My Best Friend's Kid Has Asperger's

...just found out last week. Still reeling, even though I, of course knew some form of Autism was the likely diagnosis.

We decided in a drunken stupor do redecorate her room as her retail therapy. I'm looking for chaises and hunting down paint colors. It's the only goddamn thing I can do to help.

Update: Askville folks had some great resources for family friends of Asperger's kids. Read the suggestions here.

Not So Down With That Cluck

Last year we tried to find a Chick-Fil-A for La Gringa in Salt Lake...an hour went by wandering the streets around the Mormon Temple before we gave up completely and ate some crappy airport food. This year, we were determined to prevail:

2 p.m. -- Begin to track down the Clucker Burger on La Gringa's iPhone.

2:30- p.m. -- Head straight onto a no-turn highway headed for Park City after Google Maps advises us to: "Exit onto I80 West. Veer right onto I80 East."

2:45 p.m. -- La Gringa and I begin a "gentle disagreement" where I want to blow off the Big G and little i and call 411. Begrudgingly, she does. We call the number for Chick-Fil-A and...it's disconnected.

3 p.m. -- Find our way to downtown where a street worker tells us to find the damn chook and looks at us rather weird, pointing us to 50 Main Street. Finding the address, we found the entire building being torn down as.we.drove.by.

3:15 p.m. -- In fits, I mean F-ing fits, we finally break down and ask a driver where the hell this goddamn chicken shop is. She gives us exact directions: they take us dead-stop into the Delta Center, home of the Utah Jazz. Unless Carlos Boozer is a clucker-in-disguise, we were, again, in the wrong place.

3:30 p.m. -- Mouthwatering we find a mall where we hear there's a chick shop inside. We find a planitarium and a nice little lady that tells us that there's no poultry in sight.

3:45 p.m. -- We find a CPK, which thrills Thing 1 when he tells us that CPK and "Triple A" (Chick-Fil-A) rhyme.

Bastard.

Maybe next year...

"You Didn't Say 'Soccer'...You Said 'Fucker'

We're in Snowbird cuddled up watching AI, dipping in the in-room hot tub, drinking near-beer and spending some kickass time with the kids. They are a fricking crackup.

Last night driving in the snow in the dark, some dork left on his brights when coming around the curb and blinded my driving; I said "Fuck," which promptly was repeated in the backseat: "FUCK! FU-CKKK! WHAT'S FUCK, MOMMY?!"

La Gringa of course, covered up with She said, "Sucks." They bought it.

A second driver zooming by a 60mph on a road I was driving at 20mph and it just slipped, "You Fucker!" in which Thing 2 says "You said 'FUCK. YOU DIDN'T SAY SUCKER, AND YOU DIDN'T SAY SOCCER. YOU SAID FUCKER!"

Falling into fits of laughter, our family trip begins: happy, funny, silly kidlets. La Gringa and I cracking up. I think La Gringa got it right when she said, "This is my favorite group of people, period."