So I spent the day with my daughter, checking out rooms and apartments for her.

Despite my calm demeanor, this was a MAJOR deal.

But some background first. Desi currently shares an on campus apartment. Since September, said apartment building has experienced a number of false alarms (fire), a flood over winter break, and one REAL fire…that made the evening news in Boston. Desi’s housing is one of the largest parts of her school bill each semester. When she began, we broke it down…65 dollars PER night. Yes, heat, AC, and power was included…but still. Pretty damned expensive. We got word last week that they were upping the tab. Now understand…Desi shares this apartment with five other girls. The new price? One thousand dollars A MONTH.

That is a WTF moment.

Now the apartments are closed during Winter and Spring break. But simple math tells you that the tab for 9 months is NINE THOUSAND dollars. It’s not a private school. So each year, the humble apartment nets 60K.  There are 77 apartments in her residence hall.  That’s $4,620,000 annually. Not counting summer use, or the OTHER buildings on campus. Her room is a single…and well…small is a word. (Tiny could also fit.) Due to a series of unfortunate events, Desi was not going to be able to have the same group of girls she’d hung with all year, and would have to start all over again, with a new batch. Being a Senior, she didn’t relish the idea. And being organized, she started looking around for other options.

Now unless you live in a high rent major city, 9K annually is quite a chunk of change. She wasn’t looking for an apartment…just a furnished room nearby.

She had two options. Both were FAR cheaper than her current digs…one was 750 a month, all inclusive…the other 625…same deal. Now mind you, that’s laundry on premises, power, heat, water, cable, and internet. She wanted kitchen privileges—not a nuker and a fridge. For the last year, she has been learning to cook. She manages a modest food budget, and is learning to do it all herself. We looked at two places. One was older…built in 1850. It was in ok (not great shape), and might have done in a pinch…but the landlady was…well…odd. While insisting she wanted the place filled by May 1, (which is two weeks) she still showed us the place that she continues to run an ad for. She also claimed to have “several interested parties”. Ummm…calling BULLSHIT. If she had any takers, the place would be filled…no need to still show it. Most people need more than two weeks to move…so she was full of it.

And…she wouldn’t answer one question. “How many people actually LIVE here?” That’s a basic question. It should not have required much thought, or calculation.  Desi and I had been counting. As near as we could tell, at least five people were living there, each with a private room…but also sharing a TINY kitchen. She kept changing the subject. This bodes ill. She also insisted on an “at will” lease. (Month to month). There was NO parking…and when we visited, all the tenants were out. Either none of them had cars—or all of them did. Desi would have made six. The town tickets cars without stickers, and the street was quaint, but skinny. If you visit the North Shore, you will notice something interesting. Most towns have blue lights on poles with signs on them indicating that they are “snow emergency lights.” That means a NASTY snow storm. When we get hit by one, in most smaller towns, you are NOT allowed to park on the street. (Logical…the plows have to come through.) But that raises the question…where the HELL are you supposed to park? Desi goes to school in a LARGE college town, with a tourist industry. That’s a few thousand cars that need shelter from the storm. But Miss AT WILL sort of shrugged that off. We had plenty of snow this past season, so it’s not a question you can take a vague answer on.

So much for the $625 apartment.

A small editorial, if I may.

Some people who rent rooms are out of their FUCKING MINDS. I know this from experience. I used Craig’s List to find my place…and the owners either demand ridiculous amounts or rent, (If you have 1100 a month, you can afford an apartment—not a “room”.) Or have some strange ideas about what the property is worth. Sometimes, they post pics that look like crime scenes…dirty, cluttered, and badly run down. They do weird shit like FORBID cooking. (They may allow you a small fridge and a microwave—but no cooking. One winner is a nudist who’s been looking for a tenant for the last 18 months. The rent’s cheap, but you have to be “comfortable” with his…ummm…shortcomings.

One ad I remember was very nice looking…but was accompanied by a VERY detailed list of HOW you were expected to treat everything…i am not kidding…two pages single spaced. I’m pretty sure unevenly hung towels were a handing offense. NO thanks.

I remember corresponding with one woman—who said defensively “Well, you’re going to be living in my house…I have to be sure you’re not crazy.” Fair enough. But if I am living in your house..how do I know that YOU are sane? The trust thing cuts both ways.

Some demand credit checks, background checks, references…and THOUSANDS of dollars in security. Again…we’re talking a ROOM…not a condo on Beacon Hill. I understand that they want to be cautious. But I have no information on THEM. How do I know they are not in foreclosure? About to lose their home? Or worse…last year, a man in Salem was renting homes he didn’t OWN. They nailed him, but his victims lost thousand of dollars, and got nothing for their money.  So this was the world I was trying to help my daughter navigate.

Desi is pretty easy going. She ignored the “420″ friendly ads. She doesn’t really care what people do…she’s not judging…but anyone stupid enough to put that in a public ad…well…they might not make the best kind of room mate.

Now if you’re following the math. you’ll note that 9K can cover a 12 month lease—with money left over. A much nicer deal than a thousand a month. And as a plus, there is no “kick out” quotient. (On campus housing CLOSES for breaks. If you don’t want to leave, that’s too bad…you still have to.)

Well boys and girls, the OTHER place was a find. Absolutely lovely…and the landlady wasn’t insane. That alone would have impressed me. Instead of a tiny shoebox, Desi was getting a room nearly three times as large—painted beautifully. There are hardwood floors, covered with soft space carpets, a king sized bed, instead of a twin. There is a large tv, flat screen, cable, internet—the kitchen…whimper…gorgeous. Laundry room in the basement—lots of bathrooms. The landlady was looking for a reasonable tenant, who would pay their rent, not mess up the house, and practice reasonable caution about safety.

We offered references—but she was more interested in Desi and I. Apparently, the fact that we are close impressed her. Her current tenant is leaving in the summer. When would she need a deposit and a lease…and what kind of lease? She said she would appreciate us letting her know by JULY.

Thank you, Universe.

I think Desi will be happy there…and her landlady has no issue with visits. We ohhed over her pics of her children, and admired the cat.

So…Desi has a new home.

I’m coming to grips with my “new” daughter…so grown up now, and mature. The world is baffling…but it’s not a bad place for her…if she’s careful. And she will be!

@The Sutra Dude…this one’s for you!

Yesterday, Sutra Dude did a blog on his introduction to Buddhism, and reading it, it rang a lot of bells…so I thought I would run with the topic.

Xanga is a microcosm of the macrocosm…to a certain extent. But it only reflects a more affluent world, where people have net access, power to run computers, and oh yes, the leisure time to actually express your thoughts, and ideas. In the US alone, that means only 60 percent of our population. Forty percent—very nearly HALF do not. They still have lives, and opinions…but they are more or less ignored by our Face-booking, Twittering, Blogging population. When you have a community, it becomes easy to assume others think as you do…and we also tend to group with those who share our ideas and core beliefs. I am private about my views on spiritual matters. I get offended when someone decides to proselytize, because it is not something I am comfortable being shared with, anymore than I would invite someone to tell me all about their sex lives…in streaming details. Hey, if you feel the need to share, fine…it’s just not something I want to be included in, unless I specifically, and overtly request it. (Which I don’t.)

But You become aware of people’s belief’s in subtle ways—even when they don’t get in your face.

Now lest you take the wrong meaning from the title of this, I am deeply impressed by the “blissed out”. (And be aware…I am not a Buddhist…my comments are based on observation…I do not claim to be an expert.) Sutra Dude spoke about how he attended a gathering—and how it impacted on him. It was not a bolt from the blue, Paul at Tarsus conversion moment…it was more subtle. It’s taken him years to acquire his inner peace, but it began with one instance.

The Blissed Out are not interested in converting anyone. They don’t have fortune cookie, t-shirt, or bumper sticker dogma to share, and they never claim to own the “one answer”, or the sole truth in the universe. When they find their center, they have the absolute gift of shutting out the world…and even tuning out their own thoughts to connect with…well…everything there is. Sounds confusing, I know. But I get it.

Consider your “normal day”. You are bombarded with messages, media, emotions, impressions, all kinds of stimulus, internal and external, from the second you open your eyes.  The only time most people are not thinking on some level, or reacting to all of this is when they are sleeping. But you can’t go through a normal day without…noise? Static? All that STUFF. One of the hardest things to do is to turn it all off. When we try, thoughts keep popping into our heads. YIKES. Now normally I advocate thought…even deep thought. I am a HUGE fan of thinking. But…sometimes, you need to clear the decks, and increasingly, it is difficult to do so.

The Blissed Out can. It’s not non-thought. It’s the ability (hard won) to actually step out, and away…not to escape, but to reach a place of better understanding…enlightenment, if you will. But there are no short cuts. There is no “10 Steps to Perfect Bliss”, or Being One for Dummies”. The Path is not the same for any two humans…and you can’t follow in anyone else’s footsteps. No one size fits all (or most). No map that actually points out the trail. It begins with Know Thyself. Two small words…but two such IMPOSSIBLE words. We grow up, try to improve, re-invent, re-package, and constantly are in the process of becoming someone new…a better us…which presumes that there is something WRONG with who we already are. Only we spend so much time trying to be someone else, that we have no real awareness of ourselves.

Buddha would laugh…kindly.

Being alone…without being lonely.

Being with someone else, not because you need someone to complete you—but because they are something or someone that already feel like they are part of you. Not gaping holes…connections.

The Blissed Out already have reached the place where the whole of everything is a gorgeous lattice—they see the connections, and recognize how great, and how tiny a thing each life is. They aren’t worried about “rewards” or punishments. Their behavior is not from fear of reprisal. They just flow…and it’s really stunning to watch the calm of them. They can embrace any human emotion…but they are choosy about which they will hold. Negative energy consumes too much of their lives, so they tend to step away from it. Some people wear their anger…their hurt, or their disappointments. They clutch the bad stuff to themselves like a teddy bear…afraid to let go.  

The blissed out have learned to sift out the hubris. They are aware of what each emotion, each stimulus, each thing we allow into ourselves costs. And they accept only what they wish to let in.

Sort of mind blowing, no? It’s all about awareness…choice, and the colossal act of “letting go”. Imagine NOT being the center of the universe for once…and discovering that in doing so, you are suddenly free…price beyond rubies!

So for the skeptical, Buddhists are not perfect…but they are MUCH less likely to add to your angst than someone else, who assumes they know what you need on a Cosmic level. So Sutra Dude…am I close?

EXCEPT where there is very little information.

I was doing some research last night on a topic, siblings and Aspergers. I’ve worked with a few, but I was curious to see if there was anything I was overlooking. So I tucked in with a copy of the Oasis System, and Tony Attwood, both highly regarded resources. And hit a brick wall. The Oasis book must have 800 pages…there were barely four references to siblings—each not even a paragraph. So I tried siblings and the handicapped, looking for something applicable. Same deal. A lot of online articles on that specific topic…but very little actual help. It’s like looking up something definitive on menopause, or diabetes. The only thing all three have in common is that they are highly individualized…and therefore have virtually no “tried and true” methods and techniques for coping.

C’est la vie…but it’s frustrating indeed to be surrounded with millions (literally) of references on anything you could wish…and very little about what you NEED to know…

For the last two decades, I have not enjoyed weddings.

For the last ten years, I found them downright painful. Some of it was because of my own situation, no doubt…but I finally figured out why the old ladies cry at weddings… and it was hard to look at them the same way again. (All weddings end in tears, one way or another. Either death will break the bond, or life will make it too darned hard to stay together…hence…tears.)  I talked to my husband last night. (I can’t call him my ex til the paperwork is filed and final. So…the uncomfortable word is “husband”.)

HE had a lot to say.

He said that he finally understands why I left.

That he really LIKES the person I am becoming…how much she reminds him of the woman he fell in love with. How he admires my independence…and how much he REALLY wants me back…which left me speechless. I AM better than I was. I am stronger, and I am starting to heal…but the only way I got to this point was to completely upend and my life…and leave it. That would suggest that the life I left wasn’t good for me…the word “toxic” occurs. I sleep at night now. (Before I left, I barely got 4 hours a night). I’ve lost weight. I am not constantly on edge, or in tears over small things. I don’t feel old, used up, or broken anymore. I’ve learned to step back from the things that hurt, and look at them dispassionately. And in the process, I learned stuff I never really understood.

1. You can love someone…but not live with them.

2. You really can’t make someone happy.

3. Some people have a capacity for Joy (note the capital?)others do not. They can coast on someone else’s for a while…but they can’t own yours…and they can’t find their own inside themselves.

4. If someone says “I don’t know why I let you go.” RUN. They are being honest, but they will make the same mistake again…because they really don’t know. It’s hard enough to be given up for a reason…but like they said in the movie Willow “I was your moon, your stars, your velvet night…and IT WENT AWAY?”

5. When you reach the point that you are just slow killing other, someone has to be the grown up…and leave.  (And don’t insult me with that quitter nonsense. I put 30 YEARS into my primary relationship. I tried. I made myself into shapes and forms I still can’t understand…but eventually understood I was working alone.) The reason marriage counseling fails is because it’s too damned HARD to change, and by the time most couples have serious issues, they are set in stone. They are hard wired to each others buttons…and so angry about their own needs that they can’t get back to a simpler place.

6. I love my husband. I probably always will. But I am not the solution to his problems. I’m not the answer to his pain. Telling me he can’t be happy without me was terrifying to hear…because he’d never really been happy with me. He liked my company for a while. But after a time, he started finding things to dislike. If I did a hundred things, he was angry about the 101′st thing…that I hadn’t done. If I did something well, he had “constructive criticism” about the way I could do it better next time. At some point, my life became an endless gauntlet…a race I  could not win. It was “Fight or flight”, and I was too tired for the battle.

While we were talking, he said “we” a lot…but by the end it was mostly “I”. His needs. His feelings. I’ve had six months of introspection since I fled NJ. I realize what I did wrong myself…and I know I “meant well”…but I had my own part of sinking this ship. I accept that, and own my flaws. But I didn’t miss the point that when I left, i got BETTER. I’m not afraid of trying anymore. The only thing that really scares me is the thought of returning to a life that was slowly choking the life out of me. My life is not “perfect” now…but there is much to be said for being able to sleep. There is a beauty in waking up, and not cringing…or worse, pretending to be asleep until you hear the door close…just so you won’t have to face anger, or disdain.

I did not stop being a “married woman” when I left in September.

I stopped being married, when the thought of staying made me cry harder, than the thought of a life alone.

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…