Dear Mrs. Fuller,

First- a couple of things to go over-
1) I have an appointment to (don't know if I will keep it or not) take Kayla to be evaluated for placement in a karate class. She needs something to harness her powers for good not evil. Do you question the decision to give her the ability to beat me up? I do.

2) I hate my job. It's like having a boyfriend that cheats on you, lives off of ya, wrecks your car and makes you feel bad, but- you are afraid of hurting his feelings because that, too, would make you feel bad so you stick with him. I am probably NOT going to be laid off. Why? because then my boss would actually have to come to- and stay at- work! I am so sorry for all my friends who have to listen to me bitch all the time while choosing not to actually do something about the problem. I think it's why I bought not one but two astrology books. So I can hide my head in things that are not real to make up for not doing anything about the things that are.

OK< on to business- I am on the run, on the lam, on the down lo, sneakin' out the back, Jack, from Kayla's case worker. It's THAT time. Yes, it's time- for the State of Michigan to re-evaluate and determine whether or not I should receive the 150.00 a month I get to house, feed and clothe her but more importantly whether or not they feel I should receive day care benefits for her, thus making it feasible for me to work and take home a small paycheck. Now, maybe just maybe I am a petulant, spoiled, ungrateful citizen but you have to understand that filling out forms with accurate information is not my strong point. I don't like to do it- it's yucky-FOR GOD"S SAKE- I AM AN ARTIST! Or at least I am trying to be, but for sure, I have mastered the flighty, unreliable, part of being an artist.

You also have to understand that for the most part- I am a trooper. All the things I rant and rave about on my blog are true and have happened. Every day, day after day, I get up and wrestle my way through the morning. Every night I go to bed with self- recriminations echoing in my head about how I could have handled the day better. Intent to do better weaves it's way in and out of my crazy dreams, along with all my other to do lists that manifest themselves. The other thing you have to remember is "HEY! I didn't sign up for this!" Not my kid! Not an easy kid! But I do it. I do it because, I love her and I don't want her in the system. It's the right thing to do and that's the thought I exhale on- it's the right thing, for her and me. But I don't do it gracefully.

So, I get a letter on a Thursday informing me of my meeting the following Monday. I'm like "umm, yeah, I don't care which government agency you're with, CIA, FBI, NRA- unless you are going to go to work in my stead, pick up from day care, shower, feed and wrestle my kids to bed- this ain't happenin'. It has nothing to do with you Mrs. Margie Fuller- it's just not possible, kinda like me climbin' the clouds to the moon isn't possible." And then I contemplate the piles of papers waiting for the day I feel attuned to the task of filing them after one of the hardest semesters of teaching I have ever had, in which I ditched the task of filing any piece of paper, realizing this has to be done- before I can even physically reach the documentation needed to fill out the forms.

Then I think of the last four years that I have gone to the appointments in which the case worker says- oh yeah, you're a guardian, no problem- we just have to see the paperwork. Then they stamp every side of the papers without looking at them and then we chit chat after which I go home, jump in the shower and delouse myself- yes folks, the Department of Human Services really is that creepy. I am not germaphobic, it would not serve me well to be so.

So, that following Monday I was getting ready to make the call to a one Mrs. Margie Fuller to explain to her that I would need at least two more weeks as this one was completely devoted to the situation currently at hand of my mother-in-law having a six hour surgery to remove a cancerous tumor. Bonus to me, but not Norma, that this was true. When...drama building... the phone rings. I choose not to answer it- it was before nine, before my second cup of coffee and fully into the onslaught of cramps.

It was the aforementioned Mrs. Margie Fuller explaining to my answering machine that she would have to cancel our appointment for later that day- but- she had an opening on Wednesday. This is important- she said Wednesday. I ran to the phone, barely remembering to pretend I had just entered the room to hear her on the machine, and started blubbering about how today was just awful for me as well- I only just got the letter late last week and could I have two weeks to prepare for the meeting. Well, no, she couldn't "give" me two weeks, that was too long but she had an opening on "WEDNESDAY" of this week. Well, no I can't do Wednesday- my mother in law is having surgery. She says- and I quote- "What time is her surgery?"

At this very moment my brain split in two- because as I was realizing I had mis-spoke and her surgery was actually on Thursday and realized also that I no longer sounded "truthful" as I stumbled over the words- I don't know- it's either Wednesday or Thursday and we'll know the time the night before" I was also realizing

THIS WOMAN HAD ASKED ME WHAT TIME THE SURGERY WAS -AS IF- in between the anesthesia and the recovery room I could just bebop down to her office to get the meeting out of the way!!!! THE UNMITIGATED GALL OF MRS. MARGIE FULLER! Well, of course I couldn't be at her office! I had to work that day and be available (by phone) for OTHER family members to give me updates. REALLY- MRS.FULLER- Who do you think you are dealing with?

So, we made a date for the following Monday and I figured I would find some way, some way, between visits to the hospital and showers for six year olds that I would get the filing done by then so I could find the information to fill out her forms. But here's the best part- Friday- I get a call from MS. Fuller- obviously going down a list- as there is no sign of recognition in her voice for the woman who's mother in law may or may not have been having a life threatening surgery- she has to reschedule as her office is being moved to another building the day of our (re)scheduled appointment.

So Mrs. Fuller- I want to know- what hours will you be moving your office????

Currently, I am enjoying a rousing game of phone tag with Mrs. Fuller and am still awaiting the cosmic forces to align themselves to create a day wherein I will feel compelled to file all that paper downstairs.....or be an artist- one of the two. Good Day, Mrs. Fuller.