Howdy Doody (Theme Song To It’s Howdy Doody Time) words and music by Edward George Kean, @1956 (Renewed 1984) Living Music Inc. All Rights Controlled and Administered by EMI Blackwood Music Inc.

Today was pretty good the sun came out at intervals. Seeing the sun helped boost my spirits.

Right now I’m agonizing over whether I should tear out a page from one of my many sketchbooks or to design a page especially for Artscape. The deadline for submissions is June 15th. So I know I’d better hop to it and reach an executive decision soon.

I’m also giving a lot of thought to opening up a cafepress store on the web. I have always wanted to sell prints of my work. Having an online store through them would definitely make it easier.

Cafepress has two store options you can either open a free store or a premium store. The folks on ebsq suggest that the smart thing to do would be to open a free store first then order a few of my own to judge the quality before ponying up money for a premium store. Quite a few of the artist on ebsq are knowledgeable on this issue because they have cafepress stores of their own. Next I suppose I’ll be anguishing over what to call my store. Then next I’ll be anguishing over how to handle my taxes. Is my art a business or a hobby? I know the answer to that but I ain’t saying.......

If I haven't said it already I have Asperger’s Syndrome. Thus, I’m more of a people observer than interacter. My circle of friends is extremely small and is usually limited to geeky males. I have one female friend but all she wants to talk about is her damned kid.

I’m positive that the people I went to school with thought I was cold and standoffish. The number one question that people have asked me throughout my life has been, “Gail, why are you so quiet?” I never quite knew how to answer them. I’d usually just shrug my shoulder and say murmur, “I don’t know. I just am.”

My quietness and lack of verbal communication was never deliberate. It’s just how I’m wired. I have autism for Christ sakes! We’re not known for being stunning conversationalist. Our motto I guess you could say would be something like, “Just the facts, ma am.” or “A little less talk. A little more action.”

Please don't cry for me because I have autism. The richest man on the planet,Bill Gates, has Asperger’s Syndrome and I doubt that anyone feels sorry for him. The form I have obviously is mild or I would not have been capable of graduating from high school and college or building four web sites and composing stuff to put into this here blog. So don’t cry for me Argentina. I view my autism more as a blessing than a curse. Besides, I’ve had it all my life and I haven't the foggiest idea what it’s like to be an NT.

The writing prompt for the day is to write about your last day of school experiences whether it be kindergarten, high school or college. Why are these all starting to sound like a school writing project? Hey, I should be going to therapy to forget that I ever went to school.

I’m doing this on the forgotten years...aka Middle School at Booker T. Washington Middle School.

The one that stands put in my mind about the last day of school at old Booker T. was the heat. I can remember the day as if it were happening now. I was late for school as usual. I rarely was on time school as a kid. I was usually 10-15 minutes late on average. That day, however, I was a full hour late. I didn't care it was the last day of school. I hated the last day of school it was pointless. Grades had already been determined and all you did was sit around and do busy work.

In the 80’s like other Baltimore City schools we did not have air conditioned classrooms. I did’nt want to go because I knew it would be a day spent in heat. I could have stayed home in air conditioned luxury but my mother was adament about my not missing any time from school. The only thing I can recall about the day was sitting on the floor in the dark as a fan blew hot air on me. It felt as though it was the longest, most pointless day of my life.