60 Years Are Too Many: Week One July Pony School

     12 July

        Okie dokie...water days.

        I cannot get the timing right, but July kids are definitely moving at a much slower pace than June.

        I did have a panicked day Thursday. One of our autistic kids who is "non verbal"--he makes sounds and he knows what he's saying--and is the sweetest kiddo in the land, also has suffered a major concussion. Technically his cranium is fractured.

        So he has to wear a helmet on the tricycles. But he's "OK" for everything else.

        Enter kryssi.

        The pony wranglers disagreed on whether he could ride or not. Every kid has a helmet, so that's not the issue. He shook his head and said "no pony" which lowered my blood pressure, but when he was asked again by the teenage pony wrangler he nodded. The teenage wrangler and the adult wrangler disagreed-they have both talked to his mom but seem to have received opposing information-and they chose to let him ride, and I had to breathe and force myself to stand still. He only did one time around,and was ready to get off. 

        Let me clear up the disagreement. Nobody shouted. Their voices were projected because they had ponies between them. But not anger. Just two caring humans trying to suss out what is best for a kid. All My Love.

        Once he was off the pony I was fine.

        While the wranglers celebrated how brave he was, I almost cried.

        This is new. I've never been this stressed out before about a preschooler at pony camp, and I have no idea what my own addled 60 year old brain is doing.

        I had relaxed about water day because the castle didn't get blown up in the morning for some reason. Word was we weren't using the castle and slide, just the pools. Cool. No worries. But then the castle got blown up.

        Is he supposed to wear his helmet to go down the slide?

        Is he even allowed to go down the slide? Kids hella head first ram down and if another kid is standing at the bottom of the slide, not paying attention, it's ugly.

        So he'd have to wear the helmet.

        But he's heavier, and my experience on the ladder has been that heavier kids struggle mightlily.

        Multiply these thoughts over 30 minutes of me standing next to him in the pool. I said he couldn't go on the slide, and he was fine with that, he played with the sprayer and stomped in the water. Once he was at the bottom of the slide when a hella head first kiddo raced toward him, and I reached out to grab him and yelled his name. 

        Everyone stared at me.

        Oh my god...I have no real experience with head injuries, so this is not PTSD. I don't have any idea what it is, but it's exhausting.

        So I had someone over my pay grade talk directly with his mom, who said he's fine without a helmet on the next water day. "He can do anything,"  she said.

        Yes, he can, the autism does not impact anything in his behaviors. He does craft, plays on the playground, has a friend who plays with him--honestly, he's A Great Kid. He can do everything, but if his cranium is fractured should he do everything?

        Again popcicles took forever,and it was 92 degrees out. These kids are just soaking it up I guess, but getting them out of the pools was easy. They were tired.

        The FAFO kid from Monday who had the door slammed on his fingers didn't come back. Sometimes there's a scheduled vacation and they forget to tell us. Sometimes they have a bad experience and don't wish to return.

        Next week we have "field trip"--in quotes because they come to us---from Rocky Mountain ...Something Animals Something.

        Likely snakes and lizards. I wanted a puma.

        My coteacher wanted a lemur. After announcing it with her outside voice, she laughed and said "Yes, from the Rocky Mountains- I'd like a lemur", to which I responded "I demand a panda".

        Ugh. Snakes. So I got that to look forward to.

        Last year it was the Aquarium and the Arvada Fire Department. 

        Hoping the Rocky Mountain Something Animal Something has a good representative. The ones from the aquarium were great, but their content was a bit too old. Yet they had a shark's jaw, which is always A Win.

        Tomorrow it's supposed to be anywhere from 95-102 depending on who you talk to.

        Once more, into the breach.

        Scene.

        

60 Years Are Too Many: Pizza to Potty Training

     12 July 2026

        Lindsey Graham is dead. Guess there was no way to lie about that one. But his words are coming back---they are all liars and flip floppers, depending on who pays them the most.  Mortality up for grabs to the highest bidder. He was not unique in that aspect. 'bye, Felicia. Loony Loomer thinks he was poisoned by Russia while in the Ukraine. Sure. Why not?

       Poor Mitch is being held between two worlds like he's in a book written by Robin Cook.

       And we're still executing people, pretending "they tried to run me over with their car". Good God. I'm not supposed to be sick to my stomach? The cruelty is heinous and revolting.

       I haven't paid this much attention to "politics" in my life. If they were just boring politics I'd likely pass, but it's become a moral battle ground and I am admittedly addicted.

        Trump is signing Truth social posts "Praise Be To Allah". Nobody can deactivate his account? Turn off his phone? At least hide it? Stop letting him talk on camera, stop asking him to call in, stop reposting. Stop. Full Stop. We cannot do this any more you looney.

    "Pain is something that happens to all of us, but suffering is a choice." Jackson Galaxy. He's my latest Yoda, we binged My Cat From Hell over the fourth of July holiday.

       Some mornings I wake up with great stories, plays, engaging blog ideas in my head and the walk from the bedroom runs them off into the ether.

       Some mornings I wake up distressed, disregulated and distracted but I force myself to sit here and write. I don't post everything, but I'm not embarassed to post garbage. I'm a theatre kid: I need an audience, even if it's crap. Even if it's just one of you who reads.

        Part of my deep dream realizations is that I am supposed to keep writing. So I do, even if there's nothing to say. My dream/spirit and Stephen King both told me to write daily and I ignored them for 60 years. Again: nobody is forced to read any of this.

        I just realized it's healing. The last time I committed to a full King Writing Jag I wrote myself out of a job. DANG-SKIPPY.

        Yesterday we spent with our grandson Fox and our children. Harp and Scott took him to Boondocks--he loves that place---then we met them at Cicis Pizza and took Fox and Genoa to a movie. Fox loves Harp and Genoa, it's nice to watch.

        Cicis Pizza. Dude. Blast from the past. There was one in Littleton, we used to feed the hoards of performing arts kids there. I'm so glad they still exist--they are needed. This one was in Aurora. It was busy for lunch on a Saturday. While they did not have macaroni pizza, they had cinnamon rolls and brownies, so Fox was not disappointed. Our family were no strangers to Cicis once I was made aware of their existence,they're necessary for families of any and all economic denominations, and performing arts departments. Our fam struggled for several years and relied on Cicis for dinner.

        We went to see Minions and Monsters. I can't remember the last time I saw a movie in the theatre, honestly.  Theater. Movie, not live.

        I had a great time.

        The movie seemed a little adult-y cheeky at times---one of the characters said "bastards" and I blinked twice and thought "Oh, we're doing that now?"I thought the goal was to indirectly blow the adult stuff over the heads of the kids, not directly say "bastards" to their face. One of the character's name was "Dick" and that was pushing it, but didn't bother me the way bastards did. Maybe I'm just an old prude.

        I appreciated all the old school Hollywood allusions. Which you could call "Ripping off " or you could call "A respectful homage". Tomato--tohmahtoh.

        Here's the thing with CPR/NPR. They are at least reporting the news, which I deeply appreciate, but their tones when reporting on the fires are grating on me. I want them to sound horrified. To be fair, they are starting to sound "over it" every week when the war "cease fire" never actually ceased or "started again" and the Hormutz whiplash is horrifyingly normalized. Their tones change--as they should. We live in insanity.

        Ok, what else. Turning off CPR. Outside of Graham's death, it's all news I already heard from Aaron Parnas and I can't write and listen to words. I like binaural beats. I play it off of You Tube on my school laptop. When we were writing monologues in Theatre 2, one of the kids asked me to "put on that cool zen music you listen to" while they wrote. The next week she told me she'd started listening to it regularly and honestly thought her concentration was better. She's transferring to East next year -they have an established theatre department and I'm rebuilding, she thinks it's better for her. Ok. In my department where we're rebuilding you're a star, but sure. Go to a bigger, established department where you can be in the ensemble. I doubt my music choice informed her enrollment decision. 'bye Felicia.

        One of my former Littleton kids is working on Colorado Shakes. That's pretty great. Lilli Hokama did it a few years back, now it's Aaron Klass' turn. Steph goes every year, she sent me a photo of the program. I've never gone. It's too overwhelming--too much parking and walking and people. I went up for Jim's college graduation, that was enough.

        I applied to a directing job I didn't really want, and he must have known because I didn't get it. Who I Am is someone who works in a high school and can't wait to be done working in a high school. I'm not interested in directing adults. Not anymore. I was at one point, so I did it, and discovered I really don't like directing adults. They already think they know everything. Why would I direct kids with that attitude during the day, and then over the summer direct adults with that attitude? No thanks. I'd rather take insurance claims online at home.

        No, really I'd like to teach lang arts from home. Or theatre history. I DO enjoy that stuff. Maybe if the Kennedy theatre gets up and running and goes into innovation, someone younger can take the theatre and I can go teach LA10. The thing with lang arts is they have to be there, and if they aren't so what; the future of the lang arts department doesn't rest on their apathetic shoulders. Unlike theatre where the pressure is immense to get them to care and like a content they give no turds about. I had five kids in fifth period and four in sixth period who were still showing up at the end of the year. It was brutal. 

        Counseling puts them in theatre because the kid has no idea what theatre entails,and they think it's like an art class where nobody notices if they ditch. Or choir where they can hide/ditch without consequence. Theatre doesn't work like that, and I'm exhausted after 24 years of explaining that. I can just teach theatre history, but that's not going to build the department or engage students. Neither does mime, combat, play reading, radio plays, puppet theatre, improv or tap dancing. So...I completely failed at building the department through class size. I only made it because I highjacked my theatre 2 for the fall show and the choir for a musical.

        You have to have a product to recruit. I chose this approach because it was the most bang for my buck. At least I could get shows up and audiences in so I could say "We have theatre, see? Come take a class."

        I thought my license expired next spring, but it doesn't expire until 2028. UGH. I was all ready for this to be my last year. I really don't feel like renewing my license again. If we go into innovation, that's it. I suspect most of the staff will vacate at the end of the year. We lost all the AP's this spring and summer---of course we did. They're jumping ship. They know the district is after us and You Can't Fight The Man, so they bailed. No hard feelings at all. They're young. One went to become a principal, which is valid, why are you an AP if you don't want your own building? I'll put money on our principal bailing and we'll find out in August. She's not being allowed to do what's needed for the community, there are two district suits in place, and they are definitely running the building.

        The beauty of being theatre is I'm separated from most of it. I don't have to teach to the test. I do have to proctor, but whatever. I do have to post my CLO's--which is utter stupidity in a theatre--so I write ONE on a giant poster paper and teach to whatever it says on the days I'm observed. It doesn't stick very well on the proskene, but again; I am in a THEATRE, where would you like me to post this dumb shit? 

        I have to alter my plan for observation days to check certain boxes on my evaluation. I find this to be an effective way to grade me on my teaching. YOU HEARD THE SARCASM I KNOW YOU DID. I was just doing improv on every eval day, but it doesn't check boxes like "using technology" and "literacy".  I hate it and I can't wait to get out.

        You know, I have friends in private schools and they don't make the teachers do this shit. You know why? Because parents of private school kids make sure they have rides to practice, eat dinner and do their homework. So the teachers are not to blame for the failure of the students.

        In public school, where parents struggle to work two jobs or are one parent households, and kids work or babysit after school and live below poverty line, below hope for a way out, it's the teachers' fault they're failing. So we get punished with multiple evaluations and "New Approaches To Teaching" and SEL and Culturally Responsive Teaching.

        And I'm sure you heard, now elementary teachers in public schools are being told they have to potty train.

        I am not talking about special needs. That goes with the job, it's accepted.

        I'm talking about lazy ass parents who do not potty train their children before they enter kindergarten.

        This was happening in Aurora right about 2022/2023. Teachers were stymied. It didn't last long, as the un potty trained were relentlessly ostricized by the potty trained,and it didn't last.

        I hope that is how this is going to go down. I think it's a Washington state district that proclaimed teachers have to potty train. 

        Nope. I'm out.

        What the hell is wrong with people?

        Sigh.

        Scene.

        

60 Years Are Too Many: Dream Interp

     11 July

        It isn't that you don't dream, you don't remember.

       It isn't that the pieces don't mean anything, you are just uninterested.    

       And that OK. It's not for everyone.

       My pony camp co teacher was talking about her astrological sign, and asked if I was "Into that sort of thing". I explained briefly yes, but it's all derivitive.

        She enjoyed that explanation a lot, as it explained much to her. I was happy to be of service.

        I'm 60, I've always been able to talk to dead people  and I'm in theatre. Remember I was also a church kid for all of my youth. So yes, I've been "into" that sort of thing. I still occasionally dabble in tarot. Back in the day I had my  astrological cards "done" with my birth sign and which sign was in each house. I've had psychic friends--my real friends, not a 1-900 phone number--give me past life flashes, which at times has explained a peculiar avoidance or fear of mine that otherwise had no root. I love graveyards.I learned palmistry. I trucked with crystals and I still believe in the value of smudging and incense. 

        I'm not a witch or a psychic. I'm just a person with a unique sensitivity who was interested in learning the symbols while also believing in God.

        The one aspect that has stuck with me is dream interpretation. Largely because it's science, and everything in your dream is symbolic of something in your waking life. Also, it's Biblical so that makes my mom happy. Our brains are fascinating, and I grew up with the myth "We only use 10%" which may not be a myth so much as shifting scientific research. I do not believe we use our whole brain. If we did, we wouldn't need dreams. 

        Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

        I'm not a professional neuroscientist or astrologer, I'm just a person who learned some stuff and uses it to explain my mental state and help in moments of deep despair.

        We all know we're in something big right now. A massive shift. Some use the word "apocolypse" some do not. It's not just the united states, it's the planet.

        As such, people who aren't generally sensitive are experiencing vivid dreams, anxiety attacks, and such. People who are sensitive are experiencing vivid dreams, anxiety attacks and such.

        There's nothing we can do about it. It's universal. It's out of our control. Which is driving the Red Hats straight into anger apoplexic implosions, but it's accurate. "Apocolyptic energy" does not mean "apocolypse", but you go right ahead and scream "rapture". 

        I know I can't control it. But as a control freak, I wish to understand it.

        I have had a few massive deep, wonderful dreams the last few weeks. The kind that make you wish you lived in the dream on not on this dumpster planet. The issue is, even if they are wonderful and not terrors, I still struggle the next day because I am Not Rested. I was too busy galavanting in my mind all night, enjoying myself. Because face it, if you have a good dream in 2026 you have no desire to wake up.

        So I thought I'd give y'all a bit of help. You can look up dream symbols in Dream Moods oline-they're pretty accurate--but a baseline is always nice. We'll do pieces of my dream last night, which was magnificent but I only remember flashes. I had one a few weeks ago that made me wake up with thorough epiphanies, I was actually energized, but the actual plot/colors/symbols of the dream itself melted off.

        If I was an artist my life would be so much easier, I could draw this dream location. It's new, we all have set locales we use over and over---it was the basis for that movie Inception-but this place was entirely new.

        It was a college campus connected by a "lagoon" to another college campus. My brain told me it was the University of Utah and the University of Washington. I know georgraphy and I know that's impossible: dream. Both campus' looked like mountain tourist towns-dark wood store fronts and restaurants, people everywhere. Both sides had big wood stairs you had to ascend to the main campus, and descend to the beautiful green water.

        I had impressions of whales and dolphins, but do not remember seeing any. There was a chimpanzee who crossed my path and I scratched his head, and a massive black prehistoric pteradactyl at one end of the pool, guarding it. His skin was like a seal's, it was thick and shiny. He didn't move or make any noise. Just watched. He fascinated me.

        I was wearing red pants and some sort of red/grey 1980's jacket. Possibly a Michael Jackson jacket, possibly a letter jacket. I took a picture of myself with my red flip phone and my hair was shoulder length and I was skinny. I was deliriously happy even though I knew I had crossed from Utah to Washington and I needed to get back. Usually these dreams are anxiety filled and horrible, but I just wandered around watching people talk and eat and looking at the pool. Several people called out "I like your jacket", and each time I looked down it was somewhat different---MJ or letterman.

        I made my way past the pteradactyl--which I know we're supposed to call pterandons now but that's not who he was--and climbed the stairs. I walked close enough to him to see water on his skin, which is how I knew it was like a seal, not a bird. He'd emerged from the pool as I passed by. I was not threatened by him at all, I thought he was beautiful. He just quietly watched me.

         I arrived at the top of the stairs and looked at the names of the storefronts on the dark wood buildings, and thought I must have walked the wrong way and I'd have to go back. I guess the names were unfaimilair. Then I woke up.

        Cool, huh?

        Nope. Only cool to me. That's the thing with dreams----Nobody Else Cares.

        But I can use this to help you unpack yours if you're interested.

        Upper levels ---upstairs, mountain tops, towns at the top of the stairs--are your  spirital conscious. Stuff you are still trying to obtain or settle, but on a spiritual level.

        Mid levels- Stuff you know you are dealing with in your waking life.  I didn't have a mid level, but I suspect that was the university mountain town, since it wasn't really an upstairs level.

        Lover levels--basements, cellars, lagoons--are your unconscious. The stuff you are not consciously dealing with. Everything in the lagoon is waiting for me to deal with it.

        Water is life. I have water in dreams constantly, at least it's not flooding or threatening me in this dream. It's beautiful and calm. A truly nice change.

        Colors usually are whatever that color means to you. Blue is generally calming. Green in generally growth. Red is intense feelings. Black is usually transformative---at least for me, it's a change that is occuring. Unless it is a black shape in a cellar, that's a different issue.

        Pteradactyl- a need to confront a wild side, or a deeper instinct.

        See? If you know the symbols, you don't have to drive yourself crazy figuring out the meaning. You're a smart person who can put puzzle pieces together.

        This was helpful to me when I had a dream about a blue gorilla trying to force feed from my porch, and I had to slam the door on him.

        If you do this and it clicks, text me. I'd love to know.

        Scene.

        

60 Years Are Too Many: Monsters and Buffy

 9 July 2026

        Last weekend we binged My Cat From Hell. Here is Jackson Galaxy's thesis as I understand it: "I can't do everything. I'm here to show you how to do it too, so we can all work together."

        Buffy to a child "There are real monsters, and we can't all fight real monsters, but some people can. And that's me. (and I am not an island, I need my friends)." That last part was her subtext, as Buffy was a hero, but was nothing without her community.

        If we combine these themes, we arrive in a place that does not even remotely resemble America today.

        So. I'm saying. Combine those themes. We are in charge yet we refuse to stand up and be in charge. We watch the bullies, waiting for the hero to arrive.

        There is nobody coming to save us.

        We are the only ones who can save us, and we're choosing not to.

        We've been given all the tools. We know how to rescue animals, yet we choose not to. We know how to support science and believe in their conclusions, yet we choose not to. We fought for gun rights and then let bullies take over the country.    

        And so on and so on and so on ad infinium.

        That's all I have to say about current events. The stupid are leading the stupid and the smart are getting the shaft.

        And lucky for us, both types have corrupt rich butt wads who are selfishly concerned about their own portfolios, and fuck the people. We are chastied by other countries more than our own representatives. 

        And they're keeping Mitch "alive" to avoid consequeces. And he's on their side.

        Monsters.

    

(fb)60 Years Are Too Many: And The Band Played On

 

    8 July 2026

        It is a struggle to write and force myself into something "positive" while listening to NPR and functioning as a thinking, compassionate human.

        But screaming into the void isn't going to help. Heather Delaney Reese/Cox Richardson, Aaron Parnas, and Rachel Maddow are covering every aspect of the USA Demise thoroughly. I also like Ooooh That's Rich, Pissed Magistus, Meidas Touch and Monte Mader.

        And NPR.

        So...maybe I should step away for a minute.

        5555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555= 

        Houston just took a stroll across the keyboard. She needs to stick her nose in my ice tea.

        At the same time, I'm doing walking Tai Chi and going back to the gym. Which is not helping but at least I'm doing something while watching Monte and Pissed, OOOH, or the Britsh guy who says "But you don't want to look like a thickie thickie dumb dumb in front of your mates." 

        I can no longer take solace in animal videos because AI has corrupted that. AI ruins everything.

        Forcing myself to write stupid little tidbits is very much like the band playing while the Titanic sank. They made a difference to nobody. Nobody was distracted by the music while freezing to death.

        But I think I understand them now. They did it for themselves. They were doomed, so they chose to go out doing what they loved.

        They did it for themselves.

        So here I am.

        July pony school today was M/W kids' water day. I hate water day, I know it's great for the kids, but the schedule is disrupted and no matter how well you think you're managing towels and shoes and crafts---I won't change anybody into their street clothes, they arrive wearing their swim suit and leave wet---I still can't get the timing right. We're always done a little early or-as we were today- late. 

        We were already running behind when L -with all of this tiny three year old voice -decided He Is The Boss Of Everybody while standing in line, only to be shouted down by a five year old with more experience. Her voice wasn't much bigger, but those two years of experience have given her practice toward a shrill tone that cuts through the air. She also knew he was full of shit and was mostly just holding space until an adult could arrive and stabelize the region. That's what we do. Proud of her.

        But that took an additional five minutes when we were already five minutes behind. Not just because M chose to wear a one piece dance dress over her swimsuit that she could not pull back on without adult help, but that didn't boost the time. Gratefully, parents were very gracious about our late pick up. 

        In addition, it was 95 freaking degrees and I've never seen preschoolers eat popcicles more slowly than they did today. It was hot, don't you want to gobble your popcicle?  

        C, the kid who caused his own injury by keeping other children out of the playhouse, did not return today. We are quietly hoping his FAFO moment resonated, and if he does return, he will be more amenable to sharing.

        This week has been very fighty. I think 90% of the kids are repeats from June, and they are either over it or more comfortable. Even the littles are grumpy. Greedy. Not in a space where sharing sounds like the right thing to do. They are, in fact, marching up to other children holding a pink hula hoop or a minion and wrestling it from them.

        Is it the heat?

        Is it because they're more comfortable?

        Is it because three weeks in June was fun, but now they want to stay home?

        I dunno, but I'm stuck for two and a half more weeks with this group, and today I used my "mom voice",which is more dangerous than my teacher voice. The kid stopped the behavior and looked at me. I said "That's right, buddy, you do not want to hear that tone again. Cease and desist." Because my vocabulary doesn't change at preschool, either. It's part of my charm.

        We don't have camp on Fridays, so tomorrow is my Friday.

        God Bless Us Every One.

        Scene.

(fb)60 Years Are Too Many: Pony School Day 1 July 2026

     6 July 12026

        First of all, a clerical error enrolled me in the Pony School 401k... for a summer job. I never received a warning email or word from the director--this didn't happen last year. So.

        I had to unearth the notice that they're processing in my trash email, but their help line and dashboard and AI Bot do not acknowledge the existence of my email address.

        Neat. So I've been on hold to talk to a person for ten minutes, which puts me in hold music and a friendly bot voice telling me I can access help much easier by going to their website, which also does not acknowledge my email address. Neat.

        In the meantime, I'm writing and waiting.

        Rough first day back. I'd say 90% of the kids are repeats from the June session, which in theory is great: they know the drill. The flipside is now they're comfortable, and are revealing themselves for Who They Are.

        Right out of the cannon, C revealed a hidden bossy bully we didn't see in June. He forcibly held the doors to the playhouse closed, refusing entry to other kids. He was asked three times to stop the behavior. The third time I stood a foot away from him and said "No. Stop. Leave the door open for friends."

        Two minutes later, he's screaming and crying in pain.        

        Because another kid who wanted in forced the pinned door open and smashed his finger. I just looked at him and said "Consequences are real, Buddy." I also got him a bandaid, I'm not cruel, just realistic.

        Also M, who turned five in June, is now too old and too cool for pony camp and is practicing her adult RBF. She's not acting out, or refusing to participate, she's just making sure we all know she's bored and soooooooo over this baby stuff.

        In addition, one kid apparently got a bladder infection after June camp because she won't use the kids' bathroom. I don't police who does and does not actually go, I just walk them through and make sure they wash their hands. Apparently she won't use it because there is no privacy. Good luck in school, kid. 

    So. Today grandma let us know, and now she will be allowed to use the adult restroom when she needs to go. Which is a single seater with a door, the size of a closet. It's separate and clearly "special for grown ups". Which is not going to cause any issues at all with the other girls.

       I'm not saying I have a better solution; I do not. I am saying that special treatment for any reason causes social issues. Everyone will want to use the adult bathroom, and all I have to argue with is "She's shy". At least when a kid has their special snack it's due to an allergy, and I can say "That's his snack from home, he can't have what we're having" and there's a tangible reason a four year old can grasp. "She's shy" is not going to work, friends. I can name three kids right now who will pipe up and say "I'm shy", and two others who will volunteer to go to the kid bathroom with her and guard the stall. Which warms my heart, actually.

        Ok, got a human after locating a phone number. Turns out I was unknowingly enrolled last summer,and disenrolling means being returned the money I put in last year as well as this pay period. There is no penalty for action on this 401k because I'm 60 which they consider "retirement age".

        Yet I was enrolled as an employee...so I'm working, but cool. I'll take the money back. It's an unexpected bonus, I just wanted to disenroll and get my money back from this paycheck. It's not a life changing amount, but July historically sucks for us financially and it will be a welcome perk. Or gratuity. I like that. I'm being tipped as a teacher.

        Because I want every penny, especially if the June repeat kiddos in July prove to be as challenging as they were today. Oof.

        Ok. Now I have to scrub the carpet downstairs where the dog pooped. My life is just one glamorous moment after another.

        Scene.

 

        

60 Years Are Too Many: Next Door Is Worse Than Facebook

 5 July 2026

        His Nextdoor post read "Nobody here gives a damn, but we're moving back to Tennessee. Colorado is boring. We were out yesterday hiking and biking and there was nobody around. I don't get this isolationism..." 

        I do not respond to people like this directly. "Nobody here gives a damn, we're moving" is an unnecessary post unless you're looking for a fight. I have no interest in fighting. He's leaving, why does it have to be A Whole Thing?

    Just move. Literally--nobody cares dude. Buh bye. Also, Dear, many of us are watching the fires burning around our state and are actively figuring out how we can help. Sorry you're bored.

        Now that I have that out of way, let me tell you a story about my neighbor-years ago- from Louisiana, and a current colleague who is also from Louisiana. I had the same conversation with each of them about fifteen years apart.

        They both struggled with the culture here. My neighbor chose to relentlessly charge up the street with food or a random gift, inviting herself in and talking nonstop. I felt invaded. I am socially ackward on a good day, and alarmingly passive when faced with this kind of behavior, which to me reads as bullying and to her read as friendly. 

    My colleague is laid back, and clearly lives and works in a completely different time zone than I do. His pacing would doom him in theatre, but he teaches film so it doesn't matter to me how fast he moves. He thinks the Louisiana school system is better at discipline than ours, and I have no choice but to nod because I've never worked there, only here. He also feels the same lack of what he believes is "community" and what I believe is "smothering" that he had back home.

        After a year of choosing which invitations to accept and understanding her mindset, and a year of listening to his tales of How Great Is Louisiana, I found myself having the same conversation with my colleage that I had with my neighbor fifteen years ago. I asked both first what it was about the south that was so different.

        "It's a southern thing" was essentially the answer both times. They want to talk to one another. They need to force other people to listen to their inner thoughts.There is a relentless expectation of engagement no matter what a person is talking about. They like to cook gumbo, gather for picnics and graduations and promotions and stop light installations, share their concerns, their racist pontifications (on both sides, as my colleague is Creole) and trauma. Mostly trauma. Largely trauma dumping. 

        I enjoyed my conversations with my colleague, and felt that it was definitely more two sided than those with my neighbor. He is, however, unequivocally home sick and I hope he returns to New Orleans so he can live his best life because he really hates it here.

        Their descriptions of their beloved "southern life" were both dripping with trauma. I argue that is not community, that's trauma bonding. Potato---potAHtoe. 

        It was then my turn. I am an OC-Original Coloradan. With the exception of a brief stint at the University of Houston, I've been here my whole life. I explained to them the Jeremiah Johnson philosophy, of which all OC are keenly acquainted.

        First, I had to explain to them who Jeremiah Johnson was. Apparently nobody south of us has seen the film, but they do know who Robert Redford was. So that's a start.

        I assumed that once the plot was explained, I would be able to just wait while the pieces clicked. Alas, they did not. Either time. 

        So all in all in conclusion to sum up: y'all screwed things up pretty nastily down there during the Civil War, and folks came out here so they could live their lives in peace.

        We don't need relentless carport gatherings and beauty parlor gossip sessions. We like to be alone. We are comfortable in our own company.  We don't want neighbors constantly in our yards yakking at us. Occasionally is perfect, but constant is too much. We like being alone.

        That's why we moved out here.

        We have a different community. We schlep horse trailers to help relocate livestock during fires. We offer spare rooms and couches to those displaced by fires, or stranded by snow storms. We shovel each other's driveways and rock one another's stuck cars out of snow banks. We bitch about drought regulations while following them.

        And then we go home and read a book and have a beer. We have community--it's just different than yours. We are also "isolationists" outside --as in outdoors-- enjoying the spectacular scenery. Two things can be true.

        There is no humidity here. There is fresh air, educated people, hikers, snowboarders, runners, skiers---notice how these are individual activites? We're progammed for "isolation" and we like it that way. It's what we signed up for. We're very happy.

        It's fair that you don't like it. Cool; don't move here. But to move here and then be a dick because you moved here and we aren't the south is a jerky thing to do. That's a you problem, friend, keep my state out of it.

        I know I won't like it there, so I don't move there. I stay here. 

        See how it works?

        I don't move there, attack the residents for Not Beiing Like I Am and then gather my Scattegories and stomp home. 

        That's the difference. That's it. Simple.

        I did not respond to your post with anger or even at all. I made a few statements and conclusions based on my own experiences in my own little blog that you would not like,and that's OK because it's not a public thread. That isn't an attack. "You're boring, we're moving" is an attack.

        That is another big difference friend. Instead of yelling back at you behind a keyboard,  I synthesized your post into my own experiences and drew a reasonable and personal conclusion.

        Bye Felicia.

        Safe Travels.