing made sense. High school was an even more difficult and overwhelming place to be. Cohen-Rottenberg tried to mask her social deficits by copying the behavior of other girls, and to an extent, it worked. The many problems she had with the social world, however, persisted. College was an overwhelming place where she felt like an alien and no idea how to interact with others. So Cohen-Rottenberg escaped to Berkely, California, where she found a more accepting culture and group of people. Eventually, she found a successful career as a technical writer and got married. And then, at age 50, came the diagnosis. And that changed everything.

Cohen-Rottenberg's strength in this book is being able to let you get into the head of someone with Asperger's, and show you exactly what they think and feel. Others with Asperger's will gasp in recognition at so many descriptions that so well parallel their lives. Friends and family will gain much needed insight into their loved one. Cohen-Rottenberg is emotionally honest and skilled at relaying the stories from her childhood and adulthood that made her the person she is today. She aptly conveys what it is like to discover at age 50 why you have felt different from your peers all your life, and engages the reader fully as she describes how she had to learn to accept that her life was actually going to be a lot different than she planned it. She leaves no holds barred as she talks about the puzzling conundrums that come with an Asperger life.

"Unless someone tells me so explicitly, I cannot tell whether a group has accepted me. And even if someone tells me outright, how will I know that tomorrow that acceptance will remain? Certainly, I can look back and see that yesterday people liked me. They smiled at me. They joked with me. They gave me compliments. I felt reassured. But what about today? It’s a whole new day. What if today is the day that I screw up and have no idea that it’s happened? What if today I make a mistake, and I’m cast out?"

"Okay, smile. Make eye contact…No! No! Not that much! Pause. Say something helpful, but don’t jump in too fast…Wait…Wait…Now! Say something clever…Very good. People laughed…Now, make more eye contact…Okay, good. Act like you’re following the conversation…What? It’s winding down already? How do I exit gracefully? Help! Help!…Um…er…Time to walk away? Okay. I’m walking away now…Why do I always feel like such an idiot?"

Ultimately, though, Cohen-Rottenberg's book, "The Uncharted Path," is about coming to terms with a life that you never expected would happen. It's about learning to reframe who you are, and reframe your sense of self. It's the fine art of learning to change your expectations of how much you will be able to do at any given time, and not hate yourself for your limitations. It's the struggle of looking at your peers, and trying with all of your heart not to compare yourself to them. To accept and love yourself for your own unique gifts and strengths, instead of always wanting what everyone else has. This is a theme that will resonate with people far and wide - How do I accept myself? How do I come to terms with who I am? You don't need to be disabled or autistic to realize that Cohen-Rottenberg's words speak to the human condition that we all find ourselves in. A highly recommended read.

"I’d never wanted to be famous, but I once was full of promise. Could I have done the work my former classmates are doing? No, I couldn’t have—and yet, I can’t quite grasp why not. Intellectually, I know all the reasons: I know that raw intelligence isn’t everything; I know that I don’t understand or respect social politics; I know that I get overloaded in groups of more than two people. I know all of these things, but I still can’t quite understand what’s happened. The gulf between who I was supposed to be and who I am is so deep and so wide that my mind still can’t take it in and make any sense of it."

Rachel Cohen-Rottenberg writes about her life on her blog "Journeys with Autism," which can be found at http://www.journeyswithautism.com. To purchase this book, you can email her at Rachel@journeyswithautism.com

The rain, the park and other things (My mom comes to visit)

I wanted to call this "Visit with my mom Part 2," because I remember writing an entry on this exact same topic at almost this exact same time last year, but, well, that was a boring title. My mom visited me in Newport, Oregon this time last year, and we spent the day walking around going to beaches, which was was great. This year, she came once again, and I hoped once again to spend the day going to different beaches, only on a different coast (Maine instead of Oregon) - but alas, the weather and my life circumstances had other plans.

Not that I minded, though, in the end, as we still managed to have a good day together. The first half of the day was unfortunately devoted to clothes shopping. I say unfortunately because, for me, clothes shopping is the LAST, and I mean the LAST, thing on this earth that I would want to be doing. But, well. It was time. Or, more accurately, my hand was forced. Longer story that I don't feel like going into, but due to my extreme sensory issues and chemical sensitivities, getting new clothes is basically an impossibility, so I haven't in years. I had like one-two pairs of clothing and that was it for the last few years. Probably haven't gone clothes shopping since high school. But, one of the parts of living with roommates is that you have to make compromises and be sensitive to their needs, and my roommates very strongly suggested (err, required) that I get some more clothes, so off to Freeport we were.

Great lobster roll and fried fish place on edge of Freeport

Freeport, just in case you didn't know, is Hell on Earth. Funny, I never thought so as as kid. I thought of the Ben and Jerry's and the Wilbur's Candy Shoppe and, well, that's really all I thought of, because most of the rest of it is preppy clothing stores or high end gift stores, and hardly anything redeeming at all. But as a kid, ice cream and candy were enough. :)

And LL Bean, of course. If anyone outside of Maine knows where Freeport is, it's only because the LL Bean flagship store is probably the most popular tourist attraction in the state. One of my favorite things to do used to be to go to the LL Bean parking lot in the summer and count how many different states and provinces I could find. I usually got about half of them! There was no shortage of out of state plates this time, either. We took the parking spot of a French speaking family from Quebec, who was just leaving, after we had circled the parking lot several times.

Freeport is at its heart a tourist town, with similar stores to what you might see in a mall (with some exceptions), so it's no wonder I don't really like it. I think it has a lot of outlet stores too, I think, so I guess people like that. I wouldn't know. Anyway, this time, it was MOBBED with people, being a rainy day in summer and all, and not only that but there was some smell that pervaded that whole downtown area that made me feel like I was going to pass out the whole time I was there. Needless to say, I did NOT like Freeport. My mom shared my opinion.
We both couldn't wait to get out of there. Guess we must be true Mainers after all.

At any rate, I was able to arrange for a "personal shopper" to meet me outside of LL Bean to look for clothes for me, so I didn't have to go in. Score one - or two or three - for customer service points for LL Bean, it was an excellent thing to do. We were right by a giant 14 foot LL Bean boot. Every few seconds random kids would climb on it to get their pictures taken by their adoring parents. There were so many kids and people, that a different kid sat on that thing like every 30 seconds. It was rather entertaining to watch, and kept me from going crazy while I waited for the clothes. I would have loved to get a picture, but didn't bring my camera due to the off and on rain.

I got lucky and found some canvas drawstring pants and and cotton tshirts, 2 of each, that worked, and then we got the hell out of there. The woman that helped us was very nice, though.

After a stop in Portland to check out another clothing store (2 pants) and go to Whole Foods for some resources (and a hair clip and ham for Marion), we were done with the shopping part of the day. Unfortunately, it was raining, lightly but still, for the first time in almost 2 months. Lovely luck, huh? We decided to go to Fort Williams in Cape Elizabeth to see the spectacular views of the ocean there anyway, and just brought along an umbrella. It was fun to walk on the worn dirt path alongside the crashing ocean waves, which crashed spectacularly in different patterns against the rock the whole way through. It was a short walk, and we eagerly made our way back at the end, eager to get out of the rain. The only other few hardy souls there all were tourists with cameras.

I remarked to my mom that, without even trying to, we had just gone to the 2 most popular tourist destinations in Maine - LL Bean and Portland Headlight (in the same place as Fort Williams.) Oh well, I guess sometimes they're tourist destinations for good reason.

No pictures as it was too rainy to take any.

Once home, I embarked on an ambitious and fervored campaign to wash the hell out of the clothes we'd just bought so I could actually wear them. I started at 8pm an didn't finish till nearly 3am. I seperated the clothes into 2 groups, and gave each group three cycles and a little time to soak. At 3am, I finished the last part and sighed in relief as I finally was able to start getting ready for bed.

I piled up all the clean t-shirts in one pile, amazed at the size of the pile, and the fact that I was actually looking at a pile of loose cotton t-shirts that would actually fit me and have a chance of being comfortable. I hadn't seen more than one or two of these very rare beasts in several years, and now I was looking at a pile of almost a dozen. It was a sight to behold - to me. It would mean absolutely nothing to someone who didn't know me. They'd wonder why there was what would probably seem to them a rather small pile of clothes sitting there, and why I'd actually taken a picture of it. But to me, it resembled quite an accomplishment.

My new shirts!

I managed to wear my first outfit today, and did all right in it. I am still very nervous about getting used to the new clothes, as that is hard for me, but I have the mindset for it, the desire and the drive, and the committment to ignore the discomfort for as long as possible at the beginning, knowing it will get better later. I *want* to have more clothes; it's just something that's always been difficult for me. I do not like declaring that something will happen before it does, so I will not make any predictions per se, but it looks like I am on the right road, and I look forward to the day where I can open a drawer of clothes and select one for the day just as easily as I could ten years ago, when my sensitivities were not nearly as bad (still there, but not as bad).


"We spent the whole day shopping," my mom said enthusiastically as we climbed in the door of my dad's house wearily, laden down with all our bags, "which was kind of interesting since Kate doesn't go into stores!" That sentence on its own could have mean a lot of things, and it mostly depends on tone of voice. But she said it with a laugh and a sparkle in her eyes, accepting the situation and laughing at the irony of it. Two years ago, it would have been much more likely to be an (understandable, for the situation) annoyed "What do you mean you can't go in stores? Why can't you? Can't you just for a little?" But this time, the acceptance was complete. I can only assume she saw the way I worked around my problems and still achieved the same means in the end, and accepted that this was the way I was, and was genuinely okay with it - or so it seemed. Such a simple statement, but to me it conveyed so much - acceptance, humor and joy. I was happy to share those qualities with her.

Before we left my dad's, we were greeted with the as of late rare gift of the sun, and took several pictures. My dad showed my mom how to use her new camera, while I documented the experience. I took as many cute kitty pictures as I could, as those are always fun. So somehow, I still ended up with 80 pictures; not bad for a mostly rainy day.



Eighty pictures and a lot of memories, that I can store for the future; of a family that loves me enough to step up to the plate and help me out when I need it (the clothes), who are understanding of my rather extreme at times needs and quirks, and try to accomodate them, and who are a part of my heart. You know that feeling when you didn't realize you were missing something until you find it again, and then you're delighted at how well it fits, how easy it is, how familiar it is, and how glad you are for the person in all their quirks and qualities that couldn't possibly belong to anyone else? Their sense of humor, the way they see the world, that is in some ways so close to your own? That is what seeing my mom was like; so although it might have rained, and although we didn't see every beach in Cape Elizabeth, and even though I had to spend half of it clothes shopping - it was still quite a good day.

My mom and dad: this picture came out awesome!



Bonus question: Does anyone know where the title of this post came from?

Book Interview

Just a quick post to point you to this book interview I just did with Jess of Diary of a Mom fame. Hop over here to her blog to take a look! Jess's blog is excellent, so you may want to stay a while.
http://adiaryofamom.wordpress.com/2010/08/09/listen-i-never-said-i-was-oprah/

A longer post to follow at some time later, I promise! Too hot to do much thinking in the summer. I hope to get my brain cells back by fall!
Kate

On the Matter of Empathy

I very much want to write this entry. I have not been able to focus of late. I believe it is the air. It is driving me crazy. I feel like there is a physical weight on my body and mind and it makes it hard to even type or keep one train of thought for very long. But for some reason even typing continuously lately, much less doing that WHILE keeping a continuous train of thought ,has been hard. So, I am going to try very hard to do this.

This is a topic that has been brewing in my mind a lot lately - actually, on and off for the last month. I very much want to get it down on paper, so to speak.

The story starts on the night that I learned Madeline (pen name for my roommate), had gone into the hospital. She is 93 , and her ankle was swollen and bleeding. I did not know this all day Friday, until M (her son and my other roommate) came home around 9:30 to tell me.

That night, I was in a bit of shock. I felt so bad for her. I care very much about Madeline and am closer to her than a lot of other people. I feel a connection to her even though there's not a lot we have in common on the outside. So , that night, I was feeling very badly for her. A hospital is not a nice place for anyone, but especially not when you're 93. I kept remembering the stories she had told me about one time years ago that she had been in the hospital, and how much she hated it, and especially how bad the food was. I imagined her in that hospital room, lonely and frustrated and.... well, the main thing I kept thinking was alone. Maybe that could partly be attributed to my own hospital stay, years ago, 13 in fact (!!!), where the primary thing I felt was loneliness. I just hated beyond belief being there while everyone else was living their lives. It was not a pleasant feeling. So accurate or not, I ascribed it to her. And I thought of the food, of course. And I felt a sense of....powerlessness, of wanting so bad to just do something to help her, to make her feel better, to make her happy in some small way, but knowing there wasn't anything I could do. I couldn't help that she was in the hospital, of course. I could write her notes and send her small gifts - and I would and did - but that wasn't enough.

And somewhere in that night, as I frantically IMed disjointed thoughts to a friend while trying to process everything, I realized something. This feeling of wanting to help and feeling bad for someone ... a feeling that it seems for many people is hard to put into words... is probably what OTHER people felt towards me when I was in emotional distress or had problems, and they wanted to help me, but didn't know how. Or thought there was nothing they could do. In that instant, I caught a brief glimpse of what I SHOULD have been feeling all of those numerous, probably hundreds of times that people had tried to unsuccessfully comfort me. Why was it unsuccessful? Because for whatever reason, most people can't put their feelings into words. There seems to be an unspoken agreement among NTs, furthermore, that they don't NEED to put their feelings into words, because their feelings in certain circumstances are automatically understood, since they are "typical" (???) and commonly understood feelings for certain situations.

Now, take me and most other ASD people. We do not know what the "typical" feelings to have in any given situation are. We have absolutely no clue!! We need to hear verbally, in words, in very definite and descriptive and precise words, exactly what someone is feeling to have any idea in hell what they're feeling. We can't tell from their face. We can't guess - or if we can, it's a very rudimentary guess. If we're lucky and experienced at this, we can make a logical assumption, but logical assumptions, I have to say, are not very comforting.

I have always needed to hear the WORDS when someone is trying to comfort me, but here's the thing. Most people don't have words. And that proved disastrous to me, time after time. Because I would be crying, I would be revealing highly emotional things, and I'd look across to where the person was sitting. As far as I could tell, they weren't responding at all. They weren't listening. They didn't care. They didn't understand. (When in fact nonverbal language was probably saying otherwise.) This feeling of aloneness and isolation that this realization - they don't understand- brought on made me feel 100 times worse. In fact, if often made me cross the line to hysterical. Which would scare them and make them become even more remote (and brand me as the world's biggest baby), which would reinforce the cycle, and it'd go on and on .... sometimes only until I had exhausted myself in hysterics. I shudder to think about it. Relationships get ruined this way. Over a simple misunderstanding of communication. Of not being able to read each other, but thinking you can.

If I apply this newfound knowledge to this situation, I can get a glimpse into what they were feeling. Empathy. Caring. Wanting to make things better, but not knowing how. Powerlessness. But they didn't know how to put these into words, and I honestly had no idea they were feeling it. It might sound thick, but it's the truth. Autism is in so many ways a disorder you have to live out for an awfully long time before you figure out all the many and myriad ways it affects you and the people in your life.

I have a pang of sympathy and understanding for these people in my life now, when I think about this. Maybe a fleeting feeling of connection. But that's all - fleeting. This knowledge is still too new. It's like I got a glimpse of it and that's great, wonderful, but it will take more than a glimpse, I'm afraid, for me to be able to put it in practice. But I will try. I will try to remember what I felt like about Madeline the next time I'm trying to figure out how someone is feeling about me. I don't know if it will work, but I will try.

Why is autism all about having to make logical connections in the place where in others, emotional connections exist? I don't know, and I'd really like to. But it's like building the brain from the ground up, and if the autistic person does not have particular experiences to rely on to understand what a particular emotion feels like , then they might be able to understand it logically, might in time learn that this is what people are *supposed* to feel, but they will never really feel it, in themselves or others. And this lack of emotional feeling about others - this lack of connection, this wall - is in many ways it seems the heart of autism. So many connections need to be made in the autistic brain - and unfortunately the experiences, friendships and social experiences an autistic person needs to make them are so often missing, not from any fault from the parents or others, but just because the very traits an autist poses makes them far more unlikely to make these kind of relationships.

You may think I am saying that autistics don't feel emotions towards others. I am NOT saying this. The myth that autistics are not capable of empathy is pure bunk. BUT, I am beginning to think, it might have to be learned. I think that all emotions autistic people (or most autistic people) feel towards others are based on emotions they have felt themselves; and if they have not felt those emotions themselves, because they are missing the social experiences to have created them or are just developmentally behind, they won't feel them.

So this makes it critically important that people with ASD be exposed to a wide range of experiences, BUT. Shoving them into experiences unprepared isn't going to do much good; if a person is scared and afraid, as many ASD people are about new experiences, they will shut
down and not be able to connect with anyone or anything. So the key is to figure out a way to expose them to new things while they're in their comfort zone, while they're relaxed enough for their brain to be able to make the new connections. I.E. it's safe to care about this person; I like this person; she is not a threat; several months later....hey, I actually feel connected to this person! Fear and anxiety will prevent these connections from happening. But how to do this? I have no idea. Sheer, dumb luck is what it seems to come to; unless you can use your child's speical interests to manipulate or set up friendships or opportunities for them in places they feel comfortable....it would be a hard thing to do, it seems.

Okay, needed a little break. Let's see if I can finish. A good example of this is a person who is very close to me who I shouldn't mention in case this story is at all offensive, which is not intended to be. For years, I have called this person up and talked to him about a great many topics. I love him very much. And he usually understands me quite well, a fact I find quite comforting. But there is one thing that he doesn't understand, which has always puzzled me. If I am upset over something, I want people to react verbally and/or visably - NOT because I want to "manipulate" them in some way or make them feel worse than my news might already make them feel, but so I can UNDERSTAND what they're feeling and I don't have to feel so alone. It seems obvious to me , but for some reason to many it is not. ANyway, so many times I talk to this person and I mention something I am upset about. If this person does not react, or does not verbally tell me how it makes him feel, I often get very upset, because I have no idea what he is thinking. For all I know he could be thinking very critical things of me like that it's all my fault. So I ask him to tell me how he feels, and he says "You KNOW I feel bad for you, you KNOW how I feel, why are you always asking? You should understand!" He seems to feel very firmly that I should know his feelings. But I don't. I don't know. And even if he's been able to understand and sympathize with my feelings a hundred times before, how do I know he does this time? This has always bothered me, and of course him too. I suppose it is two different ways of thinking.

It seems that not only is it very hard for autistic people to understand that there is a different way to think, it is just as hard for non-autistic people to understand that autistic people, especially ones that are seemingly very smart in other areas of their lives, could not understand something as basic as this.

Again. You learn by doing. You learn by experiencing. And for some people on the autistic spectrum, it can take 20 years or more to even start to understand and experience something most kids probably do at age 4 (or whenever). That's why they call it a developmental delay, I suppose.

I have heard many ASD people say they have trouble connecting with and feeling close to others. I feel that if you protect yourself too much an never get close to anyone - even if you don't realize you're protecting yourself- , you never feel what it is like to feel close to someone - and so therefore you can't feel what it is like for them to be close to you. If that makes any sense. It is not ASD people's fault that they have trouble making friends - but it does seem to be a vicious cycle in many ways. You can't just turn defense mechanisms off when someone asks; I think the situation has to be right for them to fall away.

Most people with ASD are quite smart in other ways, though. They find ways around their blind spots. The therapist who diagnosed me told me something like, "Instead of understanding things intuitively, you make these logical connections in your brain - but you make them so fast, it's sometimes hard for people to see that you had trouble understanding the concept in the first place." Or something like that. The only problem is - logic can only take you so far.

I wasn't a big fan of this therapist in some ways, but I always thought that was an intelligent statement. If I ever get the ability to go into buildings back, I would really like to see a therapist. I have been recommended one who sounds good, too. Maybe in the fall when the heat isn't stressing me out so much I could try. Maybe.

Anyway...more thoughts about my life. These do not apply to all people with autism; they are just my life and experiences as I see them.

2010 Yarmouth Clam Festival

Today was the long awaited Yarmouth Clam Festival, a tradition in Southern Maine every year. I am sure it's got to be one of the biggest festivals in Maine. The Clam Festival was what I missed most about Maine the last two summers; it was always just such a part of my growing up experience that I hated to miss it. I've been looking forward to it for at least six weeks and despite all my nerves, had quite a good time in the six hours N, R, R, I and various other AS group members spent there today.

Nate picked me up and we arrived there at about 1. Or, I arrived at 1, the rest arrived around 1:30, which is kind of a longer story. It was so exciting to see the street with people lining both sides of it (waiting for some kind of firefighter demonstration), and the famous HUGE food court with its red and white lettering to one side. Fried Clams! Strawberry Shortcake! Fried Dough! Soda! etc. There are probably about 20 stands and they go in a semi circle around a picnic eating area. On one side is a tent where concerts go on called the Memorial Green.


On the other side were the rides, and tons of them. What sheer eye candy! I walked around snappy pictures, trying to capture the essence of the amusement park, the essence of the spirit pervading the place, the joy and action, the colors and fast speeds. The cotton candy, candy apples and fried dough mixed in with the arcade games and colorful, whirling, spinning, as fast as the eye can see, guaranteed to make you barf rides. It's an interesting kind of meditation to be wandering around not focusing on the rides themselves, but on documenting them in pictures. It's relaxing, actually, and that area of the Clam Festival, with its long line of games on one side, is always fun to wander.


I wandered back to the area with the food, and ran into Nate and the group without even trying to. Pretty surprising in a place as big as this. We got some chairs and sat for a bit while we waited for No Banjos, the 2pm concert, to start. A fellow Aspie group member was in the band.

I have to say it was relaxing, to sit there in the shade in a comfortable chair, with friends, and listen to good music. It was covers of 60s classics,mostly British. It was too short - only 6 or 7 songs - but fun. When they did Last Train to Clarksville by the Monkees, I got up and danced, as I love that song; Nate even got a picture. It was followed by a high activitiy up-tempo Beatles song (maybe All My Loving but I can't remember) which I enjoyed just as much. The rest were down-tempo and mostly unfamiliar, so I stayed seated, except to go to the front to snap pictures of the band. :)


At 3, we went over to the rides to explore. There was this super awesome thing I found on my first walk through - they put you in huge plastic bubbles!!! and put the bubbles in the water in a large swimming pool. They put you in, zipped you up, and then inflated the bubble with air! You could then roll around the pool . I actually thought it looked like it COULD be a lot of fun but the idea of being trapped in a giant plastic bubble was a bit too claustrophobic to consider. It was, however, a LOT of fun to watch, and I was very pleased when both N and R agreed to go in!
Snapping shots of them in their plastic bubbles was just awesome, a creative challenge, lol. Never seen that before, must be the new thing.


We tried to get tickets for the ferris wheel; however after a long drawn out process to find and buy the damn things, the one ride I wanted to go on was closed. Oh well. Some of us got things to eat and we headed to the games. There were 5 new Aspie group members I had never met there , well, I think only 2 who stayed with us but still. 3 of us tried the balloon dart game, which has always been my favorite. One of the other girls said to me "I'm just doing this because this is what I used to do when I was a kid," and I said, "I'm doing it for the exact same reason!" I got a big fat red balloon on my 2nd try. The very friendly older operator of the game gave A and I the kids' rate even though we were both in our 20s, lol - so we both got a medium sized very cute stuffed dog and as many tries as we needed to get it! :) Best, and by that I mean least crappiest and certainly biggest, arcade prize I've ever gotten.

We then headed uphill to the craft festival. Fortunately, the hill was not as formidable as I remembered it, nor the weather as torturous as I had feared. The craft festival, while still as big as ever, was actually quite boring, but this was all the more for the better - I only had 40 min to get back to the Blaine concert, so "boring" was welcome for once.


We sat down to relax for 15 min before we trekked down the hill again for the Blaine Larsen concert. Or shall I say, I trekked down. They got stuck somewhere halfway down and I left them in the dust in my eagerness to see my beloved Blaine. :)

Blaine Larsen is a 24 year old country singer who first hit it big about 6 years ago with his haunting song "How Do You Get That Lonely," a follow- up to the just as amazing , goosebump producing "In My High School." When I was in college, I got a friend to take me to see him at a local mall and it is one of my happiest memories of college. It was a very intimate concert of only maybe 30 gathered around in a decrepit, falling down mall to see an extrodinary singer.
I loved it.

So when I heard, a couple weeks ago, that Blaine would be at the Clam Festival FOR FREE, in another small intimate setting, I just about went crazy. I had eagerly awaited it for weeks and couldn't wait to tear down that hill and get to Blaine. Finding a place to sit was difficult at first, but ultimately prosperous. I started on the bleachers on one side, discovered we were permitted to stand at the side and watch him from 2 ft away, went back to bleachers to rest, and ended up watching him from an even closer distance on the other side of the stage for his last song. Not bad!


He started with some song I didn't know...then went into I Don't What She Said, which I did know...1-2 more songs I didn't really know (his voice still sounded good but I much prefer familiar songs), then into "It Did," a song I really like. I ran to the side for that so I could get a good view and have room to move around and sing along. :) After that I felt better cus I figured whatever he sang after I'd at least gotten one good song in. He did a couple more ones I didn't know, THEN, came the moment I had been waiting for. "This is my very first song that ever went to radio, about 6 yrs ago, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for this song..." My ears perked up and I ran back to the front from where I had been sitting.... it was time for the hauntingly beautiful "How do you get that lonely." I saw him sing it 6 yrs ago in Baltimore, and now the circle was complete by seeing him sing it again in my home state of Maine.

He finaled, of course, with his current single of "Chillin'", a popp-ish summer kind of song that has caught on mostly because it is a pop-ish summer song that doesn't make you think. Not my favorite song, but a decent one still. I was right in front of the stage snapping a picture when someone (from his staff) came out and dropped a huge tin of water on him! It was a joke because the song was about "Chilling." Everyone laughed. Blaine said, "Oh, so is THAT why you asked me how expensive my guitar was earlier?"


He then resumed the song, to much applause when he was finished. 50 min approx. Great show overall. Then it was time for autograph signing - I was one of the first to get to the WPOR table in the back, so I got very lucky - I noticed people were getting their pictures taken with him so I called Nate and asked him to come over and take a picture of me with him. Which actually worked! I didn't even have to wait that long, and I got to talk to him - I told him I' been at the Baltimore/Towson show and he said "Wow, that was a long time ago" and that I liked the song In My High School; he thanked me profusely. Then I asked for a picture and N got a great one! In my head last night I was dreaming about how cool it would be to have a picture taken with him but I didn't think it would actually happen!

Kate with Blaine Larsen!

It was too late after Blaine to do the other 60s concert or any rides, which was fine cus I was pretty tired by then. So we sat by the food and chatted for a bit before we left. We were all pretty tired.

I enjoyed the feeling of connection, of having other people to do stuff with. It was funny trying to do it with a group of 8!!! But we all moved together very well actually an people got along too.
At any given point we were always trying to figure out where someone was ("Where's N? Where's R?") lol but we found each other and reunited pretty quickly. It was a nice feeling of belonging to even have people to worry about missing in the first place.

So, I returned to the house hot, tired and more sunburnt than when I left - although not signficantly so - but overall happy, although it took some time to process this all.

Ready for several days of relaxing, I hope, and returning to a normal sleep schedule. Weather still hot, challenges still many, but I hope to use days like this, as overwhelming on some levels as they can be, to propel me forward and give me something to look forward to during those times when everything else seems to be going badly.

Happy middle of only six weeks left of (yay) summer.
Kate

Kate playing with darts

Sebago Lake

Time for another photo essay. It has been very hot and humid here in Maine and the entire Northeast. I do not so much like it, as seems to be the opinion of most people. It's been crazy....high 80s and low 90s with record breaking humidity for days on end. Originally I thought it would last just 3 days, then a week, now it seems like, well, let's just say I might have to get used to a new kind of July. I have heard the humidity is suppose to temporarily go down for one day tomorrow, but with a high temperature of 88, that isn't much of a consolation. Sigh.

However, today after a week of wanting to, I finally was able to go with my friends N and R to the lake at my dad's house. He lives on Sebago Lake, the second biggest lake in Maine. With a floating dock, noodles to swim with, and kayaks, it is many ways a perfect summer destination.
I had not been swimming in about three years, a huge shame because I absolutely love swimming. When I was a kid, I was never happier than when I was in the pool. Before the humidity started bothering me, I was in the lake a lot during summertime when I was at my dad and stepmom's. Then I was in Oregon one summer and Montana the next time, so it had been a LONG time since I had been swimming.


You know how they say the phrase "easy as riding a bike" or how people think once you learn how to ride a bike, you never forget? Well, I'm not quite sure about the bike part, but I know swimming is like that. It's a beautiful feeling, to be able to pick up something so easily that you haven't done in years. The water felt cold when I first went in, as it always did, but then it felt great; soothing, surrounding you as if in a big hug. The dock was still the same; the metal bars are great for grabbing and playing around. I dunked my head in and the rush of cool water was delightful and surprising. Thus baptized, for lack of a better word, I set out to swim to the floating dock, following N and R.



Here's the other thing that surprised me: how easy swimming was. I had been afraid that
swimming might be too hard after not having done it for so long, or more likely, that I would not have enough breath to swim because of the air quality (which was thankfully okay today).
But it was so intuitive; reaching out to the water and saying "Here I am," reaching out to the water and pulling it toward me, just a few easy strokes with my arms and look how far I've gone!
Holding on to the floating dock and gasping for breath, waiting to catch my breath, just like old times. (It seems easy until you stop, lol.) I couldn't swim very long before getting out of breath - but that was true before too - but what I could swim, I enjoyed.

So we sat on the floating dock for a while, entertained by each other's conversation and the sun and water around us. I jumped into the lake from the dock for old time's sake. I was actually kind of nervous doing that. Took a few minutes to get up my nerve. But it went fine, although due to the force of impact it's something I'd only do once. I used to love the feeling of shooting underwater, feeling the water get colder as I went down further, and seeing how far I could go down before I had to go up again. N said he thought I was never going to come back up again. :)



We returned to the shore and the dock there, and grabbed some colorful noodles to sit on and play with, another thing I always used to love. The only thing I didn't do this time is swim on my back, because the water was too rough and would have gotten in my ears and eyes. Come to think of it, it'd get in my ears either way, so swimming on my back may not be a good option.

N, R and I

We also had some fun on the hammock. Rocking back and forth on that thing is about the most relaxing thing I can imagine, and I intend to do it more when I have clothes instead of a bathing suit on, which I figure will be more comfortable.


We had some of my dad's special house-made smoked pulled pork (heat and humidity and pulled pork, Gee, this place is getting more and more like the South every day. If I see someone serving sweet tea, I'm going to run. lol.) Then we went to Whole Foods, N did some shopping for his stepdad while I grocery shopped. I thoroughly enjoyed shopping in an air conditioned environment. Whee!



The only thing that will take some getting used to is this sunburn - which of course I didn't notice until I was home and saw it in the mirror, isn't hat always the case. I have the classic bathing suit strap marks - lol been a long time since I had those. I don't think it's a particularly bad one, but it's definitely more moderate than the very mild ones I've gotten so far this summer. Ie I can actually feel it. But hopefully if I am patient and wait patiently a few days without getting upset, it will go away. It usually does. We went so early in the day, we were there at 1, that it was unfortunately prime sunburning time. I wonder why you never feel yourself getting sunburnt till you are.

My stepmom gave me an old bathing suit that she had which I was very happy about. It fit okay and is the most beautiful shade of purple. I don't love wearing bathing suits, but they are a necessary evil for swimming.

I felt quite good, although tired, when I got home; but then I tried to watch 60 Minutes and I was falling asleep in the chair, so I went upstairs to rest .

I am afraid it may be another unseemly hot and humid weather week coming up so I will have to gather all my patience to get through it again. Patience is key. Then next Saturday is the Clam Festival I have been waiting for for months. The one thing I probably missed most about Maine the last 2 summers. Let's just say I will kill the weather gods if there is not passable weather that day.

Kate