If you order things online, it can save time, money, aggravation…it even saves GAS, because you don’t have to drive somewhere to get what you need.

BUT.

In caps. Italics…bold print…if it FAILS…you could be looking at a season in online HELL.

It’s been my experience that returns, credits, etc can be freaking awful.

If something doesn’t work, they send you the manufacturer…who usually has customer service from Sri Lanka. And despite their limited ability to communicate with you, they are all Junior Lawyers, searching for a reason to negate the warranty. In the mean time, you have paid out money, have NO product, and if you are REALLY lucky, can get your refund in 2-3 weeks. (ABSURD…since they can do it electronically. The rule of thumb is a second to draw from your account, but weeks to refund.)

Hey…I like a joke as much as the next guy…but NOT where my shekels are concerned.

Now in a perfect world, there would be no screw ups…no mistakes. (And in a perfect world, Hugh Jackman would be doing my yard work, Colin Firth could be my husband(could listen to him ALL day and night) and Jeffrey Dean Morgan would be my love slave, happy to fetch me tidbits, and rub my feet. but I digress. In an efficient world, I am even willing to give them a whole TEN minutes to replace the money they removed in the blink of an eye. But weeks? No. But I have learned not to expect perfect. And I have also learned to be more impressed by how you are treated when something goes wrong—which can tell you a LOT about the company.

So Desi bought a pair of sneaks in the Fall. She is HARD to buy footwear for. One, she has…well…HORRIBLE taste in shoes (Gay Israeli women who are dock workers would reject her usual choices as “too butch”.) Second, she has LARGE wide feet. Third…she can’t stand anything too tight, too binding, and she hates constantly tying her laces. So when she found a PERFECT pair of shoes, I had to see if they STILL existed. Since she found the first ones at Payless, I logged in, and checked it out.

Oh. MY. GOD.

They had them…on sale. In her size. Half the price.

So being the wise mom I am, I ordered TWO pair. I noticed they had a free shipping option…if you had them shipped to a store near you. It so happens the Payless is halfway between Ipswich and Salem. BOOOYAH! So I order it, arrange all the particulars…and wait. And wait. And…you get the picture?

So I am supposed to see Desi today, and she asked about her sneakers. (The original pair is now in sad repair…since she wore them almost every day for MONTHS.) I look up the order…no alerts. So I called customer service, wondering how I will deal with Sri Lankan…and I get…AMERICANS. That threw me for a loop…but hot damn! So I explain the problem. They suggest that I might call the local store first…which to be fair, was a thought. I do so. The young lady there was bright, and polite. She was a sweetheart…took the order number, tried to find it…then came back on to explain that it was turning up oddly on the computer.

Oh SHIT, thinks I.

She asked if she could try to get the company, and call me back. (By now, I am expecting ye-olde-run-around, and have already begun to mourn the lost sneakers.) I agree. She hangs up. And to ease my boredom, I CALLED the company myself. I got through to another nice person…who tried to fix thing from her end, and also offered to call me back. Apparently the sneaks had been shipped…somewhere ELSE. Not even close to here. The word Michigan was mentioned. Michigan? I looked the order up again…no…I did say Massachusetts. But hey…they both start with a capital “M”. And they have vowels. An honest mistake. Sort of.

Well, she WASN’T kidding. She called me back, and said they would be willing to route the shoes BACK here…to my home addy, no extra charge. Sounds like a plan. I was getting ready to call the local store, when the phone rang again. It was my local Payless. The girl felt so badly, she checked their stock…and Rock Me Sexy Jesus…they had TWO pairs of them in the color and size Desi needed. Should she put them aside? GOD yes! I hang up…the phone rings again. It’s online customer service. They spoke to the store (already) and arranged for an account credit…so I would have to pay for the sneaks again.

I was polite. but I went slightly nuts. Money is tight around here. I didn’t have 30 bucks to loan them for three weeks. I said that…she asked me for a moment to consult her supervisor, then came back and said they had worked it out. I could pick the sneaks up today…at the store they were supposed to be at…no additional charge. Now you might think this all convoluted…but I found it a SUPERIOR CUSTOMER SERVICE EXPERIENCE. Let me explain. This was a comedy of errors, no doubting that. But when I reached out, I found not one but TWO different employees, interested in helping me fix the problem. NO brush off. No, “I’m so sorry you got screwed, have a nice day!” And they worked in tandem, until it was fixed.

So thank you Payless. You’ve earned my shekels…and my praise. i WILL be using you again!

I’ve been working with Special Ed kids and their families for nearly a decade. It never ceases to amaze me when I learn something from THEM…when the coin drops, when you hear the near audible “click”, that means something fell into place. This morning I was thinking about my new client. I know some Autistic kids have rituals—ways they MUST do things to get them done. Most have no choice…it’s just how it works for them, and I get that.

But this morning it occurred to me that I have done one HELL of a lot to change my life…but I still have my own “rituals”. Most are based in either fear, or assumptions, but both limit me. So thank you to my new charge…who made me understand that while she may not have a choice in how she goes about something, I DO.

It’s not easy…but it is simple.
Upwards, and onwards…again I am faking brave with the best of them!

Otherwise known as “Things I Hate”:

1. People who lack empathy. “Oh you have weight issues? I eat anything I want…and am a size 2.”

(That’s called genetics, sweetcakes…it’s not virtue on your part.) Or, “Oh your child has issues with math, reading etc? I NEVER had that because I home schooled, and am such a great Christian..” (Bullshit. You lucked. But do rub it in to someone else who didn’t. I’m sure Jesus will love you for it.)

2. Trolls. You can almost smell them from their posts. They just love attention, so they post things to provoke a response—period.

3. People who use opinions in debate. I don’t care what your heart, your gut, or the lint in your bellybutton tells you. If it’s not factual, it’s opinion, and unsupported. Get the hell out of here. The GROWN UPS are talking.

4. Statements of ignorance, occasionally framed as questions. “Why don’t people just get JOBS? Or go to college? Or take CARE of themselves?” Answer…because jobs are scarce in a lot of places these days, and college and “taking care” takes MONEY, you spoiled brat. When people have to choose between rent and dental care, rent is going to win.

5. Obsessive Consumption/fixation. Shoes for instance. Who the hell CARES? Anyone who would spend a month of rent on a pair of shoes is out of their fucking minds…period. Anyone who would hock their future for a “sweet ride”, ditto. If you are Imelda Marcos in your dreams, dandy…but spare me the latest pics of your footwear…feet are not my thing.

6.Statements of “concern” that are really just an excuse to bitch or whine. “Well ,People who smoke raise insurance costs for the rest of us.” (or insert other vice).

Breathing raises insurance costs. Insurance companies get 25 percent on their money, minimum, year in and out…so it’s a good bet that THEY make it more expensive for the rest of us. When someone is talking about “them”, it’s usually just a way to proclaim your OWN virtue…(I.e. I don’t do that…so I am BETTER.)

7. People who insist on simple answers to COMPLEX questions. Cut me a break. If the answer was simple, it would have been thought of. There’s a huge difference between letting the air out a trucks tires to free it from a bridge, and providing decent education to millions of school kids. When a system is broken, you need to REPLACE it…not slap a band aid on it…but we miss that point over and over.

8. People who insist that other people are “bad drivers” because they don’t drive like they do…usually aggressive as all hell,no respect for lanes, no signals—and FAST. I have been permanently injured TWICE…by “bad drivers”. The most those asshats had to put up with was an increase in their insurance rates. Cry me a RIVER…I had spinal surgery TWICE. I lost my mobility for over a decade…and was deprived of a lot of “good years” that I ended up fighting the insurance industry getting treatment—instead of enjoying it with my family. I don’t mind GOOD drivers who go fast…but the bobbers and weavers drive me nuts.

9. Those who demand religious tolerance of THEIR beliefs…but mock, denigrate and ignore the religious freedom OTHERS are allowed to enjoy. If you believe, lovely. That’s your right. But unless I specifically ASK for your tracts, speeches, or information, back the HELL off. No one was ever “tricked” into loving Jesus.

10. If you have a food fixation, pretty please…don’t share? I wish I had a dime for every time someone tried to explain how WONDERFUL soy was…how green…how cruelty free…and how positively USELESS to someone like me…who can’t digest it? I can’t eat artificial sweeteners either…so don’t suggest Splenda or NutraSweet. I am allergic to Tequila…so agave nectar would be on my “HELL NO” list. (Agave being one of the main ingredients in it.) Let’s make a deal. I will assume you are a GROWN UP, and know what you can safely eat, and you’ll do the same for me…K?

A while back, I blogged about the current fashion for Brazilians…those godawful hair removal techniques that leave grown women looking like pre-teen girls. I thought it was gross on a lot of levels…and there were opinions flying about it, most based on preferences, fashion, and trends.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/03/19/brazilian-waxing-increase-sti-risk_n_2907546.html

This showed up today.

Yes, the sample size is tiny…but guess what?

It used to be required (not optional) for women in labor to be shaved for delivery. Then they noticed that women developed STI’s, yeast infections, and a host of other less desirable nastiness after…and it stopped. They simply wash and swab with betadine now—and glory be…infections after birth went WAY down.

Now…can I have a show of hands for those who think bacteria differentiate between cosmetic shaving and medical?

http://www.womenshealthmag.com/health/bikini-waxing-dangers

I just don’t think it’s worth it…but hey…what do I know?

My daughter requested her academic records and files to use at her college. She got a chance to read what her teachers had written about her…particularly in grade school. Back then, I knew they were clueless…but seriously…I had NO idea how far removed they were from reality. Their professional “assessment” of my daughter, her work, and her potential is downright scary. It made her laugh a few times…but mostly, she was pretty pissed at how they wrote her off. She was ten at the time.

Desi is a strong student in math, science, history and literature. She’s a gifted writer, and is doing fantastic in college…now in her senior year. Next Spring she will be taking her practicum, and her school is pretty demanding.

So when she read that thought she had trouble writing? Or that she was awful with math, or complex concepts?

I don’t blame her. I knew they were limiting her even then…just as I knew they simply COULDN’T BE trusted with her education. Desi had stopped being a child—or even a student to the district teachers. Instead, she was a “problem”. Think for a moment how humans work. Some people will Rube Goldberg stuff to death, rather than deal with the issues. They will mash things together with tape, paper clips, and chewing gum…then curse when the “quick fixes” don’t work. Some people will actually consider WHAT is going wrong, and try to make an effort at repair. And some rare souls will try to figure out WHY something is wonky—so it will work correctly in the future.

The district didn’t have such far sighted individuals.

I recall one particularly nightmarish shrew. She had a preference for children who had been in day care before school…finding them “better behaved and more mature”. I found her stated preference offensive. Desi didn’t go to day care…and she was one of the best behaved and politest children you’d hope to meet. This same bitch from hell set my daughter back nearly two years in math—by insisting that Desi NOT do math in her head. Desi had issues with handwriting—so writing it down took a huge amount of time. But she could do the calculations in her head instantly. Madame BITCH told her she was not allowed to…and it was two years before another teacher was able to figure out why Desi was math phobic…and was in fact GIFTED at math.

My daughter survived some godawful treatment…some of it at the hands of some godawful teachers.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise—but we were also pretty upset by the “personal observations” the so called educators made on her school records.

Thank god Desi proved resilient.

And thank god she decided that she will teach herself…so maybe some kids will get the chance they would have missed with someone else.

Woman, you have had enough
of the tears,
have heard too much
of things no mother
can bear to hear—
and I cannot imagine
how you wear your skin
with so much inside you.

I can offer crumbs of comfort,
soft words do not ease
the burn, the tear, the hurt—
but I am counting Caleb,
and giving him one thing
mine to give.

I will ask for words,
and prayers,
I will speak his name
to people I meet,
I will give him memory
in the moment they hear.

I will count Caleb all my life—
because always Caleb counted,
for you.

(God bless you, lady…)

Seven years ago, one of my poetry friends lost her son to cancer. I can’t imagine the hurt of that, but she told me today she wanted to have a copy of this done in calligraphy.

And for those who may read this, a request?

Bright Blessings…

Several years back, I lost one of my best friends to colon cancer.

I think about Craig.

I mourn him, and wish he were around to talk to…or even just hug.

I miss his wisdom, and smart ass ways. And I don’t think anyone will ever be able to fill the hole he left in my heart. But when he was dying, we talked…a lot. We discussed all sort of things—no holding back. The result was that when he died, we didn’t have any “big issues”, or unspoken things. I can grieve for him, without grieving the unfinished business between us. I know everyone suffers loss…friends, family, lovers…but if you have the time, I suggest you use it wisely.

Remember that they are processing too. They are scared too. They have questions, and things they NEED to say. If you just cry at them, they won’t do it. It feels too much like they are hurting you…and they don’t want to. It’s not for the weak…the task of being a person of respite. Someone who can bear to hear what someone dying might need to express. But I believe everyone needs such a friend. And i don’t think shrinks, therapists, or support groups will do the trick. It has to be someone they know and love enough to trust.  Just saying it to strangers is just a partial fix.

So if someone you know is seriously ill…think about being THAT person for them.

You can say “I love you” 10,000 times…but too often all it means is “please don’t die”…a promise they can’t keep. So…try and figure out what you BOTH need to say…and get said. It will be a help to them…and you later.

If love is supposed to be about putting someone else’s needs above your own, there is no kinder, or better gift.

And yes…it will hurt when they die. You will be left alone with the grief. But the fact is, you have the time that they do not. If you want to be able to think of them someday without tears…if you want them to be someone you can love for the rest of your life, without hurt, TALK to them…and let them talk to you. I know it seems like there are never enough words…but saying too little, and regretting it is ALWAYS worse.

I lost my dad when i was 17. A sudden stroke put him in a coma, and a week later, he died. I never got to say a word to him again…and that has been one of the great pains of my life. I often wished I had had the time…to say what I felt. Instead he was gone in days…and it was years before I could remember him without tears. It was almost a decade before I could remember his smile…or the sound of his laughter.

The thing is…when you love someone, you are ALWAYS at risk for grief. You can deal with the reality, or spend precious minutes mourning…before you must.

Me? I’ll take the time I am given…if I have half a chance.

Namaste.

I am not usually surprised by much these days. Call it the side benefit of living a complicated life. Over the years, my taste in movies has changed, and I have had this love/hate relationship with Quentin Tarantino that dates back to Pulp Fiction. Gratuitous violence is not my thing…and in the earlier films, it was like butter on popcorn for him. Really gross, dripping red butter. But like the quirky guy you meet by off chance, and sort of like…QT grows on you. By the time he got to Kill Bill, I could no longer dismiss or ignore him. And QT grew up in a fascinating way. I loved his unsubtle mockery of the Hollywood mainstream…and the violence was still there…but he made Deathproof, and Planet Terror and became a guilty pleasure for me. And why the hell NOT? Curse you, Quentin Tarantino…i do not WANT to love you…but I do.

I give him all kinds of credit for being an innovative thinker…and were I young actress today, I would be baking that man cookies, hoping he would put me in one of his movies. Like Joss Whedon, he shows amazing respect for women, allowing them to be much more than the cute cut outs we’ve all come to expect. If you run through his catalog, you’re not going to find much sex…sexy outfits perhaps…but they usually stay on. The women overcome obstacles, and kick ass. No Betty Sues need apply. Hard not to sort of love that, when you are raising a young woman to be self reliant.

I shamelessly ADORED Inglorious Basterds…but were supposed to. it was world class seduction. Tarantino looked around, and asked “Who’s ass can I kick, and be praised for it?” He always went after bad guys…but Nazis? The none group you can target  for destruction, and not raise a hue and cry. They’re BAD GUYS DELUXE. Plus, we kicked their asses. Our fathers and grandfathers told us war stories, and the Nazis were SUPPOSED to lose. Bonus points for making the band of brothers who took them out Jewish…wow. I liked the movie so much, I barely noticed the violence. Score Big, QT.

So I vowed in my heart that Inglorious Basterds would be my beloved QT film..and then he came out with Django Unchained. I had not seen the movie the night of the Oscars…but I rooted for QT, nonetheless. I was pissed about some of the stink that rose with it’s release. When Spike Lee does a film, it’s revelation. When someone else does, it’s exploitation? BITE ME. I hated that the film was snubbed, and noticed that it made more money than most of it’s competitors. (Yeah, I know…that’s not SUPPOSED to matter. But cut me a small break.) And sight unseen, I knew part of the snub was because they LOVE to do that to QT. Ever since the Usual Suspects, they have delighted in screwing with him, quite possibly because he doesn’t CARE. Film making is what he is about…film making is what he does. I saw Hurt Locker, and fell the hell asleep. The only reason that film scored was so they could snub Cameron, while looking heroic. It should have been named “Even Chick Directors Can Blow Stuff UP.” Pass. (I also had friends who served in Iraq, who said it was bullshit.)

How can a film generate a “Best Performance By a Supporting Actor” unless it utterly rocks? Even truly magnificent actors can’t salvage a turkey. Nope…it’s all connected.

Anyway…I went to see Django last night with Desiree. (With frozen yogurt before…also her treat.)

Holy crap.

OMG..he so deserved that OSCAR. Now mind you…it is a love story. Yes, you read that right. But the hand of the master was all over this one. Yup…violence. Of course, I’m not sure how you do a movie about slavery in the pre-civil war deep South, and not have violence as a feature. But it’s also a love story, about impossible odds…improbable people who refuse to say “die”…even when death is looking them in the eye…Tarantino style. It has humor here and there…but it’s SO worth a watch.

Congrats QT…you deserved that little gold guy…and if you ever come around Boston, drop me a line…I’ll make you dinner.