It’s tough to watch
And I wonder
The USA Education
is a bust today.
But, can everyone
say “I did my best”?
We know about
the original policies,
And we see the one
room school houses
The latest policies
and real academics
have no place
and have since eased,
We teach to
number 2 pencils✏️
and a bunch of
Teachers and staff
And yet, parents
want/ need someone to blame.
All of this is tiresome
and gets under my skin,
My mind can only see
the Federally banned novel📚
by Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451 (‘s)
It’s not the guns,🔫
or violent games,🕹
It’s the kids📰
always pushing the limits
and the relentless
for their rights
Therefore, empty threats,
and the fears
of what a child may claim
to law enforcement
and be separated
for years and years.
We all need to stand up,
learn the word “No“,
have powerful support⚙️
and scream “Enough!”
The USA Dept. of Education
needs a major
Artificial Intelligence (A.I.),
However, staying out of touch,
ignoring the confrontation,
being politically correct,
loses the purpose
of the brick & mortar,
Community, safe place.
All of this
Really puts today’s students
into a decision:
real life vs. hell?
I am aghast
at the thought
of arming school staff,
We have classes of 40+ students now.
All hyped up on sugar
and shots of caf (feine)…
I was brought up
in a different time.
Now it’s too easy to get lost
& feel contempt,
toward those who take
the class down.
This is NOT
what I went to college for.
So this retired
Kindergarten, Grades 7-12 Teacher
With the U.S. Dept. of Education
to stop putting the future
in our past,
It doesn’t belong there.
This and those
that one kid
who got lost
and allowed the hate
Won’t accept any blame.
Because it’s tough out there.
The attention and fame,
Are all sudden,
Fifteen minutes of fame
The media’s view above
cannot be beat.
The echoes of Sirens will
sound up and down
⚡️👩🏼💻👨🏻💻 🌎🧝🏼♀️🧝🏽♂️⚡️🤼♂️🗽 🏰⚔️⚖️
“… Does anyone here feel like their thyroid disease might be connected to dysfunction of their throat chakra? Reason I ask….like many people, I have suffered abuse in my life, and wonder if the inability to speak about the abuse is one of the reasons why this autoimmune disease has manifested at my throat chakra/thyroid…”
Given my current situation, I decided to try to find a Physician who is informed, specialized in, and was challenge worthy of curing what ails me. I have been filling out forms galore! I went through one entire Health Park and one Internal Medicine Hospital.
Let’s see, I have traveled all over my state in the USA. The money for fuel, hotels, dinner, co-pays, prescriptions, job loss and overall mental stress is not what I am upset about. That’s just collateral damage. One’s Health is priceless. So I pushed from one end to the other of specialists, general, and …
Well, you name it, I was there. Husband in hand. Mother as a barracuda. Even a very close friend from work -all to be my “Rock”. I am always thankful to them. ❤️
My research is self-sustaining (when I don’t have brain fog, or a headache, or simply exhausted). It is also self-torture. I have gone through Social Media, Libraries and Journals.
I know a lot about Hypothyroidism. Throw some Auto Immune Disease in there too. Oops, don’t forget the Hashimoto’s Disease, Migraines, Hormonal Imbalances, Anxiety, Depression, Hopelessness, PTSD, Seizures, Food Intolerances, hair loss, Vertigo and Concussions due to falling. have had all of these symptoms/experiences in the past four years. This past year January 1, 2016 through today my “experiences” have become a million
times worse than when all of this started.
Kinda Cool Part<<<<<
ed that blood tests are not really necessary in my case, because they don’t test the cells which make up the body. The cells which make us human don’t get tested. Blood does. Thus getting a normal lab result is counter-intuitive to discovering the cause of my woes.
, I was declined by both attempts of becoming a patient of an Internal Medicine Hospital as well as the ENTIRE Health Park. Hmmmm. As Shakespeare would say, “Much Ado About Nothing”.
paign called “The Broken Brain” by Dr. Hyman. I watched the trailer, then I signed up for the free online Docu-series. There are eight episodes and over fifty doctors who attest to the information presented:
“With 1.1 BILLION lives compromised by brain issues EVERY day, I know this documentary series will provide vital new information, expert connections and most of all, hope.”
e wellness center in MA. They don’t accept insurance. They charge approximately $10,000.00 for their two days of service.
The similar wellness clinic in my state (as there are many centers across the country) also does not take insurance either.
o an article I read this evening, those involved were exasperated and out of money. You should read it. Alas, they have hope!
I like how the author states “When one doctor or specialist had tried everything in his or her repertoire, we’d move on to someone else.After enough traditional doctors couldn’t dial her health in, we eventually moved on to alternative doctors and treatments – chiropractic, acupuncture, herbal supplements, meditation, and on and on…”That’s (This is) the reality (body image, weight gain) for some women. With multiple issues and body systems affecting each other and playing off each other, it can be pretty challenging to get everything into balance.blockquote>We found that this condition involved so much more than just physiology. So many elements played into this diagnosis – it was about stress, food, lifestyle, belief systems, relationships and more.We have spent the last 20 years, and almost $300,000, diving deep into this dis-ease. <<<<<<<<<
ut my future, as well as my husband and family’s future. Watch the attached video shared from YouTube. It’s thought provoking. I may not have a cure or a new place to dig in and research, but I have hope (kinda, sorta, maybe; depends on the day).
I’ve always loved flowers.
As I have rolled myself into “adulthood”, I have discovered that I prefer flowers in their semi-natural beds. A lot of people, and I mean A LOT of people, in my town, are Master Gardeners. I figured that growing my own flowers would be a nice hobby.
Plus, I would have a reason to go outside and get my Vitamin D too. Win, win!
I decided to try gardening. The key word here is try.
I now understand why gardeners threaten trespassers with their lives. The frustration and anger of one little, beautiful and helpless flower being stepped on is a legitimate defense – or at least it should be.
Dear Master Gardeners, I apologize for dancing on your Daffodils and ignoring the placement of your Irises.
Day One: First we (me, husband, mother). had to weed and Roto-till the spaces for the separate areas for the different beds. Within ten minutes we voted and all chipped in to hire the neighbor kid to do it. He did. Whew!
Day Two: Cover all exposed areas with black paper…. “hey neighbor!”
Day Three: My mother came over to help me roll out pre-seeded lavender bed rolls ordered from Groupon. I supposedly had 50,000 seeds so at least one seedling had to work.
Create amazing decor for the flower beds: ummm… skip.
Maintenance: Keep checking on the Groupon guaranteed Rolls. Luckily I could look into my garden from the air conditioned living room to check on it daily.
Water: We still have our timer from Christmas lights, that will work. Or so I thought… Ok not really… my garden was flooded by; oh I’d say five days into this. We now had quicksand.
I could see the neighbor kids’ foot prints in the sand puddling with water. I simply needed to turn off the timer… Done.
It was supposed to be a very rainy week anyway.
Weeds: The weeds grew and grew. They were taller than me and had nothing to do with or about the water or lavender.
I have NOT seen even one plant of my Groupon 💯 guarantee. My neighbor kid is going to be so mad when he comes back from Boot Camp!
All involved read the directions from Groupon carefully…
My mother and I re-read the directions… no lavender.
Well… it wasn’t until I realized that I physically couldn’t do much more than trap my neighbor kid, tell him how sick I am, get him to do the hard stuff, and then flood everything while he was in boot camp; that maybe I was a bit overzealous about my new hobby.
I couldn’t muster up the energy to be a gardener. I am just too sensitive to temperatures, brightness, bug bites, bending over and everything it takes to grow flowers purposefully.
I had one job. One ☝️. Discover and create a beautiful garden. I failed. My husband knew how upsetting it was for me. He took me to the cute little store in Bay City and I found a bunch of fake flowers (lavender of course) to purchase and enjoy at home.
Sometimes mental health is brushed aside when a physical task fails. I mean, who goes through the fuss and anticipation of a project wanting to be a failure? It’s a tough pill to swallow. His actions, my mom’s help and of course the neighbor kid were here working their butts off because my symptoms made me miserable while the heat only exasperated them. They did all of that in my best interest. So Thank You!
I guess my body health (brain included) needs some more time to hopefully heal. When it will let me know; remains to be seen.
Yep, that’s right. My email address is getting way too many messages. Anyone else in this boat?
I’m not putting this out there for bragging about or fishing for compliments. I’m putting this out there because I am not going to read them all. Any coupons, weekly ads, going out of sale ads, or relisting of items that I was outbid on previously are going to my trash and junk.
—-UPDATE—- 112 Emails as of 1:43 pm —-
I prefer emails from family or friends. There, I said it. The biggest offenders in my inbox are WalMart and GFS. Hint*. There’s only two of us and we are not interested in 5 gallons of potato salad, nor products for infants. I know, I know, I am not the only person they send ads and emails too. But they can take me off of their lists, for like, ever-ish. (That’s a word… ever-ish. I add ish to a lot of words now. Given that American English is a living language I can make up all kinds of words -if I wanted to; alas I shall stick with ish words for the time being.)
Which brings me to my main objective in this rant… if brick and mortar stores and webstores are insisting on emailing me, I would at the very least want the information to relate to either me or my husband. I know that there are algorithms that exist for this very purpose. They’re imbedded in those fun, little, member cards.
Again, don’t get me wrong… if you are a real, human, family member or friend, I promise not to put your communications in Junk. It’s bad enough that I refuse to answer my phones anymore because of the crazy spamming going on.
It’s obvious to consumer’s that sellers are desperately trying to communicate with us all. Did they all invest in the Nigerian Prince with a great opportunity? (Haha).
Oh the list is endless at this point… Sadly so is my patience. So I shall leave you with these parting words of wisdom.
WORDS OF WISDOM BY ME:
How do you explain
Butterflies in your tummy?
Or how you just know
That it’s all going to be ok?
How do you accept an unexpected
loss which shatters your soul?
Why didn’t you know?
About ten years ago (+\- five years) and yet another fifteen years prior to that. This will make sense for you, (the readership in a few moments… hang in there.. I promise. Trust me.
I traveled to Arizona for a visit with my grandparents, sister and mother. It was time to find a full service, independent living, facility for my grandparents.
The three of us toured a few facilities each day until we found our ideal space for the distinguished Patriarch and Matriarch of my mothers’ side of the family. It took a lot of convincing to get them to see it, much less than the actual move from their condo to a facility we chose.
It was nice. They allowed my grandparents’ cats, furniture and even had it’s own kitchen. The forms were signed. Their condo was up for sale and I had to get back to Michigan.
Within a couple of months I got a call from my sister. She wanted to get a Tigger tattoo and wanted my opinion. I have a tattoo on my hip bone of Opus the Penguin. I got it when I was seventeen, so in my sister’s mind I must remember the experience…. eh… I didn’t. Seventeen and tattoos were common in my generation; remembering the details, not so much.
I did my best to explain it to her, but jeez that was fifteen years ago.
After many months of looking she decided to bring the multitudes of Tigger to a top three. In this process she had found a few other ideas that would be good on me and my mother.
She wanted all of us to get (at least one) matching tattoos. I laughed and questioned her rationale.
“It would be a bonding experience.”
Within the week I was getting pictures from my sister with a very noticeable Tigger tattoo on her calf. She even showed it to our grandmother for review. Apparently our grandmother approved and asked questions about it -the process, design, and pain. She and my sister often did Tigger themed things, like this cake, for instance.
The holidays had me back in AZ later that year. I laughed every time my sister brought up the “group tattoo idea”. However, by then, my mom had agreed to do it. My sister must have been quite convincing. They were going on and on about yin yang symbols, turtles, paw prints, etc. I was still holding firm on my “No.”
I had underestimated my sister because the day after Christmas she admitted something…
She had a plan.
I was still not in love with the idea or plan. Besides, why did it have to be handicap accessible? So I asked.
Wait for it….
My sister continued, “…Grandma wants to go too. So we will just swing by her new nursing home, check her out for the day, let her go first with her tatt, get ours, and then grab something to eat, sign her back in to the nursing home without drawing attention to ourselves and Ta Dah. No biggie!”
“We are NOT kidnapping Grandma, tattooing her in a handicap accessible (air quotes) tattoo parlor, having a late lunch and then sneaking her back in to her nursing home without anyone noticing ‘something different’ about Grandma.”
“Awwww c’mon. She really wants whatever we’re having.”
“Are you crazy?! No! Soooo beyond no! We could get in serious trouble for that. Oh My Lord. (*sigh) Did you tell mom?”
“She liked it.”
Of course she did.
This dialogue continued back and forth for quite some time -months.
My sister stayed on this kick for awhile and is over it now (I think). Our grandmother passed away within a few years -tattoo free. My mother is still tattoo free.
Part of me wonders, did my grandmother have a seventeen year old self who always wanted a tattoo, like me? What would she have chosen at seventeen?
I don’t doubt that she entertained the idea then, or at my sister’s plan sixty years later. I can only fathom what 1945 art was acceptable for her standards. She was a nurse back then. She had seen it all, and knew the human body quite well. She would know where we could keep it hidden and respectable.
This past Autumn, my sister, mother and I were together again and I brought up the group tattoo idea. We thought about it, tossed around some ideas and then got back to our independently busy lives; somehow still remaining connected.
Maybe the next time we get the chance I can get us all to agree on a tree. More specifically The Tree of Life. It would be a Family Tree of Life!
“The creation of a thousand forests is in one acorn.” (Ralph Waldo Emerson)
The title of this post references one of my favorite pieces of writing, The Desiderata. No one can confirm or deny the author and date of publication, but I don’t think that I would have it differently regardless of those details.
I have not heeded it’s simple words.
I am not gentle with myself. I am cruel, degrading and relentless in my mind to myself.
True story: I received a compliment from a retail worker. (She claims that I always wear the cutest tops.). I was in a gourmet cupcake shoppe. I smiled at her, thanked her, and then in the same tone of voice -calm, quiet, sweet, and said “I hate myself actually, mostly my body. I shop for tops all of the time. My arms are the worst. So I try to only get 3/4 length sleeves…
It took a few more moments of drivel before I noticed her again. I had gone inside myself and starting pointing to various areas of imperfection; kind of like a flight attendant pointing out emergency exits.
Back to reality. She was still there and I was honestly surprised that she hadn’t moved on to another customer. I didn’t say all of that to garner an unearned second compliment. Which is good because I think she was too surprised with my response, she didn’t know what to say. I smiled, lowered my head to acknowledge that days’ blouse.
I apologized for the commentary and reached for my cupcake. Which, by the way, I had lost interest in. It was only going to make things worse.
(Why is this blue?)
See what I mean about failing to be gentle with myself? I’m pretty sure that I had offended her and quickly added that to my self degradation list. (Loser, quit offending nice people).
I don’t have some awful sin to atone. I just said what I was thinking and am always thinking. I have to be more careful in the future with this type of situation. I would rather fix my response than use that energy on accepting myself. Oh the irony.
Does everyone else do this too? You know, hate themselves 24/7? Is there a brain cell that allows this? Is it a depression thing? How about female? Maybe a need for perfection sets me off.
Today I was trying to laminate a card with packaging tape so that I could hang it up somewhere… I wanted it to be in it’s original state for as long as possible. But the stupid tape wasn’t very cooperative. Here I am, trying to get control of the tape and it sticks to the card all weird. Bubbles, creases, imperfect lines which show overlapping. I could just kick myself. The oh-so precious card wasn’t perfect anymore. I had screwed that up too. Upon closer inspection I noticed that there is black dog hair stuck too. Check it out…
Curious about the front of the card? I mean, it mattered so much that I was trying to preserve it…
See? I told you I messed it up. Again with irony. (*sigh)
Creases and tears in the tape. It will never be perfect now. Which is okay -for a card, right?
The skies are blue with white clouds, the wind is in the tops of the trees, and the scent of freshly mowed grass floats through the air.
I can be found outside to absorb Vitamin D more often. I often go for drives in my 1999 Mazda Miata (top down, radio up.) singing my heart out. I can enjoy the scenery when I take my dogs on walks. I could go for bike rides with my husband. I could follow through with plans or have a summer job for extra money. But I’m not doing any of these things. I can hope that all of this will play out next summer or the summer after that. I will be ok, just not today.
I am spending this summer filling out forms. Forms? Yes, forms. Being in my condition, I have a lot to “prove” to people, I guess. I have forms for Student Loans, Social Security, Insurance Companies, Appointments to keep from each groups’ Independent Medical Reviews. My years worth of forms is not helping to remove my carbon footprint.
So if you get the chance to capture some Vitamin D, walk your dog, drive your convertible and go for bike/ horse rides, do it. Do it for everyone who can’t, right now. Enjoy the outside and stay “form-free”. Don’t pick up a writing utensil or hide behind a screen of any sort. Mind your manners. Eat full-fat ice cream … on a WAFFLE CONE!
Most of all…
Enjoy the Summer of 2017. 👒