Friday, March 20, 2015

Where Is My.... ahhhhh....

The older I get, the more I have stuffed in my brain to forget.

The worse is walking into the kitchen to fill my coffee cup, setting it down somewhere, then spending the next twenty minutes trying to figure out where I put it. I will usually find it after I've poured a fresh new cup.

My dear Aspie Spouse has no rhyme nor reason to his forgetfulness. He remembers the name of some random person he took a class with ten years ago, but can't remember the names of the couple we go to bible study with weekly.

He remembers the size of every engine ever built by Ford, Chrysler and Chevy, gear ratios for all rearends, torque numbers for various heads, model numbers for all of his larger tools, but he can't seem to remember birthdays or anniversaries of his immediate family.

He can't remember I told him we have our youngest son Manlet's high school baseball games  this week on Monday, Wednesday and Friday.

Today is the first day of spring, and our 22nd anniversary.

Yes, I know - I do deserve a medal for bravery and endurance.

I received a text from The Hubster yesterday saying that he would be heading to Manlet's high school when he got off from work.

"when?" I texted back.

"From work now?" he replied.

"i don't understand" I shot back since I was on a call as he was texting me.

"What time is Manlet's game today?" was the texted response.

"what game?" texted I as my call ended. The heck with this. I called Steve.

"What game are you talking about?" I asked.

"Isn't there a baseball game today?" answered The Hubster quizzically.

"Ummm, no," I said. "He has a game tomorrow, which is also our anniversary."

"Do you want to go out to a nice dinner?" It was thoughtful for him to ask, but I didn't.

"No, Steve. I want to watch Manlet's game. It starts at 4:00 p.m. and will probably finish around 7:00 p.m. We might want to join the other team families at Ixtapa's in town afterwards." We often do this, especially after a win. We love our local Mexican restaurant.

"But it's our anniversary and you get mad when I forget," reasons my puzzled mate.

"I appreciate that you haven't forgotten, Dear, but we won't be able to do anything 'special' tomorrow. I'm okay with that." I try to explain.

I could hear the gears in Hubby's mind grinding away. I gave him a few more minutes to think, and then after continued silence I said goodbye and hung up.

He's probably still trying to figure out his next move, lol.

Meanwhile, I shall strut about today congratulating myself for my stick-to-it-tiveness and laughing when I finally find my coffee cup that I set down somewhere...

Friday, March 13, 2015

Oh Crap

What a weekend. Mid 60s, clear blue skies, tree blossoms and flowers erupting everywhere, birds and bees busy doing their spring things.

To me, absolutely glorious.

Hubby must not have hibernated long enough this winter. He was unbearable the last few days. Even though official spring is still a couple of weeks away, daylight begins is sooner and dusk is later. All reasons for me to rejoice, but not The Hubster.

Saturday he was able to work on his various car projects all day uninterrupted. I would have thought that he would be happy. Not even close.

When he came in at 6:30 I started to suggest we go out for dinner, but the rumbling growl that emanated from him squelched that idea immediately. I jumped in my car, and dashed to the local market.

On my way home I texted said Spouse, asking he turn on the bbq for our beautiful 8 ounce rib eye steaks.

No reply. I sent a second text. Nada, nothing, zilch.

I called. Not once, not twice, but three separate times.

No answer.

When I unlocked the front door, juggling my various bags of groceries,  he remained glued to his chair in the livingroom totally unresponsive.

"Sweetie, where is your phone? I tried to get hold of you for you to start the barbeque for me. I have steaks! "

He barely acknowledged my existence as I proceeded to deposit my acquisitions noisily on the kitchen counters. Oh, no problem Dear, I'll get the doors myself.

"I'm charging it," grumbles He.

"We've talked about this before, Dear. I need to be able to contact you when I'm gone. We haven't had a land line in years. Can you plug your charger in here by your recliner?"

After a long silence, Hubby finally admits that he never thought of that.

"But what if I forget that my charger is here in the livingroom, so when I to bed tonight I won't be able to charge my phone and it will be dead in the morning?" worries He of limited memory.

"I have faith in you," I said quickly. "I bet you will look at that empty space on the vanity where you normally have your charger plugged into your phone each night you would say 'Gosh, where is my charger?'. You would then respond to yourself, 'Oh yes, I left it in the livingroom.'"

(Aforementioned conversation would be verbal, of course.)

"Hmmmm." was his hesitant response. It was not a positive sound.

Our bbq was started, dinner was made and served, the end result consisting of contented rumblings from the Head of the Table.

I can live with this.

At least today, lol.

Friday, March 6, 2015

Are You Listening?

Hubby is home from work. I know this for a fact since the house, blissfully peace-filled just a few moments ago, now reverberates with crashing doors, foot stomps, slammed lunch box on counter, angry/anxiety ridden inhales and exhales, and a barely masked growling.


"How did your day go, Sweetie?" I ask benignly. 

There was an almost inaudible rumbling from my deep voiced Mate, but due to the thunderous storm clouds surrounding said mate's countenance I decided to pass on asking him for a more distinct repeat. It's odd how my Aspie demands that we speak slowly and clearly to him with our mouths directed towards him, but he usually mumbles his responses to us while facing away from us. 

"Ah hah," I respond. 

I wait for a few minutes as he empties his lunchbox, wipes the interior, then puts it up in it's place in the pantry.

Funny thing about this ritual. Steve often takes something out in the kitchen to use, but steadfastly refuses to put it back where it had been. He insists that the kitchen is his too, and he should be able to keep things wherever he wishes.

I have no problem with that, except that he never puts something away in the same place twice, with the exception of his lunchbox. Which I never need to locate. Therefore I spend an inordinate amount of time searching for gadgets and gizmos that I need for meal preparation. Occasionally so much so that I forget what I was there for!

"Do you have plans for this evening?" I ask, trying to determine the best time to have supper ready. 

There is no response from The Hubster. Instead he heads over to our pellet stove to check if it needs filling. This is a mandatory, just returned home from work chore that must be completed within four minutes of arrival. I haven't actually noticed it in The Rule Book, but I've been assured in the past that it's there.

"Manlet is at baseball practice which should end about six. I have to be at school by six for a spring sports parents meeting. I'm trying to figure out when I should make supper," I said as I follow him from the kitchen through the dining room.

Still no answer from Steve, though he seems puzzled that the pellet stove seems as full today as when he filled it up yesterday. Since he is just standing and staring, I decided to enlighten him.

"I haven't heard the stove kick on all day. Perhaps it needs cleaning." 

Our pellet stoves, this one on the main floor and the one in the basement, occasionally need ashes removed and a quick vacuuming in order to run properly. Apparently this need for cleaning would hold true for today, as Hubby slams down the hopper lid, turns on his heel nearly bowling me over, then stomps off to retrieve the shop vac. The very vacuum that has "shop" in it's name but that he refuses to keep in his shop, insisting that he has to keep it in the basement next to that level's pellet stove in case he needs to clean one of the stoves, which in turn requires him to run from the shop to the house when he needs to use it in the shop, then necessitates his running it back to the basement when he is done with it in the shop of which it was named for. 

Which makes no sense to me.

I go ahead and begin meal preparation, thinking that I can grab my supper before I leave, have it ready for Manlet when he walks in the door starving, and The Hubster can help himself to whenever he is ready.

As the banging and clanging has ceased by the pellet stove in dining room, I deem supper done. I turn to see Steve standing like a deer caught in headlights behind me.

"Oh good, you heard me! Why didn't you answer?" I asked.

"Of course I heard you!" said The Hubster gruffly. 

I laugh. "Well, I don't know if you did or not when you don't acknowledge or answer."

"Why would I have to do that?" blurts my Aspie. "I just don't care!"

Ah hah. Exactly. Now why didn't I know that, lol.

Thursday, March 5, 2015

Same Old Same Old

A little over three years ago I began blogging about my marriage to a (mostly) wonderful man who has Aspergers Syndrome.

My first post was an eye opener for me. To set my thoughts and feelings down in black and white was a process that was scary, enlightening, thought provoking, confusing, amusing, and downright fun.

Coffee And Bagels was written on Valentines Day 2012. Off I went from there.

I've slowed down a bit on my posting as I felt that I was being redundant. I keep having the same situations, deal with the same headaches, have the same frustrations.

Looking back through old posts, I can't help but think that nothing at all has changed. My Hubby still doesn't communicate well. He still tries to guess future actions, events, and conversations. He still zones out or zones in, forgetting the world around him.

My husband still has Aspergers Syndrome.

My life, however, is different and I am different.

I have read hundreds of books, articles, blogs, emails, threads and posts. I have learned that I am not alone. There are so many people around the world that experience the "same old" situations that I have, and are also able to work through them, control their emotions, and (yes indeed), laugh about them!

I love you guys.

I am back. I am counting my blessings. I am writing.

Add a couple of good belly laughs, and we are ready to go.

Look out world, another Aspie lover is vocal again!