Not Sure What To Make Of This

I often wonder if there is something wrong with me and the way I think and interact (or don’t, as the case usually is) with other people.  Actually, I have thought known suspected this since I was very young.  For a short time, I imagined myself a misunderstood genius.  Then I got some humility and figured I was just depressed.  Eventually I decided it was my personality quirk, and by this time I was 40 and a lot more comfortable in my own skin anyway, so it wasn’t as big of a deal as when I was, say, 14 and really wishing I were more like other kids (while at the same time feeling glad that I wasn’t like other kids).  (Is it still angst when you’re happy about your issues?)

Last month I took the Meyers Briggs survey and my personality type came back as INTJ, which is apparently very rare, especially for women.  That suited me just fine, as I really like being odd.  Or, more honestly, I really didn’t want to be typical.

Recently, I have been reading about Aspergers Syndrome and decided to find out what, exactly, are the characteristics of a person with Aspergers.  We hear the phrase “Aspergers Syndrome” and “autism” and “autism spectrum” all the time, often times interchangeably.  I wanted to know the difference and, almost as importantly, how a person got labeled as such.  This led me to an online test.  Now, I realize I just wrote the words an online test, which should probably raise suspicion in my own mind as much as it likely does in yours.  Regardless, I took the test.  And guess what?  This online test says I probably have Aspergers.

Your AQ Test Score is: 34

The official criteria for Aspergers Syndrome is an AQ score greater than 32.
According to statistical analysis, 26 – 31 Is a borderline score. 86% of people with this score can be correctly classified as having Aspergers Syndrome. Enter your email address below to our receive our free mini course on Asperger’s Syndrome.

Huh.

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Sad News

I think my coffee pot is dying.

When it works it works fine, if that makes any sense.  The trouble appears to be with the circuitry that controls the on-off button.  Sometimes the pot just won’t turn on, other times it won’t turn off after it’s done brewing.  It has a “gourmet” button that makes it brew a little differently than the standard drip-coffee-maker way.  I won’t pretend to understand exactly what it’s doing, but it involves about 30% more coffee grounds and more water per cup and it makes a noticeable difference and that’s how I like my coffee now.  And sometimes the gourmet button won’t work, either.  Damn.

But I am stalling at buying a new pot, because this one’s only a year old.  Plus, the problem is only intermittent and I can usually, with some swearing-under-the-breath and some plugging-and-unplugging of the device, get it to work with the gourmet button (because without it, I would just pull out the French press and not even bother with the electric thing).

I have become suspicious of my coffee pot, though, and nice features like the set-ahead timer and the automatic turn-off after an hour aren’t reliable and make me nervous, so I unplug it as soon as it brews and put the coffee in a vacuum carafe instead of using the warming plate.  I probably ought to just get a new one.

And really, in the time it took to write all this down and complain about it, I could have just gone over to Amazon and bought it already.

Be Careful What You Wish For

I probably spend waaaay too much of my already-excessive internet usage looking at the weather.  Aside from email, my most-often-visited bookmark is not Google, or Facebook, or even Ravelry, but weather.gov.  It’s an illness, I’m sure.

In February, which somehow manages to be the longest, darkest, coldest, most miserable month for having the fewest calendar days, we had a lovely 14″ of snow.  We got 20.6″ of the white stuff in March.  Both months were almost 50% above average precipitation.  I vaguely remember wishing for less snow.

In April, we got our wish: no snow.  Instead we got rain.  Lots and lots and lots of rain.  It rained 20 out of 30 days in April.  We had 6.87″ of it,  practically 3.5″ over average.  In May there was even more: 8.32″, more than twice the normal amount.

By June everyone was either bailing out their basements, drunk or moving to another climate.  But finally, the rain stopped.  We ended up with just 2″ of rain that month, and only 6 days with any noticeable precipitation.  However, it was cool-ish.  I didn’t mind, but some foolhardy folks got greedy and wanted it to be summer or something.  They must have practiced some seriously powerful weather voodoo, because we got summer.  We got it’s-the-equator-of-the-sun summer.  We got the kind of summer that is antithesis to our Ohio winters, the hole-up-and-hide-in-the-house kind.  Because it’s now been like two weeks with temperatures in the upper 90s, more than 15 degrees above average.  And now we have a drought.  

JULY 23 MAXIMUM: 90

JULY 22 MAXIMUM 98

JULY 21 MAXIMUM 97

JULY 20 MAXIMUM 93

JULY 19 MAXIMUM 89

JULY 18  MAXIMUM 91

JULY 17 MAXIMUM 89

JULY 16 MAXIMUM 87

And I am rather disappointed with these statistics because they don’t take into account the oppressive humidity and thus the heat index, which yesterday was 102 degrees F.

I promise to never complain about snow again until next February.

Randomness and Pudding

It’s the Ides of March, but forget all that blather about being wary today: winter’s finally ebbing.  It’s hanging on, but steadily losing steam.  Now that our 2+ feet of snow has melted, there are perky springy buds all over the place, and zillions of daffodil shoots poking up everywhere    My neighbor claims she planted over 700 bulbs in her garden last fall.  That will be a brilliant display, and you can bet there will be me and every other person in the neighborhood with a camera standing in the street taking photos once they finally bloom.

I made rice pudding today.  Been craving it since last week, when a friend and I went to some cute dinky diner for supper.  Rice pudding was on the menu, but they were sold out.  Damn.  I hadn’t particularly wanted any til they said it was all gone, and now it’s all I can do not to eat the entire pot here at one sitting.

I’ve been knitting like a fiend, sometimes working on socks but mostly doing a shawl that I decided, last-minute, would be nice to have for an early April wedding.  I want to finish it while the motivation lasts.  That window of opportunity is dangerously small.  Fortunately, so is the amount of knitting left to go on it.

Our garden seeds arrived over the weekend, and S-almost-6 and I spent a lovely afternoon planting some of them in peat pots.  We sorted the seed packets into piles of “start inside weeks early” and “sow directly after all danger of frost has passed”.  There’s one small pile for peas, because those get sown outside but early.  They’re rebels, those peas.

Finally, my husband had a job interview in another state.  I have no freaking clue what is going to happen with that.  The interview went very well, they called back a few days later to ask him some followup questions about salary, and then… nothing.  Two weeks have now passed. He’s adopted the “just forget about it and act as if we’re going to die here” attitude.  I’m not that placid, unfortunately.  I just want to know, one way or the other, what the hell is going on.

Guess I’ll just have some more rice pudding while we wait.

Creamy Rice Pudding

  • 1 1/2 cups cooked white rice
  • 1/3 cup white sugar
  • 1/4 tsp salt
  • 2 cups milk, divided
  • 1 large egg at room temperature
  • 3/4 – 1 cup raisins
  • 1 tsp vanilla
  • 1 T butter

Combine cooked rice, sugar, salt and 1 1/2 cups of the milk in a saucepan.  Heat on medium flame until thick and creamy, about 15-20 minutes.  Stir regularly to prevent milk from scorching.  Combine 1/2 cup milk, egg, and raisins and pour into rice mixture.  Cook 2 minutes more, stirring constantly.  Remove from heat, stir in vanilla and butter, and let cool slightly.  Pudding will thicken as it cools.  Serve while still warm.

and buds and green all over the place.

If The Shoe Fits

It’s quite telling that my last NaBloPoMo post for July was actually written on August 1.  Okay, if you want to be all technical about it, it’s 1:25 AM at the moment, so I guess that’s really August 2.  Whatever.

I don’t have much to say about NaBloPoMo, other than it is amazing how a little competitiveness and a fear of public failure can motivate even the lamest blogger (ahem… you’ve found her) to churn out 31 posts in as many days.  And let’s not nit-pick about the quality of said posts, shall we?  This time, it’s the quantity that matters.

Sadly, this was definitely an exercise, and I’m not regretting that it’s over.  (So why do it?)  (A very good question.  Perhaps I shall discover the answer in a separate conversation with myself.)  But I think the CSA posts will continue, since they’re somewhat useful (and brainless, which is always helpful in matters of routine).  And hopefully there will be something besides shorn landscaping to discuss on the subject of the garden.  (As a matter of fact, the first female flower of the year bloomed on the pumpkin vine yesterday, so there’s a possibility that we might actually get some fruit!  Yay!)

(Oh, and I promise to cut out all these ridiculous parenthetical remarks.  They’re making it painfully obvious just how scatterbrained I really am.)

Nothing To Do Today

Today was an absolutely fabulous day.

This was the first day out of the past 16 days where I did not have anything scheduled to do. No where to be. It is only the 2nd day this month where nothing was written on the calendar (today and July 6). And for a home-body (with hermit tendencies), that was perfectly fine. More than fine, in fact. And to top it off, it rained, which worked out very well since I am in the middle of clearing out my office/studio. And we all know there’s nothing better to do on a rainy day than drink a hot mug of something and go through old pictures, papers and stuff. I actually made some progress. Perhaps tomorrow, there might even be a photograph of my shiny clean space.

Perhaps.  I don’t want to put it on the calendar, of course.