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.

        

             

Yes And...

     This year has been like a never ending improv game.

     The kind of long form, unfunny improv that doesn't make it past rehearsals because it has failed.

     Improv's cardinal rule is to take what you are given in the scene, and reply "yes, and" --meaning you accept the information and add to it. This is a concept Michael Scott did not comprehend, and therefore he always brought a gun into the scene, supporting the thesis that he is not a smart person. Actually...hold on. That's not a bad metaphor for our current situation. The point of "yes, and" is to keep the story going. Only bullies and people who think they're funny shut down improv stories. Everyone else keeps them going with "yes, and" so the full story can stretch out, and the funny can be found organically, not forced in the name of a fast laugh.

       Anyway, there are so many "Breaking News" stories that are eternal long form improv lists. "Pete Hegseth is a War God" and we go "Yes, and he blew up fishing boats",  "Yes and he told the military they are fat and gay"... This adminstration started that way, and unfortunately the "humor" turned sour after the fourth "Yes, and". "Trump Is A Rapist". "Yes, and he bankrupt casinos". "Yes, and he's a documented racist". "Yes, and he called a woman 'Piggy'" . "Yes, and he told reporters they were stupid for asking a valid and accurate question". We keep waiting for it to be funny, or at least for the red hats to figure out that the whole administration is absurd. But as they've proven, stupid people don't understand satire and cannot recognize when they're being punked.

        The unabashed and deliberate cruelty that has been unleased is where I stop. I stop reading social media posts, I stop attempting to reason with red hats. You elected a rapist in the name of "He's a good businessman".  You're either stupid or cruel. 

        Turns out you are both. There is no room for any more discussion. In the history of the presidency, nobody this unhinged has been elected. A turd so hateful that he has unearthed the hate in other men like him, who believe they can bully and restrain and strip rights and break the law because they are stupid and feel entitled and need to blame someone else for their own inadquecy. 

        This deadly combonation has the rest of us---by "The Rest of Us" I mean educated, working class, generally female humans who feel compassion and can agree that the system was broken, but all that has been done now is to shatter what remained of any attempt at law or consequences or compassion--covering our heads while delivering food to our neighbors, continuing to pester our ineffective representatives and pretending we don't hear you when you call the new mayor of New York a communist or suggest that you can easily "take care" of liberals by going building to building across the nation and shooting them dead.

        I can't even look at you and say "yes, and..." because you're wrong and this isn't funny.

        I'm not scared of you. I'm not even mad at you any more. 

        All I have is pity for your inadequacies. Pity and the knowledge that eventually you are going to pay for this.

        Yes, you are going to pay. Yes, and...

Long Live Jambi A Farce

 

        The Female Odd Couple by Neil Simon is a great comedy. But not a farce. He did not write it as a farce. He wrote Rumors  as a farce. Not The Odd Couple. That's just a comedy.

        At least it wasn't a farce until fifteen minutes into Act 1 on Saturday, 15 November 2025 on the Kennedy Stage. At which point it became glorious farce. If The Play That Goes Wrong had not already been written, I'd be penning Odd Couple Goes Wrong.

        Mounting the first show in five years using only the kids who signed up for class was a struggle from day one. With no judgement, the schedule would not allow upper level IB kids to enroll. In the eight person class I had : one severe mental health issue who stopped coming to class in October, three IEP's--one with severe anger issues, one with a reading level at sixth grade and one with anxiety, two who were also in sports, one kid who couldn't come to class on Thursdays due to his concurrent enrollment college classes and one who was also in choir and band. Three of the eight were also in choir, but one kid only had choir and band--no IEP, no mental health issues or sports.

        No judgement. But this mix meant that I had to cast two of the roles from outside of class, causing more anxiety for actors in the class trying to learn lines. Mounting the first show in five years, with kids who cannot rehearse after school, and cast members in three different classes seems like it would be enough of an obstacle. It was not enough: add reading defecits, anxiety, anger management issues and serious memorization impediments and the stumbling blocks become mountains. 

    In other words:the kids had to not only learn Neil Simon banter, but had to prepare for at least one ( the truth was two)of their cast mates going up on her lines more than once.

        So the stress was high, and I was not taking bets on IF they'd go up. It was happening at rehearsals. Once "Sylvie" exited the apartment a page early. I said "So that could happen. What're you going to do?"

        Let's not forget our intrepid IEP Anxiety ridden first time stage manager. I just said "When they freeze and go quiet, ring the phone or the doorbell."

        The Friday show went better than they deserved. A few minor hitches and skipped lines, but nothing impacting entrances, phone calls or exits. The stage manager, a kid with high anxiety and a heartbreaking desire to do everything correctly, had been prepped by me to simply ring the doorbell or the phone if the Trivial Pursuit game went silent. He was ready, but was not needed on Friday.

        Saturday however...something went hideodeously wrong. "Sylvie" had proven herself despite her sixth grade reading level, completely capable of memorization. Listening for cues, and knowing it was her cue was the challenge for which everyone was prepped. "Vinny"---because I had an extra guy in the class, so "Vera" revereted back to the male version "Vinny" who decieded his character was gay--would beat himself up when he missed a line. Struggling to keep the anger issues at bay, he was not always successful. In rehearsals when he would miss a line, or say it in the wrong place, and stop and look at me in the audience. No amount of shouting"You CANNOT GO SILENT AND BREAK THE FOURTH WALL", notegiving, whispering one on one or coaching seemed to sink in. He would freeze and cuss under his breath. Becuase I told him if he dropped an F bomb on my stage he'd never do a show again. So at least he dropped the Fuck Volume.

          So. Saturday. "Olive" is the only kid on stage with any experience --from junior high--and struggles with lines but for the most part stays on track. The storyline at the top of Act 1 is told in banter, fracturing the narrative between three phone calls to tell the audience that Florence is missing and has stated she's going to kill herself. On Cue, the doorbell rings and there she is- as Olive states "Of course, where's the best place to kill yourself? With your friends." This line is a good 20 minutes into Act 1.

        On Saturday, Sylvie skipped at least one line. Maybe two. Usually "Renee" would hop in to save her, as she was prepped when she joined the cast from another class that her job was to make sure she knew Sylvie's lines as well. But for some reason, she also missed it. There was silence. Then Vinny said a line from a full page forward, and everyone went silent again. Vinny then started chanting "fuck fuck fuck" under his breath as he paced around the table. Sylvie tried to help by throwing a line closer to where they'd lost the thread only to have Renee say a line two pages later. Olive, trying to at least figure out where they were, anchored with a line about Florence missing. Which meant they'd skipped a phone call. At this point the SM is apoplexic trying to decide if he should ring the phone or the doorbell. The panic continued, as each character tried to throw a line in that made sense, when Olive said "Of course, where's the best place to kill yourself? With your friends." 

    But the doorbell had not rung, and there had been no mention of Florence going out to kill herself. The actors froze. The SM did exactly as he should have. He heard the cue so he rang the doorbell, and crossed his fingers that Florence would be at the door when it opened.

     She was. 

    There are much worse things that could've gone wrong. Everything these kids know about theatre they've learned in three months. Many mistakes are worse. Honestly, they kept going No Mattter What and the audience was not aware of the glitch. Unless they were also present on Friday, and knew the missing lines.

        I was in the lobby when the drama unfolded. I returned at Florence's entrance. The SM immediately descended upon me in paniced whispers "Ok, so here's what went wrong." I shook my head and smiled. I whispered back "Is anyone dead?" He shook his head. "Is anything on fire?" Again, negative. "Then it doesn't matter. The show goes on. You're fine."

        And that was how I knew the curse really was lifted.

        Long Live Jambi.