In a home cloaked in Autism, many common words and their definition blur. When a simple noun, like iron, most likely a supplement to treat anemia, or the invention used to smooth wrinkles out of clothing at a certain temprature……transmutes into something far else. Say, the device that teeters precariously above the washing machine, next to the laundry soap…..that eventually will clonk onto an unsuspecting passer-by at any random moment.

Listed here, for your enjoyment, are some refined meanings of the words used in our humble, socially- awkward home:

Excessive: The need for our two Bichon Frise dogs to go in and out of the back door 12 times all while typing this short blog. And, might I mention, never in tandem.

Strange: The need for my now adult son on the Spectrum to play synthesized Christmas music (no words, only synthe) in March….at 9 in the morning.

Bizarre: Those families who make and eat one meal – without alterations – together.

Travel: All together as a family, never happening, who will take care of the dogs?

Camping: See Travel.

Simple: My husband who seems to over-enjoy poorly executed zombie movies…..all the time.

Medication: Supplements, and only supplements.

Painful: The moment you realize there are no clean towels in the house even though you have completed 10 loads of laundry.

Clean: My sons, considering the number of showers and baths they take daily.

Restaurant: That place just out of reach where each of our family members can order something they will actually put in their mouth and chew at the same time and at the same table.

Dinner: Sometimes, a glass of wine.

Dinner: Three separate meals, executed by the chef most competent to complete the task as designated by the crowd.

Dinner: Made by the person who only wants a glass of wine.

Dinner: Impossible.

(Excuse me, I have to let one of the dogs out.)

Mystery: Whenever the author of this blog needs to use one of the number of tech tools supposedly located in our home – it will invariably be out of ink, out of order or will have simply vanished.

McDonalds: Where the devil lives.

Port Wine Cheese Ball: A food group.

Hole: A design feature on all my socks.

Closet: Where all my cute clothes went to die.

Ear Buds: The ones to my iPod. Vanished.

Newspaper: Dirty paper left on the living room floor during the morning conquest for coffee, yogurt and a Cliff Bar.

iPad: Specifically my iPad. An amazing device that must be surrendered promptly when my youngest son comes home from high school.

Money: More dirty paper NOT found on the living room floor.

Girls: The dogs who now want back in the house.

Green Food: According to some around here to be considered poisonous.

Genetic: An inability to do the dishes, a paternal contribution to the puzzle.

Lightbulb: Stolen globe that emits light taken upstairs to light up the lamp in the youngest sons room, again. (Never mind the supply that is located in the laundry room, next to the iron.)

Prius: The silent stalker that, alternatitively, sounds like a sewing machine going uphill – that replaced my Jaguar.

Handsome: A manly look that is gauged by how much cologne is worn.

And lastly,

My Life: Worth it.

~ Wendy Frye

“Never be bullied into silence. Never allow yourself to be made a victim. Accept no one’s definition of your life; define yourself.” ~ Harvey Fierstein


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