Touching down into Minneapolis

June 16, 1987

Rounding the corner of the spaghetti junction in St. Paul, I overtake a vehicle from Michigan. A young family inhabits it. It is a red station wagon - newer model with a plastic storage compartment on the roof. I find these containers quite unusual - they seem to not be all that functional - providing only as much space as a truck might offer. The most unusual aspect is the apparent lack of clutter in the back of the cars - mainly station wagons - no piles upon piles of blankets and suitcases. I imagine the people who benefit most from these devices are those industrious and terribly organized individuals who prefer to travel with only the bare necessities and stopping at night in luxurious hotels and eating in only the finest restaurants.

Although it was only the beginning of a hint of twilight, this station wagon driven by the dark-haired, breaded man from Michigan had its lights on - no less it had its brights on! I overtook them, as I stated, on the curve - accelerating past them on the inside. The lanes opened up. I switched lanes gracefully and as I raced forward into the 55 mile per hour zone. I glanced into my rear view mirror to see the bright lights becoming smaller and closer together in the distance.

The sun was setting in an orange-yellow orb ahead on the highway. Touching down into Minneapolis. I gripped the steering wheel with most of the pressure on my palms. My head was held up - not resting on the head rest - I could hear the bones in my neck squeaking. I could move my eyes upward to the right and see my friends from Michigan gaining on me. They saw me and they wanted to stay close. I had a good two block lead on them as I sailed past the Snelling Avenue bridge.

As I neared the exit to Vadnais, I quickly glanced into the mirror. My heart jumped. They were right upon me. I quickly glanced over my shoulder to check the newly opened lane for obstacles and caught the eye of the woman from Michigan. Her children were sitting forward, arms on the back of the front seat, excited, no doubt, by the nearness of the setting sun.

I pulled into the free lane. The lane I knew would take me past the slower lanes to the left of me - faster than the car from Michigan. Around the top of the turn and quickly change lanes back into the middle. My lane would soon be exiting only into the University. Near that exit ramp, a car had been stopped by a state patrol. I glanced at my speedometer and was surprised by my correct speed.

Onto the bridge, University Hospital is glanced as I switch lanes once again into the new right lane. The bridge connecting the east and west banks of the university. Thoughts of Cris and I walking on it. He holding my hand. And thoughts of Char. As I near the Riverside exit, I see the Michigan car rounding the corner in my mirror. Still the only car with lights on. I smile seeing that I have not lost them. My exit comes up quickly and I search for another glimpse of my friends but they are lost, never to be seen again.

Saturday, June 13, 1987
Driving home from Bayport

::Jealous::

I remembered this entry. It started a new book off with a bang. I thought my writing was snappy and suspenseful. I thought I packed in longing and loss. I am an adult now, and see judgment and jealously, imaginary drama and unsupported assumptions.

As an Aspergian, I see the world through Susan colored glasses. I am judge and juror. I am the standard bearer. I see and judge all. The poverty-stricken young mother in me had given up a comfortable upper-middle class upbringing because I had not seeing the path I should take because I was wearing my "Susan Shades".

I fumbled around until I discovered the "hippie path" at the Stillwater library. I had hippie friends, Scott and Conny, to discuss organic farming. His plot always looked better than mine, because he actually cared and I hated weeding. We traded ideas about how to preserve food. We talked a lot about building a dome house, raising goats and eschewing electricity /shudder. I sewed my own clothes - or altered those I found. I tie-dyed hand me down baby clothes to hide the stains.

I made "War Protest Signs" even though there was no war going on except the cold war. I was afraid of nuclear holocaust, so I put an ad in the paper asking people to meet at the library to form an Anti-Nuclear group. Unbelievably, we grew and became very successful. We staged protests downtown (Stillwater) and we bought proposals to Stillwater (rejected) and Washington County (accepted) to create a Nuclear Free Zone.

Since I was a vegetarian, I purchased food at the co-op and in bulk at the grocery store. I used cloth diapers at some point - ick! The early years of my marriage were when my "Susan shades" became opaque. Slowly, only people who acted the same as I did were "right", everyone else was "wrong". My way - or the highway! Which brings me back to this entry.

However endearing this writing has been to me over the years, typing them into this blog reveals them for what they really were. It is Raw Susan. I was jealous that a family had more than I did, that they could travel from state to state, that I imagined they could pay for a new car, stay at hotels, all the things I wished I could give my children.

I experienced those things growing up. I wanted my children to experience those things as well. They did eventually - when the next summer, I asked my parents to let me come back home, with my children, so I could finish school. I will be excited to tell that tale when I get to it.

This journey, stuck in my mind's eye, because I had written it down, reveals me for what I am. I judge. I judge based on my own criteria: The Susan Code. Before my Asperger's diagnosis, I wasn't as aware that I did this. I wasn't fully aware that others had thoughts of their own. I believed that everyone should agree with me, and I was surprised when they didn't.

Keep it simple

April 30, 1987

What I do and why...

A) I do not eat animals because there are peasants starving in South America because of rich Americans using all the fertile land to graze our cattle.

B) I recycle plastic bags because I know they never deteriorate.

C) I do not use unnecessary electrical appliances like hair dryers/food processors/blenders and the like.

D) I dry my clothes inside on wooden drying racks in the winter and outside on lines in the summer.

E) I teach my children that low tech and hand-made toys are more fun than glorified electric playthings - they agree.

F) I buy wild rice that I am assured is grown in Minnesota Not California because it protects the Indians livelihood.

G) I respect the environment. Do not litter. My children do not litter. I dispose of toxic chemicals safety or as directed on the containers say to do so.

H) The only thing I think I must change is that I throw away pop cans. I am distressed by my lack of enthusiasm when it comes to saving them.

Like a textbook Aspie, I believe the above is a writing prompt about what we believe and why. I guess I took it a bit too literally. Like many twenty year olds, I was extremely environmentally and socially conscious. I sewed my children's clothes, I spun wool and knit - but mostly toys - I never could finish a sweater. I shopped at my local coop - it is now the Mayday Cafe in Minneapolis. 

I was a vegetarian for 8 years. I suddenly threw out all the meat products that I had in the house after reading Diet for a Small Planet. At the time of this journal entry, I was at the near end of my vegetarianism. When I decided to eat meat again, I waited until the kids were in bed asleep, and then walked down to the corner cafe. I brought home an entire rack of ribs. I ate them all, sitting on the floor, gnawing on the bones. Yum. There is no way tofu or beans can replace a BBQ rack of ribs. I didn't get sick either.

I am amused by the statement that I don't like to use electrical appliances. I actually am FREAKED out by things that have motors. I like hand tools. I remember my sisters gave me a food processor for my birthday and my first thought was "Why would they give me this when I love to chop vegetables?" Now there is a great example of an undeveloped Theory of Mind. How could they know I liked chopping vegetables? I love slicing vegetables, and washing them, and preparing them. I have a zen-like attitude towards cooking. I love to cook - the process of cooking is calming. I cut my vegetables in perfect slices, even, uniform. I eat the mess ups - or throw them to my dog to eat. 

The whole idea that I was not using motorized items for some sort of Utopian ideal is ridiculous. I won't touch the lawn mower. I won't touch the snow blower. I will not touch the leaf blower. Motors scare me. My husband Anthony is supposed to cut the lawn when it gets long. He works a lot, and gets home late, so he rarely has the energy to mow on a weekday. He is pretty cute when he decides to mow. He has a routine he follows when he is going to mow. First he thinks of all the things he might need to buy, and then goes shopping. Then he puts on his mowing outfit, special yard shoes, shorts, yard gloves, hat and his ipod. He mows and bags the yard waste, even though he says he has a mulching blade - whatever that is. I stay inside and watch him, in case he runs himself over and loses a foot or something. He says there is a safety thing on it that will stop the blade if he lets go of the handle - but you can never be too certain around motors. /shiver

I have been mulching the yard. I was upset because the neighbor lady who mows like clockwork every third day was mowing our side yard. Maybe she did it to be nice - that's what Anthony said. I thought she was doing it to take our yard over - that happens sometimes doesn't it? When you care for someone's property without the owner telling you to back off? Well - that is what I thought she was doing. So when I got 7 trees cut down in my yard (they were dead - well 5 of them were...) I asked the tree guys to leave me the chips. I used a plat drawing to measure from the corner of the cul de sac to figure out where our property line was and erected some stakes. I tied some line to the stakes, then the neighbor came out. We discussed the property line and came to an agreement. I repositioned the lines. 

Then I put yard cloth over the carefully mowed grass and mulched it. All over. The whole side of the yard. All wood chipped. The next summer, I started planting flowers in the area. It looks great. I started mulching the rest of the yard too. The less Anthony mows, the more grass I am taking away. It is a silent yard war. I believe this must be another case of Theory of Mind, because I am not taking Anthony's opinion into account. I just dig up an area and make a garden without discussion. 

Keep it simple indeed. Maybe in my own mind it is simple, because I am singular minded.