Autism; Parking; Frozen Foods; "Breakfast"; "Playboy"

This weekend, I've been even more indolent than usual.

Yesterday, I was up at the ungodly hour of 9:30. I web surfed and then debated going back to bed. But I got up and headed for the outside world.

I planned to hit the sushi bar, so I knew I needed something to read, hence I grabbed the December 1, 2003, issue of "The New Yorker." Although I'd read most of it, there were a couple of articles I'd missed.

Flipping through the pages, I came across a piece called "The Autism Fight - A family with autistic children found a treatment that seemed to help. They didn't know what they'd have to go through to get it." It was a report about a couple with two autistic children and their efforts to find the best treatment.

For whatever reason, I keep encountering articles about this subject. And each time, I come away wondering how much we know about what makes us who we are.

As I winged my way through the aisles, I realized I had one of those carts that has a mind of its own. I'd try to go gayly forward, and it would veer to the left. This happened so many times, it began to bother my left wrist.

Somewhere in frozen foods, I thought I recognized someone. But I wasn't sure. My standard line in such cases is to say, "Do I know you?" Which I did, and the very nice person told me her name. By now, I'd noticed that she had on a white polo shirt with a gaggle of rainbow-colored flamingos on the right front. I commented on it, and she said it was the new "secret" symbol. I should have asked where she got it, because it was a kewl shirt. Maybe I can find it on the web.

By the time, I finished shopping, I had a sinus headache. After unloading the car once I was home, I took three Wal-Profen and went to bed.

When I work, I decided I'd try to fixed the lock on my back door. I have to be in thr right frame of mind to do some household chores. If not, I'll get in the middle of something and realize I don't know what I'm doing and panic. Several times, I've tired to repair the lock, only to give up. But this time I was lucky, and it only took about 15 minutes to get it right.

Onward to Barnes & Noble I went, to use my Christmas gift card. It didn't take me long to pick out the next two books, "The Subtle Knife" and "The Amber Spyglass," in Philip Pullman's "The Darl Materials" series.

And I grabbed the 50th anniversary issue of "Playboy." One night last week when I couldn't sleep, I'd watch a tv special about the anniversary. I'm one of those rare people, I guess, who reads it for the articles.

The issue skims across the highlights of the 50 years of publishing. And there is a kewl fold out that has thumbnail photos of all the covers.

One of the snippets of info I picked up was that the highest price paid for an issue was around $40,000 for the first issue signed by baseball great Joe DiMaggio. If you're not familiar with the first issue, it had Marilyn Monroe, at the time Joe's wife, as the centerfold.

PAX!