Posted in Celebrities, Just for fun

Was Ross and Rachel on a Break?

It’s been 25 years since, in today’s language, Ross and Rachel unfriended each other. In 1996 Friends roared into it’s third season. Season two left off with Ross supporting Rachel at Barry and Mindy’s wedding. It was such a sweet moment, which left us unprepared for what was coming. We were mourning the relationship death of Monica and Richard. Little did we know.

Season 3 finds Ross in the throes of unwarranted jealousy. Since Rachel refused to wear her I heart Ross T-shirt and ring a bell to work tensions rose. Granted Rachel probably could have made more time for Ross but nearly burning down her office put a damper on things. The argument that ensued led to Rachel’s infamous line. “Maybe we should take a break.” Ross mistakenly interrupts that as a break from the fight. Rachel delivers an equally infamous line of, “No. A break from us.”

Mark visits Rachel to cheer her up. Ross calls Rachel. When he hears Mark in the background it reminds he has copying needs -apparantly. After getting Zeroxed Ross runs down the trail of his misdeed in vain. Rachel knows.

Through gut wrenching scenes the end comes. When Rachel tells Ross to leave we got the line more painful and infamous than the others. Ross in disbelief and agony declares it can’t be the end. And Rachel says, “Then how come it is?” Ugh! Talk about a shot to the heart.

So. Where they on a break? Is it justifiable to sleep with someone else minutes after a break-up? Who’s right and who’s wrong? Leave your responses in the comments and lets put this thing to bed.

Posted in Autism Spectrum Disorder, funny, parenting, Special Needs Kids, The DJ Journey

Should “Hateful Ass” Be In The Bible?

This is my son Colton. He is on the autism spectrum and has an Olympic worthy ability to find humor in the oddest things. Once he latches on to something funny he will randomly laugh aloud each time it plays in his head. Which is often. For days. Weeks. Months. I’ve seen it go on for years.

This is my son DJ. He has mitochondrial disease and is nonverbal. That should not be confused with quiet. He is the loudest nonverbal kid on the planet. He points, jabbers, yells in a language only he understands and has zero problem expressing his emotions. He has a very short fuse. The difference between emotional outbursts due to his disability and those from pure anger or frustration, is like the difference between a cloud covered night and one lit with the Batman signal.

This is them with their brother Dalton, dressed as a very bad Elvis. Too much to unpack there. Forward focus.

DJ’s emotional development is in the slow powder keg burning teen years. He wants what he wants and he wants it last week. He finds us imbeciles for our inability to predict his moods far in advance.

Steve and I parent as a unit. If he’s handling a problem I stay out of it. But as a Oh-no-you-did-not parent, If I must get involved, it’s on like Donkey Kong! Such was the case today.

DJ found a replay of Saturday’s Kentucky – Louisville basketball game. I’m one of those die hard, arrogant, UK fans that makes other teams dread playing us at Rupp Arena and their fans hate us. Big Blue Nation, I bleed blue and all that.

DJ, however, takes it to a whole new level. In particularly bad games, he stands in the middle of the floor screaming like a wild banshee and flinging anything he can get his hands on. Which gives anyone trying to make entry into his room a crash course in what it must feel like to stroll through a minefield.

This year our basketball program sucks because of this man.

Who should really read that book he wrote.

Somewhere between then and now, he added an option. Losing. Embarrassingly. We haven’t had a 1-6 season since 1911! NINETEEN ELEVEN!!! For the math strugglers, that’s a friggin’ 109 years! For DJ it’s motive.

I didn’t tell him about the game but he found it on ESPN. The boy just lost it. First came the screams. Then the hand biting. Next thing I knew, sounds of tornadic activity emanated from his room.

I go tearing up the stairs to yell at him for yelling. Because that’s how you do it, right? You just out yell them? Never mind. Don’t answer that. Back to the story.

Colton, entered the scene. I tried explaining to DJ. He got angrier. I confirmed his little emotions but warned him justification of emotions is not justifications of actions. DJ calmed a bit but continued mouthing off. Which prompted me to tell him not to be a hateful ass. Which prompted Colton’s asperger brain to commence laughter.

DJ and I look at Colton questioningly. Between laughter Colton says, “I’ve heard mean ass but not hateful ass. That sounds like something that should be in the Bible. ‘I smite thee for thy hateful ass!” DJ enthusiastically repeated in rapid succession one of three words he commands. Yeah!

I looked at them both, concluded I should start day drinking and left them to it.

Posted in Books, Education, Reviews, Sensory Processing Disorder, Special Needs Kids, Special Needs Students

Colour Me British Review

I have the cure for lockdown low, pandemic pressure, Covid chaos or whatever other ails 2020 inflicted upon you.  Coloring.  Yep, you heard me.  Coloring.  Sharpen those colored pencils and color yourself happy.

Colour Me British not only provides all the benefits of coloring, but educates as well.  Kylie Emma Robertson’s beautiful original hand-drawn artwork fills Colour Me British.  From food to iconic landmarks you’ll find it all in Colour Me British.  It’s a great way to keep kids entertained and learning. Those with special needs or mental health issues receive double the benefits.

Coloring impacts the part of the brain responsible for emotions.  Coloring eases fear, calms anxiety, and releases tension.  It also improves focus, sleep, and hand eye coordination.

 

The book is a great therapeutic tool for speech and occupational therapists.  Patients practice expressive language and communication skills when they color the teapot and verbalize their idea of tea with the Queen.  Pages featuring food are useful in helping patients learning to chew.  They can color the foods before sampling them.

Occupational therapists can use the book to improve fine motor skills and visual tracking.  Pages filled with multiple images are perfect for teaching the valuable skill of learning and creating patterns.  To increase sensory perception color while on a therapy ball, platform swing, or in an upside down position. 

Whether you’re a therapist seeking a unique avenue to reach patients or a parent looking to stuff a stocking, Colour Me British is a great buy.  It’s the perfect gift for kids of all abilities and adults seeking to unwind in this crazy lockdown world.  You may not be able to have peace on earth, but coloring in Colour Me British can give you inner peace.

Use the link below to purchase your copy of Colour Me British and get started coloring yourself happy.

  

https://www.amazon.com/Colour-Me-British-colouring-book/dp/1532968183/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=Colour+me+british&qid=1608240136&s=books&sr=1-1

Posted in Books, Reviews

Battle of Brothers: William & Harry Review

Posted in Beauty For Ashes, Faith, In The News

We All Have Our 9/11: This Is Mine

I sat at the kitchen table discussing with my husband, Steve, our busy day. It was Tuesday, September 11, 2001. I asked Steve what time his meeting started. He said, nine. I turned to look at the clock behind me. It was 8:45. American Airlines flight 11 was thundering toward New York City. We were 60 seconds away from unimaginable turmoil and devastation.  

My son, DJ, was an infant. He started fussing. Intending to calm him with a video, I flipped the TV on. The image of the North Tower on fire filled the screen. First reports indicated a small commuter plane accidently crashed into the tower.  It made little sense, but how else could we explain it?  This is America.  Terror doesn’t come to our soil. Everything we thought we knew was wrong.  And what we could never imagine was bearing down on us.   

As a former EMT, my brain assessed the scene on TV, while I stood flipping through options of to save the most lives. I saw a plane on the right side of the TV screen.  I actually gave a sigh of relief.  A rescue.  They could get people off the roof.  Then it happened.

United Airlines Flight 175 plowed into the South Tower. An enormous fireball erupted.  That plane hit the building. That plane just flew into that building.  On purpose!  I couldn’t form any other thought. I don’t know how long I stood there. When the process of thought returned, I realized DJ stopped fussing the minute the TV came on.  As if his only reason for fussing was to alert me to the attack.

I left the room briefly.  When I returned, I saw a split TV screen, on one side the towers burned, on the other the Pentagon.  I gasped.  What is happening?  I felt God impress upon my heart to pray. Despondency cascaded over me.  God, I don’t even know what to pray for. I felt God’s   response. “Pray for my people I’m bringing out.” I dropped to my knees.  I intended to pray aloud.  I choked on words and just wept.

When Steve returned from his meeting, I went to our older sons’s school. Steve and I decided taking them out of school may scare them too much. The only target for terrorists in Kentucky is Fort Knox. We’re far from there.  But I wanted to be the one to explain the attack to them.  I wanted to reassure them.  Pray with them.

In the school office, the secretary called for the boys.  I did my best to explain things to them.  We prayed and when I raised my head, I realized prayer re-entered public school.  A small group of people gathered around us and bowed their heads, joining us in prayer.

Back at home, details of United Flight 93 came in.  Those passengers took back their liberty.  They voted on a plan to storm the cockpit.  Even in the face of certain death, they upheld democracy. Americans to the end.

The reaming hours of 9/11 unfolded with shock, horror, and heroism.  It was the worst day for America, but never was she more beautiful. Flags unfurled across the country. Our government sang “God Bless America” on the steps of Capitol. People flocked to churches, gave blood, and made plans to enlist in the military.  I’ve never been more proud to be American as I was on 9/11.  From the ashes we rose as one.  May God forever bless the U.S.A.  

Posted in Tuesday Tales

Funny Conversation With Asperger Kid.

Several years ago, my son Colton wanted to walk alone from his grandparents house to the annual Pioneer Festival. I was a bit nervous about it. I knew it hurt him to see his brothers have independence he dreamed about. I agreed. I called him to check on him and the following conversation took place.

Me: Have you found the alley to cut through?

Colton: No. But some people I’m walking with are going to show me.

Me: Colton, you’re not walking with people you don’t know are you?

Colton: Uhh. No.

Me: What are their names?

Colton: Excuse me, people I’m walking with. What are your names?

Me: OH MY GOSH! Colton, you’re walking with strangers!

Colton: No, I’m not. They said they know my grandparents.

Me: That’s like rule 1 in the child abductor’s handbook, tell the kid you know their grandparents.

Colton: Well, I’m not walking RIGHT beside them. There’s a little space.

Me: (After figuring out they did know his grandparents) Now, Colt. You’re not going to the festival and walk with people you don’t know are you?

Colton: Mom, I’m 20. I got this.

Me:(Thinking of all the things he couldn’t do & how much he wants this bit of independence) Okay. But call me to check in, in an hour? What time is it now?

Colton: Excuse me, people I’m walking with, what time is it?

Posted in The Joan Zone YT Channel, Writing Tips

Meghan Markle as Your MC

Writing tips from The Joan Zone You Tube channel
Posted in Tuesday Tales

How NOT to Make a Bird Cat Friendship

When I was a little girl, my sister Brenda took care of me in the summer while our parents worked.  We got in trouble – A LOT!  If we weren’t fighting each other; we were scheming together.  But I tended to drive her a little batty sometimes.  One such instant played out with our pets.

Brenda had a parrot named BB, and I had a cat named Tiger Wayne.  Yes, I picked that name myself.  Cause no one should be without a middle name, right?  That thought process tells you a lot about my shenanigans.

To say the cat wasn’t fond of the bird is a gross understatement.  You know the scene in the movie Madagascar when Alex the Lion looks at Marty the zebra with steaks in his eyes?  That was Tiger Wayne to BB.  Well, of course I knew how to fix it.  Don’t I always have the answer?  

I snatched up Tiger Wayne and put him in the bathroom.  Then I retrieved BB from his cage and had him join Tiger Wayne in the bathroom.  I admonished them to be friends, then locked the door, shut it and stepped into the hall.  Immediate chaos.

With partially clipped wings BB lacked the ability to fly to higher safety.  He could airborne for a second then crash to the ground.  He was squawking and banging into the walls as Tiger Wayne pursued him with screeching of his own.  Realizing I’m a stupid little kid complicit in pet homicide, I started screaming.  Brenda, who up to this point was enjoying her day lounging in the sun, came racing in.

“What’s wrong?!”  Her voice full of fear she scanned me.  Judging by my level of screaming, she was certain she’d find my arm cut off or something equally terrifying.

“Tiger Wayne is going to eat BB.”

That’s the precise moment the noise from the bathroom penetrated her fear of me being hurt.    She rattled the doorknob in panic.  “The door won’t open.”

“I locked it.”

If her bird’s life wasn’t in danger, I swear she would have throttled me right there.  Instead, she wrapped up all my stupidity into a single sentence dripping with disbelief.  “Why would you do that?”     

Just when she thought I couldn’t shock her more, I answered through quaking sobs and large gulps of air,.  “I wanted them to be friends.”

“You locked them in the bathroom to be friends?”

I nodded.  She practically growled.  A solution arriving in my sister’s brain spared my life. She tore off into the other room and returned with a hammer.  Before I asked her intent she began whaling away on the wooden door.  Once she made a hole, she reached through and unlocked the door.  Because BB was still intact Brenda allowed me to remain that way.  Not to mention, beating a hole in a door went a long way in relieving her fear and anger.  

With Tiger Wayne and BB safely separated, Brenda determined we were in big trouble with Mom.  So, what do we do?  Lie of course.  I wasn’t in full agreement.  However, I thought locking our pets in the bathroom together would make them friends.  So, maybe I’d go with Brenda on this one. 

Brenda told Mom I got locked in the bathroom and couldn’t get out.  Ronnie, a neighbor up the street, came down and knocked the hole in the door to save me.  It offended me Mom bought the story.  How dumb did she think I was?  Sure, locking a barely able to fly parrot in the bathroom with his greatest predator wasn’t my best idea, but good grief!  I could work a doorknob!   

Everything was fine until Mom thanked Ronnie for saving me from a door I mastered.  Ronnie was clueless.  Brenda, operating on same genius level as I, didn’t consider the possibility of Mom mentioning it to Ronnie.  Even though Ronnie lived only three houses away.  And she and Mom talked.  Every day.     

Mom picked our story apart.  Brenda and I may not have been the brightest crayons in the box, but we knew when Mom was baiting us.  We confessed. 

Mom believed in creative punishment.  She made us paint the side of the house.  And that’s where Mom’s crayon lost a bit of brightness.  A hot summer day, frustrated sisters, and house paint?  Mom was asking for it.  That’s a tale for another Tuesday.

Posted in funny, YouTube

Joan Zone YT Channel Up & Running

The Joan Zone YouTube is brand new.  Check it out for new informative and humorous video content. Take a peek at our latest video. The Naughty Wheel