We are going to be in Madison for a few days very soon. If any of my dear Madison peeps are going to be around and available, I’d love to see you. Please let me know!!!
a visit
anime boston
We’ve been at the Hynes Convention Center at the anime convention for almost three hours and it is finally worth it. The registration process was not friendly—multiple lines, down long hallways. It took a long time to get a print out of the schedule for the day. They say we should be using an app, but I cannot download the app, I wanted Julia to have a paper schedule to choose from, and after being turned down by a few “officials”, I ask at the accessibility desk and insist. Finally, someone admits that this is the first year they are not providing paper schedules. I insist again, like the mother bear that I am, and a paper schedule is put in our hands but by that time, I am pissed off and grumbling and deliver a lecture on what accessibility means. I’m not going to say it was not needed but I could have been nicer about it. Not a proud moment.
But now . . .
Julia is learning a dance in a k-pop dance workshop. In a ballroom with at least 75 (maybe 100) other young men and women, mostly women. Two women teach on a slightly raised stage. They are clear and good at breaking the dance down into manageable chunks and repeating. The actual singing group, Bebe performing Stay C, is projected on a large screen beside the two teachers. The dance is repeated at 50% and 75% of the speed of the song over and over. The dancers learn small chunks and dance. Every few learned chunks, the teachers review by going over everything that has been learned.
wednesday
I’ve left breakfast dishes in the sink this morning. On purpose. If I was my mother I would have washed them as soon as Julia left for the day. If I was myself ten or 14 years ago, I would have washed them as Julia got into the van. Back then, I needed to control something and washing dishes was a doable task. An easy success. And I needed success.
Now, I am willing to let them slide. To let them wait until . . . . until later. I will wash before I go to bed tonight. So, okay, I still have some need of control.
Instead of washing, I poured a glass of clean water, taped off a page of my sketchbook and spritzed the water colors. I am trying to paint. I am painting. I cannot seem to sit in meditation these days. I wander, I obsess, I plan. I slip too easily into past and future. I bring my mind back time after time, but I am not patient with myself, with the practice that I’ve had for years.
another mother’s day
I brought my laptop to Julia’s year end recital at Berklee. Berklee Institute for Accessible Arts Education. I will not get much time to sit and type but I was pretty sure I would want to get it out as soon as I sat down. I do and we have some time until recitals begin.
This year the musical step taken is that Julia will play her cello without me sitting with her. This is the step forward after a few taken back. Back in Madison, when Julia was playing with Martha Vallon, she always played without someone sitting with her; however, when Julia emerged from Covid shutdown, she was not willing to be on the stage alone, not willing to do her own counting or take full responsibility for what she was playing. I see some change now. It has been a long way back.
hands off rally
[Just in case an FYI is needed: Boston held one of the estimated 1,200 “Hands Off!” protests around the United States on Saturday protesting the actions and policies of Trump and Musk.]
It is 4 pm, ukelele ensemble time at Berklee, and we made it!
We left home just after nine this morning to get downtown and a hoped-for parking space near the Berklee building on Fenway. We scored that parking space and left instruments in the locked car. Then we walked to Boston Common, grabbing breakfast at the Eatery before we made our way to the Embrace Memorial to meet our FUUSN group. When we got there, the crowd was crazy big and I had no idea of how we would find them. The memorial seemed to be the place that everyone, just everyone decided to meet. Thank goodness, for a very tall friend! It was good to find a pod of friends to walk with.
ssi
Just in case someone imagines that the most vulnerable will not be harmed by this republican administration, this morning’s message from a Massachusetts housing advocate:
“If your family member is on SSI, log in (if you are their rep payee), or have them log in, to the Social Security portal. Many people are reporting that the portal is now listing their family member as ‘not receiving payments.’ This happened to me last night.”
SSI provides monthly payments to people with disabilities and older adults who have little or no income or resources. SSI pays benefits a month behind, so people receiving checks today for February. The new notice of ‘not receiving payments’ will effect the payment on May 1. Families have a month to scramble and figure out what is happening.
I did a quick google search of major news outlets and no one, not one left or right is reporting anything.
A Few hours later, this came in from the Arc of Massachusetts:
| Dear Members of The Arc Community, Last night, The Arc of Massachusetts learned that there is a new, concerning message appearing on Social Security accounts that are managed by a representative payee (rep payee). We have seen dozens of reports of individuals logging on to the Social Security Administration (SSA) website to the following notification: “This beneficiary is currently not receiving payments.” We understand this is an area of incredible concern for individuals and families in our community. As such, we are communicating with our Massachusetts congressional delegation and leadership at The Arc of the United States in order to determine answers as to what is occurring here. If you are experiencing this issue, or any other federal-related problem, please fill out our Community Check-In Survey so that we can keep track of these issues as they arise. Stay tuned for more information as we monitor this situation. |
truth and grace
I’ve been composing something in my head—about how Julia new placemet is going and how home is going and generally, although somewhat anxious about the world around us, I am feeling optimistic. I thought that it might be the entry which would kick off the end of the memoir that I’ve been working on off-and-on, although for the last few months it has been mostly off.
I hadn’t written this optimistic mostly-happily-ever-after post because I’ve been busy. Feeling better means catching up and keeping up. Tuesday night, I congratulated myself on getting my tax stuff together to give to the accountant. Slowly, I’ve been feeling rather good and almost organized enough to do for myself.
But you know, the shoes always drop. I’ve been waiting for them.
Monday night, Julia had an extremely runny nose. She had been coughing some a few days before. I gave her some decongestant Monday evening and she went to bed early. When I woke her up Tuesday morning, she didn’t want to get up. A different kind of not wanting to wake up than usual. And so, I told her to go back to sleep and I called her van ride and her program. John, the program director, said she seemed off on Monday and asked if anything was wrong. He said she asked for quiet space. When I asked her about it later, she said she was not feeling that well on Monday.
She slept all of Tuesday, waking only when I asked about food. She ate a late breakfast and an early supper, and after each she went back to bed and sleep. When she woke up Wednesday morning, she seemed well and in a good mood. She got ready and got on the van without any difficulty.
friday status
Hard week for me and for Julia, but our challenges pale in comparison to what is being inflicted upon young people who our universities invited here to study and practice being Americans. Since law school, I have put a good deal of faith in our legal system, checks and balances, respect for the law, the ethics of judges. I don’t always agree, in fact, the republican packed Supreme Court disappoints me regularly; but I’ve believed in the process. That belief that is shattered daily. There is no way to keep up with the barage of awful news, but miss one day and life as I’ve always known it may turn completely upside down. No hyperbole at all.
This was not what I began to write but it is very hard not to follow rabbits down deep holes.
Today, I need to reset from the overwhelm of the week. I am privileged to be able to sit back and take stock and right myself. I am aware of that.
Morning painting after Julia was picked up, some writing, a quick vacuum of floors that have gotten very dirty in some unknown way, folding four, or is it five, loads of clothes (temporarily giving up on getting Julia to notice that an over full laundry basket is a good sign to wash clothes). I have reading for next week’s classes and writing that needs to be finished, but the sun is out, the gardens need cleaning and the sadnesses need airing before the day is finished.
What was personally challenging and hard for us, for me should follow soon.
micro-climates
“A microclimate is a local set of atmospheric conditions that differ from those in the surrounding areas, often slightly but sometimes substantially.” ~some website
I’ve never noticed that I had one in any garden I’ve made. My neighbor, Maria, had one. Along the side of her house that faced my side door in Madison, daffodils bloomed at least a week before the rest of the neighborhood or my front or back gardens. The thing about her microclimate was that she did nothing to it. I mean, the bulbs were planted and the bed cleaned and tended, but no special watering or fertilizing went on. Those daffodils just returned year after year a week or so earlier than any others. And I was able to step outside of my side door in the early spring and be greeted by their absolute glorious yellow-ness.
And I’d like to report that I may have my own microclimate right by the stairs off my back porch. I noticed it last week. This is my third spring in this house–during the first one, I was still unpacking, last year, it was the front garden bed that I paid most attention to, this spring, I have the eyes for smaller things.
hope is a thing with feathers
Thursday morning somewhere around 10 am, I was at the Discovery Museum with Cheshire and the boys when Cheshire received a phone call from The Price Center. The director of Julia’s program was looking for me. Cheshire handed her phone to me, I verified that he had the wrong phone number for me—one digit off—and then we got down to the content of the call.
I braced myself. Out of habit. In my experience, calls from directors are rarely good news. Some behavior, some serious concern, or in the worst situation: “You need to come pick your daughter up immediately.” When Julia was in school, there might be an occasional call about not-so-bad news, but generally and since kindergarten, calls from the institution are not good news.
Thursday was different.
Chasing Joy 