Speech & Language: A Child's Perogative

Here's what I have to say about this video, as a Speech/Language Pathologist who has worked with toddlers for over 25 years. Though this child is an exceptionally intelligent and language advanced child, he still demonstrates what's possible, even at age 3. The typical pediatrician will too often tell the concerned parent not to be concerned that their 2 1/2 year old is not talking. Give him/her time. Lots of kids don't speak until later. Wrong. Most are speaking, starting with single words around age 1 and full sentences by 3. Moral of the story, consult a Speech Therapist if you are concerned, regardless of what the doctor says.    

Rally to Restore Sanity: I Never Want to Say, I Wish I'd Been There

I was one of the 200,00?, 150,000? 7,000, 500,000? (attendance depends on who you ask or watch or listen to, but having been there and having also been to President Obama's Inauguration, January 20, 2009, where I believe it was said there were over one million people, this one felt almost as crowded and well attended). Attendance aside, it was an event to be reckoned with and to be attended. If there's one thing I hate, it is to have to say, after an event, "Damn, I wish I had gone". So when my intuition says attend, I make every effort to do so and thus attended the Rally to Restore Sanity imagined and executed by Jon Stewart and his producers/ The March to Keep Fear Alive, co-executed by Stephen Colbert on Saturday, October 30, 2010.

Finding a partner in crime was the first obstacle to overcome. As is often my way, I search for these partners through the social networks online, specifically Craig's List. Out of many responses to my ad, I found and chose a lovely person who seemed equally informed, interested and willing to become involved in this endeavor. I'll refrain from naming him here out of respect for his privacy, though he is tagged on my photos on facebook, as well as my google web picture album. So much for privacy


 Finding a way to get to the event was the second obstacle. Driving was an option, but parking in the city was not and having to make a choice and plan for a one day trip or a stay over, made this option complicated. Thanks to the DC Rally Bus, it took little time to find a bus going from Morristown, NJ to Union Station in Washington, DC for the cost of $60 round trip. As the ad said, This is a good alternative to Greyhound or any other bus line. For one, everyone on these buses will be going to D.C. for the same reason! In addition, many bus lines (and Amtrak trains), will be inundated the weekend of the rally. As it turned out, this advice was true. There were free buses leaving from NYC, but I heard at the rally that they had their share of problems, one being arriving late. Our bus ride to and from the rally was flawless.

The only problem about this bus trip was that we had to be at the bus at 4:30 AM (that's AM, as in the dark, sleepy hours of the morning). So, after about 4 hours of sleep, we arose, got ready and sleepily went out in the dark, found the parking garage and bus without incident and I for one, proceeded to sleep, or at least keep my eyes closed for the 4 1/2 hours of the trip. Other than the inconvenience of taking out and putting in my contact lenses, it wasn't as bad as it seemed it would be.

We were greeted in DC by a glorious Fall morning, at a crisp 50-something degrees, a bit of a breeze, blue skies and the ubiquitous Capitol Building seemingly everywhere we turned. The only problem, as I saw it, was that I had not had any coffee, nor anything to eat. Bob, had, perhaps more wisely than me, chosen to get a cup at Dunkin Donuts, along with a muffin before getting onto the bus. I wanted to sleep, thus refrained from the caffeine. Once out of the bus, the need for caffeine became an issue. So, I thought, let's cross the wide avenue, enter Union Station and get some coffee and something sweet to eat. On second thought, let's not, so as to take advantage of arriving in DC earlier than I'd usually done for past rallies, thus perhaps getting a good viewing spot at the rally. So we walked toward the Mall. Soon we saw some people with nice large cups of steaming coffee, asked them where they were purchased, were told Union Station, and so we turned around toward Union Station. After just a few steps, the idea of a good position took precedence once again and thus, once more we turned around heading for the Mall. My luck was that Bob was quite patient ( a lot more than I would have been, had the situation been reversed). We were told that coffee could be found at the vendors in the Mall, and that thought sustained me, well, at least until the default headache set in.  Caffeine addiction has it's consequences.

Long story short, I never did get my coffee, nor did I find anything to eat, as had been promised in the pre-rally information. Yes, there was one vendor on our side of the barrier fences (which could not be passed without the assured risk of not being allowed back in), and the vendor did have a small variety of foods and drinks, including coffee, but they ran out  way before the 10 o'clock hour at which we arrived. What was left was potato chips and soda and water (thankfully, I had brought a water bottle, but I had left my lunch bag with fruit, yogurt and peanut butter and chocolate protein bars in the bus, being assured there would be sustenance to purchase at the rally). The line for food was at least a quarter mile long, but I got on it anyway. After about a quarter of an hour, I realized how foolish it was to be standing there for what would likely be over an hour or more in order to get a bag of potato chips as my award for my patience. So, as it turned out, The Rally To Restore Sanity turned out, at least for me, to be another "enforced Yom Kippur". But, I'm not complaining. Really. The hunger passes and then you forget about it. Really.

That was what you might call the downside of the rally. But there were many more upsides to compensate. The weather was perfect

There were a lot of people to meet and chat up.

We waited a long time before the actual events began, leaving me time to sit and read my book on Kindle.

There were lots of like minded people which is always satisfying.

Ans some not so like minded. Way over there to the right.

And even a HAWK!

We got to watch Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert...on a screen.

And there were lots and lots and lots of great SIGNS!!!

And Port-A-Potties galore.

Even Rosie the Riveter has to go sometime!

I got some interesting viewpoints.

Some of it was wacky. 

Some of it was serious.

And there were  more good signs.

And after it all, we got to rest a bit.

We walked to the train station where later we'd be meeting our bus home.

We bought dinner in the Union Train Station and ate it out in front of the station.

Another tea bagger.

And in the end, a plea for tolerance.


See Me Hear Me Touch Me Feel Me

My biggest sadness with men is that they tend to talk, talk, talk about themselves and do not ask much about me. Yes, I can just offer information, but I detect a lack of interest, or, at least, that's how I interpret it. I will know I've met the right man, when after I've told him something personal, or something about my work or my political stance or anything that is important to me and he asks for clarification or more information; he shows me he is listening, that he cares. Until then, I guess, I'll continue listening and sometimes feigning interest, when it get to be too much for me. We all want to be seen, heard, and to be understood. I really, really want to be seen, heard and understood.

Another source of sadness and disappointment and sometimes anger for me when it comes to men and relationships, is that sex, sexuality and sensuality, while having the potential to be one of the best parts of two people relating to one another, so often falls far short of that.

I am a baby-boomer, a product of the women's movement and I owned at least one copy of "Our Bodies, Ourselves", and read it cover to cover. Shere Hite's, "The Hite Report", the 1976 mother of all publications on female sexuality was read by me in Israel in 1977 or 78. It was my woman awakening bible.

Sex has always been important to me, but too often a disappointment. Men are tuned in visually. For me, the visual sense is probably the least important when it comes to sexual excitement. By far, touch is the most heightened and the most important. I also think, well, I know for me, that though a sexual encounter can definitely be a one night stand, when it goes on longer, it changes the dynamic of the relationship. And the dynamic is definitely not casual. Sex, when it's good is so personal, so intimate and so close and it adds so much to the relationship; it adds an array of feelings that the sex itself brings forth.
I LOVE good repartee. I love to laugh in response to what the man I am with says and to hear him laugh at what I say. I like innuendos, sexual and otherwise.

A Love Poem:

I love a big, brass bed
With billowing pillows
On a cold winter's night
All snuggled within.
I love a wet red wine
In a large round wine glass
With a long thin stem
Sitting on the bed-side table
Waiting for lovers to sip it dry.
And a tray full of fruit
Maybe figs and some peaches
Juicy and ripe
Waiting to be eaten.

One thing that was for certain in 1975 and continues to be in 2010 is that, when it comes to love, I am always open to persuasion, Love with Affection is Always better than without and it remains true that with a friend I can laugh, but with a lover I can roll my head back and really laugh. So, I guess you could say that I'm not looking for more than an Armatracing aficionado, but just enough.

I want to learn to love better. I want to learn to give and receive more openly and freely.

Every once in a while, I think I am seen by you, truly for who I am, and that keeps me coming back.

All Strings Attached

I like a person who knows what he likes and wants to know what she likes
I am most at ease by myself because I find I do the things that suit me best and for which I am best suited.
I like to listen when it's quiet and the only sound is that of water, be it in the form of waves crashing in at the shore or fresh water babbling along a brook.
I like to read.
I like to hike when the purpose is to stop and find the salamanders
I like museums, art, history, photography and I love discussing what I"m seeing with a partner who is comfortable with personal observations and knows something about which he is talking.
I like to walk along the beach, stop, kiss, stop, look up and be delighted with what we see, feel and do.
I love theater and I want a theater mate who loves straight plays and Broadway musicals both small and large and that money was never a deterrent.
I like large beds and soft sheets and soft downy pillows.
I like music. I mean, I really like music.

It is neither easy nor desirable to get intimate with a man with whom there is no chance of intimacy beyond the bedroom.

Like the Mae West quote says, sex is emotion in motion, the operative word being, emotion.

It has to be "real" (as in the Velveteen Rabbit, "real"),



That's Sherril in Webdings