#food mention

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cool fact if you go to The Shed in Las Cruces, New Mexico you can see Really Rad Original Claire Art

cool fact if you go to The Shed in Las Cruces, New Mexico you can see Really Rad Original Claire Art© on a cork board by the restrooms


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teaboot:

twinkling–vixen:

candidlyautistic:

teaboot:

This may just be my experience as an autistic person, but the kids I’ve nannied whose parent’s complain of ‘bad awful in cooperative selfish autistic behavior’ are… Not like that? At all?

Like, for example, I cared for a kid for a while who was nonverbal and didn’t like being touched. Around six years old? Their parent said that they were fussy and had a strict schedule, and that they had problems getting them to eat. Their last few nannies had quit out of frustration.

So, I showed up. And for the first little while, it was awkward. The kid didn’t know me, I didn’t know them, you know how it is. And for the first… Day and a half, maybe? I fucked up a few times.

I changed their diaper and they screamed at me. I put the TV off and they threw things. Not fun, but regular upset kid stuff.

Next time, I figured, hell, I wouldn’t like being manhandled and ordered around either. Who likes being physically lifted out of whatever it is they’re doing and having their pants yanked off? Fucking few, that’s who.

Next time, I go, ‘hey, kiddo. You need a new diaper?’ and check. ‘I’m gonna go grab a new one and get you clean, okay?’ ‘Wanna find a spot to lay down?’ ‘Alright, almost done. Awesome job, thanks buddy’.

I learned stuff about them. They liked a heads up before I did anything disruptive. They didn’t mind that I rattled of about nothing all day. They didn’t like grass or plastic touching their back. They were okay with carpets and towels. They liked pictionary, and the color yellow, and fish crackers, and painting. They didn’t look me in the face (which was never an issue- I hate that too, it fucking sucks) but I never had reason to believe that they were ignoring me.

Once I learned what I was doing wrong, everything was fine. Did they magically “”“become normal”“” and start talking and laughing and hugging? No, but we had fun and had a good time and found a compromise between what I was comfortable with and what they were comfortable with. (For the record, I didn’t magically sailor-moon transform into a socially adept individual, either. In case anyone was wondering.)

I don’t like eye contact. It’s distracting and painful and stresses me out.

They didn’t like eye contact either.

Is eye contact necessary to communication? No. So we just didn’t do it.

Was there ever a situation where I HAD to force them to drop everything and lay down on the lawn? No. So the thirty second warning came into play, and nobody died.

“But they never talked!”

No, they didn’t. And they didn’t know ASL, and they didn’t like being touched.

So you know what happened?

My third day in, they tugged on my shirt. ‘Hey monkey, what’s up?’ I asked. And they tugged me towards the kitchen. ‘oh, cool. You hungry?’. They raised their hands in an ‘up’ gesture. ‘you want up? Cool.’ and I lifted them up. They pointed to the fridge. I opened it. They grabbed a juice box out of the top shelf, and pushed the door closed again. ‘oh sweet, grape is the best. You are an individual of refined taste.’ I put them down and they went back to their room to play Legos.

“But they didn’t say please or thank you!” “But you should be teaching them communication skills!” “But!” Lalalalala.

1. The entire interaction was entirely considerate and polite. I was never made uncomfortable. I was made aware of the problem so that I could help them solve it. There was no mess, no tears, no bruises, no shouting.

2. Did my brain collapse into a thousand million fragments of shattered diamond dust out of sheer incomprehension? No? Then their communication skills were fine. Goal realized, solution found, objective complete. They found the most simple and painless way to communicate the situation and then did it.

Kids are not stupid. AUTISTIC kids are not stupid.

I’m willing to bet real cash money that the real reason the last few nannies had quit had a million times more to do with their own ability to cope, not the kid’s.

To this day, that was the most relaxed and enjoyable job I’ve ever had.

And I know I don’t speak for everyone. All kids are different. All adults are different. But in my time and experience, pretty much 95% of all my difficulties with children come from ME not being understanding enough. Every single “problem child” I’ve worked with turned out to be a pretty cool person once I started figuring out how to put my ego aside and let them set the pace.

Again, not speaking universally, here. I’m just saying. Sometimes social rules are bullshit, you know? People are people

Have you ever read an article about the study that found that teaching the parents to cope with autistic kids yields better results than other therapies? Because this is exactly what they were talking about.

this is a fantastic short term solution. but what happens when that child goes out into the real world as an adult and has no verbal communication skills and still doesn’t know how to properly transition between activities? by not teaching them coping mechanisms you put them at a distinct disadvantage compared to the rest of their peers and I don’t think that’s fair.

Okay, first off, I don’t want you to feel that I skimmed your argument and chose to disagree on principal. I feel that I have read and understood your point of view, and am actively putting thought into composing a thoughtful response that conveys my perspective on the subject.

You have asked me what happens when an autistic child “goes out into the real world as an adult and has no verbal communication skills”.

The thing is, there are many adults who live perfectly well without verbal communication.

There are adults with hearing impairments who can’t verbalize their intentions.

There are adults with anxiety disorders who can’t verbalize their intentions.

There do, in fact, exist autistic adults who can’t verbalize their intentions.

I would not personally agree that forcing a child or adult to talk out loud -when it very obviously causes them stress, or when they are unable to do so- is a coping mechanism.

I would argue that a coping mechanism is something that one does to alleviate their own stress, not the stress of others.

 Just as well there are, right now, at this very second, any number or real-life adult autistic people who actually do, at this minute, have a hard time transitioning between activities. I’m sure you could ask them what that’s like and you’d get a great number of autistic adults who do exist in the real world willing to tell you.

I’d like you to ask yourself, and I sincerely don’t mean to be condescending, a really quick question:

Is the problem Them, or is the problem You?

Furthermore, is there even a problem at all?

What I mean for you to ask, is: Is there a problem, or did you create one by being unwilling to compromise what makes you, personally, comfortable? 

Are they doing something wrong, or are you valuing tradition over someone’s health and wellbeing? 

Which is more valuable to you, in a society?

No child is ready to walk out and live life as an adult in the ‘real world’. That’s why they’re children. Raise them, whoever they are and whatever that means, into an adult who’s confident and kind. Let them speak to people who understand them, not just people who’ve studied them, because there is a difference, and children need more than anything to not feel alone. Everything else is secondary.

I was a picky eater as a kid. Like really, really picky; ARFID wasn’t a thing back then, but if it had been I might’ve been diagnosed with it.

My parents never forced me to eat anything. They encouraged me to try new foods, and when I got a bit older we had a system where I would get cheesy popcorn (one of my favorite snacks) in exchange for trying a bite of a new food, but they never forced me. They fed me foods that I would eat to make sure I got enough calories.

Eventually, I did broaden my diet. It is still pretty restrictive, due to anxiety and food sensitivities in addition to the sensory issues, but it’s a complete diet. All of the people who said I would end up surviving on pizza and goldfish crackers forever if they didn’t make me eat other stuff were wrong.

You know what did leave a lasting impact, though? The people who would say that. To me, or to my parents right in front of my face. Extended family, concerned lunch supervisors, and kids at school who would tease me for not having a “real” lunch, eating at the wrong speed, whatever it was. To this day, I get anxious eating in front of people outside of my immediate family and friends group, even if I’m pretty sure they’re not going to judge me.

Would my parents forcing me to eat the same things as everyone else have avoided this judgment from other people? Maybe. However, the impact of that almost definitely would have caused even more harm, and possibly even malnutrition (the logic of “they’ll eat it if it’s the only option” doesn’t work so well when eating said food is physically terrorizing for the kid).

We live in a world that is often deeply cruel to disabled people, and this should absolutely be a consideration when raising autistic kids, but the solution is not to “teach them to be normal.” Approaching kids with understanding and empathy, meeting them where they’re at, and treating them as human beings will ultimately create the healthiest foundation for helping them navigate the world.

froody:

People talk a lot about “today’s terrible eating habits” and “the proliferation of ‘junk food’ today” and it makes me so mad. You will hate to hear this but eating and humanity’s relationship with food has changed for the better. Evidence of chronic malnutrition and starvation is found on so many remains in practically every different culture throughout history. And it wasn’t always a lack of food, it was a lack of understanding of what the body needs. Marasmus was an extremely common cause of death for children, it is a condition caused by severe malnutrition that results in stunted growth and often death. It effected children from affluent families, families that could afford to feed their children and did, not just children who were physically starving from lack of food. Now if we see a baby or a child with failure to thrive, we can supply rich formulas with the vitamins and calories they need to grow. They couldn’t do that back then because they didn’t understand.

We enrich common foods with vitamins and minerals that people are commonly deficient in (iodized salt, fluoride water) and it saves lives. With the invention of mass produced products and safe canning, we can send foods to regions they wouldn’t otherwise be available. It’s fantastic and it’s marvelous. Believe it or not, ‘processed foods’ have been very good for humanity.

lh7:

wodneswynn:

wodneswynn:

“So-and-so identity I’m prejudiced against is gonna use up all the LGBT resources!” like this is fuckin Age of Empires II or some shit

Reblog if you can’t build any more castles or upgrade your longbowmen because some sneaky asexuals are camping on all the wood and stone

@nefariousasexualschemeoftheday

Some may call it “hogging the raw materials” but I call it “unlimited wood-fired pizza potential.”

poisonhemloc replied to your post “So the Nefarious Henchgirlfriend said she needed some Comet to clean…”
I’m very glad the Orbital Diversion Laser Cannon is working but my leftovers were in the kitchen.

Damn! All right, we have two options:

1. We can issue you some new food.

2. You can go to the crater and inhale deeply a lot. That should allow you to consume most of the component molecules of your leftovers. 

eeliabwrites:

ask-thedepressedkidatthetable​:

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Sylwia hummed. “In business.” The actual number was too difficult to actually get a hold on. Something about, ‘Who watches the watchers?’ came into effect. Sylwia rolled her eyes, laying a hand on her hip. “The original game. Before they changed it into Monopoly.” Carter had already said no, whether or not he wanted to admit it. “You should get used to losing then. Putting it off is not going to help you.” She paused, “It was called The Landlord’s Game. There were two sets of rules, one to make money, the other to give it back.”

Was it really? That seemed like a gross exaggeration and oversimplification at the same time. “Funny how neither of us are laughing. It’s time to swing it back around again.” Sylwia said, gesturing in a big circle in front of her .  .  . She never really watched sitcoms. Her parents weren’t the most sociable people, so sitting in an empty living room to watch families on the tv hadn’t appealed to her. “Does it really matter if you know or not? What could you do? I think opening accounts in your name would be more fun. Taking out a dozen lines of credit. Within a week I could rack up tens of thousands of dollars of debt, with high interest. All your responsibility.”

Oh! See! See?! Now that she’d turned him down, now that they were drinking from the same bottle, Carter decided to become a fucking stiff over sharing some wings she didn’t actually lick! Sylwia partially covered her face with a hand, holding back a laugh. “Yes. I’m aware, I’ve heard you talk.”

If she said she changed her mind now and had sex with Carter, she’d limit her suffering. Sex didn’t last that long, unlike Monopoly! She would have happily played Twister, or poker, but as Carter asked, all she could do was throw up a hand and say, “Sure. Set it up if you want to play.”

“Do I look like the type of guy who looses?” Before Sylwia had a chance to answer, he held up a finger. “Don’t answer that.” He took another swig, and considered goggling the rules of this new game. His pride, and drunkenness, prevented him from actually doing that. “Fine, we can play your silly little game, but you’d be surprised at how good I can be.” Oh, she’d be surprised alright, but it might be because he completely sucked at these types of things. 

He held up his hands in the sprite of a truce. “It was funnier in my head.” Carter wouldn’t admit it, but she would’ve never really considered the idea of getting into his bed. And, consent was very important to him. His brows knitted together. “For someone with the money I have,” in a trust fund. “Do you really think that’s a lot of money, Sylwia?” To some that was a life changing amount, but Carter didn’t see the big deal. 

A soft smile playfully tugged at his mouth. He thought she looked kinda cute trying to not laugh. Well, trying to not laugh at him. Taking her suggestion, Carter finished clearly his poker set and laid out the board game. Then, the money, and all the little pieces. 

He motioned for her to sit when he finished setting everything up. Carter took a large bite of his pizza. “Since this was your idea, why don’t you go first?” He slid the dice across the table along with some pieces. 


Oh, afraid of the answer, was he? If Carter already knew the answer, why bother asking? Maybe it was better .  .  . He actually knew the answers. Sylwia watched Carter set the board, her stomach tying in knots. It couldn’t be that hard, right? She saw dice and she knew they were supposed to buy property and ruin the other. Would it be too obvious if she looked at the rules? Sylwia didn’t know, since her big mouth had gotten her into yet another situation she didn’t know how to handle. Just had to figure it out as she went along.

“Is that what all men think?” Sylwia asked, looking through the properties, organizing them. To win, she’d probably need the dark blue ones, wouldn’t she? They were the most expensive. Would Carter land on them much? “Yeah, yeah. You can buy real life monopolies. That doesn’t mean you’ll be good at the game.” Sylwia said, giving Carter a pointed look.

.  .  . “To some, it is.” She didn’t know. In some ways, it was more than she could imagine having at one time, but at the same time, she regularly moved that kind of money through the data waves. “I think it depends on how you use it. To change lives, it can be invaluable.” She’d come without a penny to her name. Sylwia’s first taste of having any real money was picking up change off the ground! It meant something else when it was something you held in your hands, and maybe she would have built a different life if it’d been real and in her hands. “When it’s just numbers,” She started, carefully shifting through the pieces, finally picking out the battleship. “When it’s just numbers, it doesn’t mean anything.”

A small smile played at her lips as she sat down. Despite her nervousness, she couldn’t help but think that this was the stupidest thing they could have been doing with their time. “And here I thought you wanted to be a gentleman.” She said, taking the dice. Well .  .  . it couldn’t be too hard, right? Sylwia cast her dice.

mutliversd:

Open to: m / f / nb

Plot: We’re both spies or assassins currently on the run from local enforcement after the job went wrong. Now, we’re both staking out in a shitty safehouse that doesn’t look like its been touched in a while.  @indiestarter

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     Katerina’s nose scrunched up as she picked up a dusty jar of some pickled food, and she dared to open the thing incase the smell drew any unwanted attention their way. “You’d think with all the money a secret organisation would have, they’d at least hire someone to keep the place liveable.” The young Russian called over her shoulder, setting the jar down and wiped her hand on her trousers. “Don’t suppose you’ve had much luck?”

      Absinthe snorted, wiping the dust off their fingers on their pants leg. “Why? In the worst case, most everyone else would be dead and we’d be so thankful as to not notice that most of this food is spoiled.” They sighed, discarding a bag of pretzels. It was better left unmentioned what had gotten into it. Welcome to the nuclear wasteland. Hypothetically of course. All they really had to do was wait a day or two for things to cool down. “No. I’m going to see if there’s beds .  .  . You can keep looking at the food.”

eeliabwrites:

ask-thedepressedkidatthetable​:

Where did the vodka come from? An old girlfriend? Or was it kept around as part of a set? Chocolates, wine, a roaring fireplace and something harder for bitches who wanted to party. Sylwia decided she didn’t care. All she could hope was that she didn’t drink Carter under the table too early in the night.

“Nothing physical. Perhaps a chance at morality then? If they broke free from their hollow, ridiculous lives, they wouldn’t be afraid.” There was so much more to morality, and she wasn’t really one to talk since morality had been a constant failing point in her life, but she wasn’t afraid .  .  . “Nothing’s ever been solved by rich people.” Sylwia snorted, scrolling through an inactive chat room, rereading old messages and looking away whenever a video came up.

Wow. Carter wasn’t kidding when he said he hated pineapple. “Smooth.” Sylwia said, stepping past Carter to get their plates. Didn’t he have any paper plates? Was- was she going insane? Was she looking in the wrong spot? “That’s debatable.” She said, placing the china in front of them because she was tired of looking. “Maybe I’m just waiting for a chance to swipe the wallet from your pocket.”

When most people came over, they spent the entire time sucking up to Carter. They probably planned on him offering to pay for everything, or they hoped to get him in bed. It wasn’t exactly a difficult task. Gender truly meant nothing to Carter when it came to attraction.  Except she wasn’t sucking up to him, she was nearly telling him how much he sucked. And, not in the good way. 

“You think rich people are afraid?” he asked, genuinely curious. “Maybe that’s why they hide in their fancy offices, hotels and pent houses. They don’t want to deal with real world shit.” Then again, he’d never really dealt with real world shit. He scoffed. “No? They just create problems that the rest of society has to deal with?” He’d heard the argument before. Or, rather read it on social media. 

Carter smirked. “I can be smooth when I want to be.” At least, he normally was. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he grabbed a plate and tossed some wings on it. His brow rose. “Well, that’s one way to get into my pants,” he said. “Swipe my wallet while my tipsy and charge the credit cards before I notice, huh? It’s not a great plan after you’ve announced it.” 


Yeah, no kidding. She didn’t want to deal with real world shit either, but that didn’t mean hiding in your room would change or fix things. “If they aren’t, they’re psychotic.” She said, wondering when the anger and acrid taste in her mouth would fade as she poured ranch over her slice and rolled it like a burrito. “No .  .  . They just propagate convenient problems. There’s a lot more choice and a lot less consequence.” No wonder so many people chased it as a dream.

“I’ll believe that if I see it!” That being a big if. Sylwia hummed. Carter was right, it wasn’t a great plan now that she’d announced it. “I think it’d be more fun to steal your identity. I’m sure you wouldn’t think twice over a missing license after a night of partying. Meanwhile I’m locking you out of your banks and taking your house.” It was ridiculously easy to take someone’s identity, making their life a living hell.

“Not that I’d do that to you of course. You’re far too charming.“ She said coldly. Sylwia wondered if Carter was joking, or if he was actually perceptive enough to think that she might have been telling the truth. She didn’t know. A lot of people didn’t want to see the truth when it was slapping them in the face .  .  . Speaking of slapping- No. No. She’d rather just grab more pizza, and smack Carter’s hand away from the wings. “Don’t be greedy.”

moveslikekeithrichards:

moveslikekeithrichards:

moveslikekeithrichards:

doing my damnedest to free myself of the “just gotta get through this week” “only x more days til the weekend” mindset & learn to appreciate each day for whatever it is lest i be driven to madness

so what if tomorrows monday i have leftovers & maybe this week i will make soup. maybe ill see a cat. maybe each day will show me something worthwhile even if im tired & maybe i can enjoy it

if u are negative on this post im blocking u ! some of us are trying to get better

gentle-reminder:

hey, can you stop for a second, please?

inhale for me

now, exhale

take a moment to reorient yourself - have you had something to drink? have you had food? have you taken your medications, if you need to? maybe it is time to have a shower and change your clothes, too

this is your reminder to breathe and take care of yourself, please. you got this.

skyewillow:

Ostara

Also known as the spring equinox

Takes place around March 21st, but the exact date varies each year. It is the midway point between the winter and summer solstices

Herbs: mint, jasmine

Flowers: daffodil, lily, tulip, violet, lilac

Trees: willow, pine, olive, elder

Animals: chick, hare, robin, lamb, butterfly

Foods: eggs, chocolate, dairy, sunflower seeds, warm bread

Crystals: clear quartz, agate, rose quartz, aquamarine, amazonite

Colors: yellow, purple, green, pink, blue, white

Incense: rose, jasmine, strawberry, vanilla, cedarwood

Decorations: flowers, ribbon, baskets, pot of soil with a new seed

Deities: Persephone, Aphrodite, Eostre

Activities: Bake pastries/bread, plant seeds for a garden

the Blue Court Jade who fuses into Lemon Jade reminds me of the Globgogabgalab. 

I’ve seen it, and I hope to unsee it

What’s a food you didn’t like as a kid but love now? 

That was the longest time i had without munchies

Set my last good fancy dry beans to soak Sunday night and Monday I was too sick to cook so they went bad and I’ve been depressed all week. I’m mourning my beans. Which I know is ridiculous but feelings don’t care about the facts.

Eating my last candy cane. No more peppermint candy until next December

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