You Don't Have To Read This: 2025

 

                                                     Postcards 29 December 2025

        In August of 2024, I entered Hinkley high school with a new choir teacher---the third since I arrived in 2020---and said "Nope, I'm done." Partly because he was clearly incompetent. Partly because I was the department chair and was not invited to the interview. Partly because I had built a strong program that admin cared not a whit about, and I was done being disrespected.

        I had been applying and even interviewed, but my age or mohawk were preventing me from getting out. I decided instead that in May of 2025 I was going to simply retire. It was not what I necessarily wanted to do, and certainly not what I could afford to do. But after putting up four mainstage shows, a showcase, a collage and  two full cabarets with no admin support the previous year, I just couldn't. Remember, the year before (2023) I was called racist by an AP. Nope.

        A former Hink AP is the principal at Kennedy, and Hink's former Athletic director/AP was also at Kennedy. In September, I was morosely sitting in the Hinkely parking lot at 6.45 am when the later human texted me. 

        "Hey, do you have any interest in coming to Kennedy and doing what you did at Hinkley? Rebuild the theatre?"

        There were a few bumps, and I had to finish directing Steel Magnolias, but by 20 Dec 2024 I was at Kennedy digging out the storage closet to make it my office.

     I took at $10K a year pay cut because teaching is like being an indentured servant, and they punish you if you move districts. They do not honor your years. So as a 21 year veteran I was hired on the pay ladder at Year Ten. Total bullshit, but I wanted out and money no longer mattered. When I am In Charge Of Everything, that practice will be the first thing to go.

        I got two cabarets, a Peer to Peer show and a showcase up in the spring at Kennedy. Also my dad died on our first cabaret on 28 February 2025. 

        I got six kids to pledge Thespians---there's not been a troupe at Kennedy in 20 years. One was a senior, but hey, it's a start.

          How Long It's Been Since A Show Happened is under debate; some folks say eight years, other five. Either way, I got The Female Odd Couple up, with a set and everything, in November 2025. Two Peer to Peer shows and one small Christmas Cabaret Next up: Mamma Mia in March 2026. Oy Vey.

        2025 has been so horrible in so many ways it feels redundant to even mention. On the other hand, they want us to shut up and comply.

        The husky is underweight and the pug thing and muppet are fat. 

        Also the black cat is pretty chunky. I don't overfeed so much as they steal each other's food.

        Togo's chicken foot is healing. She had cancer on her toe and had to have it removed, so her three toed, furless back leg looks like a chicken foot.

        No traveling this year, or in our future, based on the above mentioned  "horrible". Sigh.

        My friends from Canada visited, which was truly awesome. Jim finished the spare room renovation so they could be comfortable. Then in November Harp broke up with Lillith, lost the apartment and moved back in. A friend and colleague of hers is crashing in the orange cat room.  Another friend was here for a few weeks as well while he got back on his feet. At some point when Harp moves out, we'll get to renovating the orange room.

        Harp finished her BA and has been hired as a PT teacher/ PT para at her building, which is a pay raise. Then in the fall she'll be a FT teacher---another pay raise. She lost 100 pounds, is sober and got off all her meds---which were poisoning her, which was great. She won't sue the psych, but would win if she did.

        G left Indigo and moved to Bee Suite which is a fully queer salon in the arts district on Santa Fe. They love it.

        Jim is still at Ready Care, seems fine. Doesn't hate it, doesn't love it. It's a job. He has a salary and insurance.

        On that note DPS is pulling Kaiser out from under 7.5 thousand of us employees and forcing us into United Healthcare. Because somebody's making a lot of money off of this, and nobody cares that there are not enough doctors taking new patients to accommodate such an onslought. But for me to go rogue and keep Kaiser on my own would cost me $800/month! So I hope to get all my health stuff and knee surgeries done, updated and set before I'm kicked off in June and no longer have healthcare that I am paying for. 'merica is GREAT AGAIN.

        Anyone else hearing scuttlebutt about Paris, Tokyo and other cities canceling their NYE celebrations? Heard there was a "gang" in LA plotting bombs, but only four people were arrested. And it's a gang? So great. Love the way information and news have been destroyed and shattered by deregulating social media and AI guardrails. The truth is difficult to ferret out and requires patience. Tho TBH substackers on Tik Tok are pretty great. I use BBC and Al Jazeera, but they are hardly "breaking" in the moment. Looks like Australia cancelled since it was scheduled on Bondi beach where the shooting was, Tokyo is worried about crowds and public drinking? That one is weird. Paris is worried about a stampede. Everything sounds weird and wrong. The four people caught in the desert with a bomb were caught, so why are cities canceling or scaling back?

        Well, today's the 29th. That wasn't much of a wrap up.

        Happy New Year, y'all. The regime is eating itself from the inside, we just have to be ready to move when it's time.

You Don't Have To Read This: Bullying

 

                You Don't Have To Read This: A Short Series of Personal Reflections

                                                        Bullying

    When I was in second (or third) grade, the following true story happened.

    I was playing at Jewell park. There is a little duck lake there with a small playground my siblings and I grew up playing on. One summer day, two older boys were at the pond. One blondeish and one with brown hair. They were chucking rocks at the ducks.

    Without hesitation, I marched my ugly self over there---one moment, let's get a picture. I looked almost exactly like Tatum O'Neal in Paper Moon: more freckles, worse hair cut, some where between her and Opie Taylor. We both grew into beautiful women---Tatum and I, not Ron Howard- so no reason to stop reading or sputter to reverse "You weren't ugly" because I was. It's OK. I'm good and now you have a visual.

    The boys were in fifth or sixth grade at the Patterson Main Building. I was still a tyke at the Patterson Cottages, which housed K-3. In fourth grade I had to schlep to the main building, but at this time, I walked a few blocks to school.

    So I marched over to the bigger boys and shouted at them to stop being dicks to the ducks.

    OK, so maybe I didn't use my teenaged spicy mohawk vocab. I said "Stop throwing rocks at the ducks." I know my demeanor suggests I was shouting "Don't be a dick" in the second grade, but I was not. I did not use foul language.

    Now, they stopped, but not because I told them. They stopped because I was the new target.

    Only a few pebbles were lacklusterly thrown---even a small person is more risky than a duck. So there was little heart in it, they just wanted me to leave. When I didn't move, they tossed another pebble into the pond and moved on.

    This is not the end of the story.

    My walking route to the Cottages took me directly by the blonde boy's house. Daily. I could have walked on the other side of the narrow suburban street but he would have seen me. He stood at his window and waited. Daily. With his buddy. 

    As soon as I came into view, they'd emerge. They wouldn't start yelling until they were on the sidewalk outside of the house--their parents might hear them, I guess? As soon as they were behind me, keeping a distance that was close enough for me to hear but far enough not to touch me, they'd start bellowing. "Duck Lady! Duck Lady!"

    This went on for at least a year. Either their schedule changed or they no longer cared. But at some point, they just stopped. One day I walked past the house and it was quiet, the door shut.  I went on with my life. Which includes my pride at standing up to duck bullies, and persevering their verbal torment on the way to school.

__________________________________________________________________________

    The year before, the playground bully Ricky Garcia had started in on me. I had a brown bodysuit and skirt combo I absolutely loved--largely because it was not underwear, it was a BODY SUIT and I could flip on the monkey bars.

    Until Ricky decided it was underwear, and began to bellow that kryssi had BROWN UNDERWEAR!

___________________________________________________________________________

    I attended O'Connell Jr High in 7th grade only. Most of my Patterson friends were with me, and I continued choir and band at first. Then the schedule changed and I had to choose. I chose choir.

    I also chose to love Mork and Mindy and the Beatles. My mom bought me Mork suspenders which I wore with Great Glee, accompanied by striped socks. I'd roll up my pant legs and sing "Yellow Submarine" with my friends in the halls. 

    I was not aware that this behavior enraged the popular girls. I was shouldered, pushed into lockers and called names. At one point, they lined up at the end of the hall to block my path. When I told my mom, she contacted the AP,  whose name I recall as being "Mr. Green" who told her I was making it up. When it continued, she scheduled an appointment with him. He wanted names. I didn't know all their names. The ones I passed on through mom apparently "Didn't exist", and besides I was asking for it. I really should just shut up and stop calling attention to myself. That's why I was being bothered, he said. In the same breath that he said I was making it up he said I brought it on myself. I needed to stop being...me.

    Instead, I continued. I participated in the talent show with my friend Karen, performing a silly song, while the popular girls---clad in tight Jordache jeans and scarves, dancing to "Le Chic"---mocked me from the wings. Not just mocked---threatened. They flipped their brown hair and stabbed me with their brown eyes and laughed, pointed, whispered "we're going to get you", etc. I had not seen West Side Story by this time in my life, when I saw it later it would cause PTSD. After the talent show, I was pushed in front of a moving car on my way to the school bus.

    I can't say this is why we sold the house and moved, but mom and dad sold the house and we moved. I did eighth grade at Dunstan, where my weirdness didn't seem to upset anyone.

     I don't have any patience for bullying.

                                Scene.

Take The Positive When You Can-60

 

    9 December 2025

    I was in the hall with my coteacher when the Dean of Culture stopped by. He's not much of a chatter, I assumed he wanted something. But no, he was honestly just trying to distract himself. He referred to me as "young lady"--he is five years younger than me at least. In a very proud and not rude way, I laughed and said "Dude I think I'm the oldest teacher in the builing." Politely-the same kind of "I was raised to be polite" way he called me "young lady"---he said nothing. My coteacher , however, who is half my age, had no issue asking. When I gave him the number, he said "Damn, really? Amazing, you're awesome I figured mid fifties."

     The dean stayed silent, either because he is polite or shocked that I'm older. 

     Either way, it was nice to have someone NOT know I'm an old crone.

     I'll take it.

    I'm 60. I can't retire because I need the insurance and I don't want to continue because I'm old and tired. And my insurance is being changed  and will be insufficient. So. I'll take that I look five years younger than I am.

        __________________________________________________________________________

        

    

The Are You Kidding Me Insurance Post

 

        9 December 2025

        My child-- a professional business owner who works hard---now has to choose between insurance and rent. 

        Why?

        Their insurance cost increased 3X this month. 

        They are not being provided with better insurance. It is not more inclusive--like adding coverage for hospital stays or ambulance. Nope. It's just the usual baseline--you get a doctor on paper, but it's unlikley you can get an appoinment. And if you do, there is a 50/50 chance the receptionist will turn you away due to a clerical error and still charge you the "no show" fee. 

         If this is news to you, you are richer than we are. And fortunate. Congratulations on your wealth and good looks. 

         The rest of us have had this happen.

        DPS has unilaterally decided that the district no longer offers Kaiser as an option for us. 

        They did not ask us. They did not ask the union.

        There are literally thousands of teachers on Kaiser through the district-which subsidizes the cost so we can manage to exist- who are being thrown to the capitalist wolves of United Health care or something called something out of Utah. Nobody asked us what we preferred, and we have to use district insurance options as the cost of the exchanges outpaces our cost of living by 4X. If I sign up for Kaiser on my own, it's 1/3 of my salary. One-Third. You heard that correctly.

        Both United Health and Whoever In Utah are Insurance COMPANIES who are BROKERS. So they take your money and pass you off to Centra Health or another "health agency" and fuck you if none of their physicans are taking new patients. Enjoy paying for insurance you cannot use.

        The article I read said there are 7500 of us. Seven THOUSAND and five HUNDRED public school employees who will be funneled into two other options, who will clearly have hundreds of physicans joyfully accepting new patients.

         Again: they did this BEHIND OUR BACKS. Just threw us off our insurance, forcing us to bow to an inferior and cheaper company because somebody at the district is getting a kickback that Kaiser refused to also offer.

        You know that's what happened.

        And if you don't, you're lying because you're part of the problem or you're an infant.

why they hate me

 

        reverse freedoms

     

        1 July 2025

    Here's where we are.

    We've attended the protests with signs stating "MY GRANDMOTHER WON ME THE RIGHT TO VOTE, YOU DON'T GET TO TAKE IT"  and "KEEP ABORTION LEGAL: MY BODY, MY CHOICE!

       We called and emailed our representatives.    

       We called and emailed their representatives.

       We attended both live and virtual town meetings, spoke and and were even removed for asking questions.

        They slashed our rights, anyway.

        Think of the dragon of Silene, or Beowulf--how they went down. Evil dragons do not go easily, or quietly, and they take anyone they can with them. We are now fighting evil. Keep that image in mind as we forge through this, and accept that we may not all make it. And that's OK. I, for one, will die with my boots on.   

        Forward is the only direction: How do we survive from  here? How do we continue in a country that clearly hates us?

        We've no choice but to get a passport. If you do not have one already, it will take months, but you need to do it. Now. Today. You'll need your birth certificate--contact your county of birth for a copy. As backup, get a copy of your marriage license as well, from the county in which you were married. If you're over 50, you probably have your social security card stuffed in your wallet behind your state driver's license as well. Collect everything, apply for your passport.

        Not because you are leaving the country, but because if you are married, they're trying to stop you from voting. Your married name---on your social security card, state driver's license, taxes, paycheck, house title, car title--your legal freaking name ---does not match your birth certificate, so they can deny you voting access. BONUS, they can also deny you traveling to another state, forcing you to surrender your state driver's license for a Federal ID that will not let you drive or rent a car, and you'll have to retake your driver's tests when you return to your home state.

        A passport---at the moment---will avoid this ludicrous insanity.

        And if you are young and planning on getting married----don't take his name. Just don't do it. It'll save a nightmare in the future, and honestly, the whole system is about women as possessions, not people. It should have been stopped decades ago.

        Do Not Leave Your House Alone. Your early morning run or evening workout should already require that you check in with someone before you leave and when you arrive. If at all possible, take someone with you. Please. We are not safe any more. Absolutely do not go to a bar, movie, restaurant alone. Have a plan posted someplace that your husband, mother, girlfriend, wife, partner, best friend---someone---knows about that states your weekly schedule and contact numbers of individuals you see daily ( your bosses, colleagues). Think CSI is in your house and you've gone missing: where did you put your information for them to find?

        Do you have a lawyer? Find one if you can. Their name is on the top of your plan.

        Buy food at the farmer's market. Food poisoning is on the rise, whenever possible buy your food locally and prepare your own meals.

        If you are fortunate enough to have health care, use it. See your doctor, get your yearly physical, mammograms, pap test. Start paying more attention to how you exercise and eat. Prepare as if you are going to lose access to your health care by the end of the year. This includes finding alternate ways to get your meds--by mail from Canada is a popular choice. Change your thinking about access and start shifting toward "What if" and a barter system. Change your definition of "Self Care" to "I don't have healthcare".

        Use Karen For Good And Not Evil. She need only be unleashed on ICE or any bullying that you encounter. Leave your neighbor's fence, their garbage cans, their poopy dog, their 17 cars parked in front of their house, the hell alone. You have the power of crazy, unleash it on what matters: fight inequity, injustice, prejudice, assaults and kidnapping. Use your phone to record ICE detentions. Ask the detainee  como te llamas?(koh-MOH teh YAH-mas) and cuantos anos ( quantos an-ohs). At the grocery store, demand to see the manager when you discover an unacceptable number of expired items on the shelves and get a contact number for the corporate office and follow through. Go higher. Don't yell at clerks, they have no power. Go after the Big Guys, follow the money and find the problem.

        Stand Up For Other Women. Don't let your job title allow you to bully other women, or to allow someone else to bully a woman. Straighten her crown without anybody noticing. Help her help herself.

        Volunteer. Somewhere. Anywhere. The animal shelter, usher at your regional theatre, drive one day a week for Meals on Wheels, help load in from the food bank---hell, donate to the food bank. Do Something For Someone Else.

      Mostly, please stop yelling at clerks and calling the police on birdwatchers. Use your Mrs. Kravitz energy to impact change for the greater good, not for yourself.

        Wear sunscreen. And a hat -at the protest you are attending even though it seems to be an uphill battle. You're a woman. You're a mom. You know it's all uphill and we do it anyway.

        If you have a straight white male in your life who is saying things like "I don't know anything about that" or "It is beyond my control", and he is sharing your bed, consider going Lysistrata on his ass until he joins the real world. This may prove more motivating than simply saying "Just bury your head in the sand and wait for your fucking prom".

        Control What You Can.

        Repaint a room, refurbish furniture. Spend additional time with your children or parents or friends. Teach summer school. Finish "That Project" you've been meaning to complete for years. Learn to stitch or knit or crochet or write or paint or garden or work out or explore parts of your state. Make small micro plans to the zoo or coffee or rearrange your office--things you can complete easily and quickly and have complete control over. We've learned quickly we have no control over anything being decided about our lives--regardless of emails, phone calls and protests---and the only way to stay sane is to control something productive. Use it for good, not evil. We are women, and we build: we do not destroy.

Deep Thoughts

 

            I wrote this in August.

            Things I Don't Do:

            Cross a picket line.

            Rape young girls.

            Kidnap humans who do not look like me.

            Adding these in December:

            Call the military fat and gay.

            Blow up fishing boats.

            Pardon drug lords.

            Scream at  a man wearing a pink sweater.

            Strip women's rights to their own bodies.

            Disrespect the American constitution.

            Hate.