In my mind, this will be a short blog. The topic seems that cut and dried.

At first.

Then, on closer examination, the lines of my reasoning start to blur and shift.

Even without the benefit of an official autopsy, it seems most likely that Michael Jackson died as a result of his addiction to prescription medications.

Maybe I should wait until that official report is released before speculating on the cause of his demise. But it seems pretty clear to me based on the news reports. So I ponder the question.

I saw the movie The Hurt Locker today. It is a film about the war-torn Middle East. Fanatical bombers run rampant.

While watching the film, I started thinking to myself that ALL the people from the Middle East are misguided lunatics. Stereotypes and predictable assumptions about people of certain religious affiliations and geographical areas are easy for all of us to make.

Then my mind and heart was drawn to a man from Iran I met in the middle of the night somewhere in Florida. Really, I still have no idea where I was that night. Or why.

Very few things make me angrier than seeing an alcoholic/addict being treated with disrespect.

When I am the recipient of that treatment myself as an addict, I try to turn the incident into a learning experience for the unfortunate offender—all the while just wanting to smack the person across the room.

“Stay calm, Joani,” is my mantra. Few things can be taught in the heat of out-of-control, intense emotion. You run the risk of being written off as a lunatic with a severe attitude problem. So I stay calm as my blood boils over.

Today is one of those days that you know as a Mom with a son with autism will come.......but nothing can prepare you for the heartbreak of that moment.

It starts out simple enough. One of those gifts of March.....unseasonable warm day......spring will come!

All children on warm days run outside to play. Oh the excitement of summer to come is calling!

A little boy with autism, a precious second grader is no different.

My 7 year old son Max has autism.

His "diagnosis" persists in being difficult to completely comprehend. It sits at the edge of consciousness, reluctant to enter my mind and take a permanent seat.

An odd feeling, to know something and still not know. Denial continues.........I suspect.

Ellen Notbohm the author of the book, "Ten Things Every Child with Autism Wishes You knew," so accurately writes this fact, so reassuring to this Mom of a little blond haired blue eyed boy with this disorder............. " I am first and foremost a child. I have autism. I am not primarily autistic".

My good friend recently returned from rehab.........a really good rehab........a clear message of recovery as outlined in 1935 is taught there. A picture perfect setting, good food, laundry service, excellent therapists, spiritual advisors, beauty salon day on Thursdays..........a really good rehab!!!!!!!

I transported her to this rehab and I picked her up.

She is one, if not my best friend here at home. We met three years ago. I was asked to do a 12 step call on her by another woman in the program.

I did.

He was living at the Lighthouse Shelter for the homeless.

I had met him through the rooms of recovery. How he came to our community I am still not sure. We call him "Alaska Mike" because he moved here from Fairbanks. His demeanor is sweet and gentle inspite of his physically huge stature.

He takes his recovery seriously (sometimes) and his sponsor is a close friend of mine. I am still not sure if his affect is one of quiet intellegence or a dullness due to his history of excessive pot smoking. Either way he exudes trustfulness.

There is a line in the book The Kite Runner; “Perhaps ultimate redemption is when we turn guilt into good.”

As an addict and a mother, my sense of guilt is huge. My many attempts to help others may be in part an attempt to assuage some of that guilt. But will I ever repay my debt to my children?

I can barely imagine putting into words or print my many transgressions with my kids. Some are unspeakable in my mind.

To make a verbal amends to them at this point in time in their tender years would be inappropriate. So what is a mother to do?

Turn guilt into good.

I accept that I'm labeled as an addict and an alcoholic; I readily admit it several times a week. Yesterday, I was asked to speak to class at a local college about my experiences in recovery and how the Dr. Phil Show gave me a start. I was excited about the opportunity and agreed to speak to the class.

After agreeing to speak to the class I asked the instructor what's the title of the class. He told me, "The class is called Social Problems in America."