And Thoughts.
1. Normal people do not care nor worry about that (P) lame chick, and who exposed her or whatever the heck. Nobody cares. Seriously.
2. I am sick and tired of people who have nothing better to say than, "Bush is an idiot." That's all they say. Wow, great argument there bub. I'm impressed.
3. I hope Israel kicks the crap out of Hezbollah, and the rest of those ankle beating random civilian beheading swine. Pigs. You're not fit to eat after my dog.
4. People who complain about people who complain are hypocrites and usually the biggest complainers of all. Quit yer whining, pussies.
5. My mom's favorite foods to have are chili, soup and pie, she always has at least one of those on hand at all times. My poor dad.
6. Kim jong il.
7. Tired of people who hate America, but won't leave it.
8. France.
Saturday, July 15, 2006
Friday, July 14, 2006
Why?
Must I Suck So Bad?
Seriously. I can never find time to get on here and beat out something witty and smart. These days I spend my time sitting in my friend's hot tub talking about how much better looking Bush is than Kerry. My friend always starts it, she thinks it is funny to get me worked up. She usually starts with something like, "Oh I hope Hillary runs!" And It Is On.
We should be moving next week. I'm beside myself with joy about that idea. It's been too long, I repeat, It's been too long. The last two months I have pretty much woke up every day thinking, "what fresh hell is it today?" That's bad, and let me tell ya, it has been bad, and that's all I'm going to say on it. Just know that the last 8 months have been a sort of hell I wouldn't wish on anyone.
What's new? I think I'm psychic. Yep. Before we settled on this house, we thought about buying quite a nice house near my parents. We actually knew the peeps who used to live there. It was a husband and wife, he was American, retired military and she was a Korean lady he married years ago. My father in law used to be somewhat friends with him, but I heard the old guy was a pervert from a girl I know who his wife babysat years and years ago. Anyway, my husband said he remembered the old guy saying something pretty nasty to him when he was a young teen ager when they went on a fishing trip. Whatever it was, and I know what it was, but it's way too nasty to repeat made my hubby's dad so angry he said, "Get in the car, we're leaving." and they did.
So the old fart had one thing going for him, he took good care of his house, and his Korean lady took good care of him until she got sick with the brain tumor and passed away. She was actually a nice lady, and I often saw her squatting in their perfectly manicured front lawn picking at itty bitty tiny baby weeds before they ever had a chance to grow, or at least I imagined that's what she must have been doing squatting in the yard for so long and so often. He was not all that well when his lady died, he was on oxygen and was not in the greatest of health himself, never the less he did manage to find himself another Korean lady and make her his wife, which was good for her I guess since it cleared up some nasty tangle with immigration. She took over picking at the teeny tiny baby weeds, and my sister remarked one day that he went out and got himself a new Korean lady.
She must have taken good care of him because he left her everything, and that would be fitting since he didn't have any children anyway. So she lives in the house now, but it's for sale. My husband said, "get that house!" It is a nice house, and I thought seriously about getting it, but then I realized that the ironic thing would be that we would spend the next however many years looking out our front window everyday at his first girlfriend's mother's house. I didn't like the idea at all since I really don't want to be friends with her, or have her looking over and seeing me come home with groceries and stuff.
Plus, and I'm serious here, the house had bad energy to me. I thought long and hard because I knew the price was very good with the condition of the house, much nicer than a lot of the houses I've seen in that price range, but something just would not let me make the call even though I promised my husband I would. At first I protested and said, "no, a pervert lived there, I don't want to live in a pervert house, who knows what kind bad stuff lurks there." Hubby thought that was sort of silly, he was thinking purely of the business transaction and not the living in the house. Finally, I agreed to look into it, and make the call while he was away on the rig.
Then I had the dream, the scary one where I'm in the house, and the downstairs is definitely haunted. There was lots of bad stuff in there. I felt it very strongly. The dream was quite disturbing, but I still made the call. I left a message, the lady never called back. Daddy in law decided to sell, and thankfully hubby was interested. He forgot the creepy house. I didn't. I'm so glad the lady never called.
Oh but that is not all. One night I'm driving past the house and I see something strange in the immaculate yard. It's a coat. It's standing up, and in the dark it looks like a body coming out of the ground. It stands there, a lone apparition in the perfect green grass. At first I didn't know what it was, in day light I saw what it was. It still looks strange.
My brother noticed the thing as well. We pondered it for days. We asked everyone else, did you see the weird coat in the yard? Yes, they all had, they all found it odd and out of place. What was ever more bothersome was the thing moved around the yard, and frankly that really freaked me out, didn't the lady know it was there, who was moving it? Finally we decide one night we cannot take it any longer, we've got to walk by the house and see the thing close up, discover some meaning to it. We get the dog, we start our walk. As we approach the yard, Toby is walking along then he spots the inanimate object in the dark, it is crawling out of the ground. Toby stops, he stares, he takes a stance and growls at the coat. Toby backs away, and we continue on, not wanting to draw attention to our curiosity.
We discuss Toby's unusual reaction. We decide the thing freaked him out too. We walk on further and decide to turn around and go back by and see what Toby does a second time around. This time my brother lets go of the leash, we watch and the dog runs up to the thing, sniffs it, and just like that pees on the thing. We didn't mean for him to, but after that we both decide the thing isn't scary anymore, just odd and out of place. In the next day or so the coat was gone. I don't know what happened to it, or why it left after being there for a couple of weeks.
See, I knew there was something wrong with that house. That whole business with the coat was strange, and I knew all along things were not right with that house. The other day I was driving by with my daughter and her friend, and the little girl said, "that house is haunted," just out of the blue. She saw it too. The house is still for sale, the price is quite nice, I don't know why it is still sitting there. Yes, I'm quite aware of how flaky I sound.
I better get to bed. Night.
Seriously. I can never find time to get on here and beat out something witty and smart. These days I spend my time sitting in my friend's hot tub talking about how much better looking Bush is than Kerry. My friend always starts it, she thinks it is funny to get me worked up. She usually starts with something like, "Oh I hope Hillary runs!" And It Is On.
We should be moving next week. I'm beside myself with joy about that idea. It's been too long, I repeat, It's been too long. The last two months I have pretty much woke up every day thinking, "what fresh hell is it today?" That's bad, and let me tell ya, it has been bad, and that's all I'm going to say on it. Just know that the last 8 months have been a sort of hell I wouldn't wish on anyone.
What's new? I think I'm psychic. Yep. Before we settled on this house, we thought about buying quite a nice house near my parents. We actually knew the peeps who used to live there. It was a husband and wife, he was American, retired military and she was a Korean lady he married years ago. My father in law used to be somewhat friends with him, but I heard the old guy was a pervert from a girl I know who his wife babysat years and years ago. Anyway, my husband said he remembered the old guy saying something pretty nasty to him when he was a young teen ager when they went on a fishing trip. Whatever it was, and I know what it was, but it's way too nasty to repeat made my hubby's dad so angry he said, "Get in the car, we're leaving." and they did.
So the old fart had one thing going for him, he took good care of his house, and his Korean lady took good care of him until she got sick with the brain tumor and passed away. She was actually a nice lady, and I often saw her squatting in their perfectly manicured front lawn picking at itty bitty tiny baby weeds before they ever had a chance to grow, or at least I imagined that's what she must have been doing squatting in the yard for so long and so often. He was not all that well when his lady died, he was on oxygen and was not in the greatest of health himself, never the less he did manage to find himself another Korean lady and make her his wife, which was good for her I guess since it cleared up some nasty tangle with immigration. She took over picking at the teeny tiny baby weeds, and my sister remarked one day that he went out and got himself a new Korean lady.
She must have taken good care of him because he left her everything, and that would be fitting since he didn't have any children anyway. So she lives in the house now, but it's for sale. My husband said, "get that house!" It is a nice house, and I thought seriously about getting it, but then I realized that the ironic thing would be that we would spend the next however many years looking out our front window everyday at his first girlfriend's mother's house. I didn't like the idea at all since I really don't want to be friends with her, or have her looking over and seeing me come home with groceries and stuff.
Plus, and I'm serious here, the house had bad energy to me. I thought long and hard because I knew the price was very good with the condition of the house, much nicer than a lot of the houses I've seen in that price range, but something just would not let me make the call even though I promised my husband I would. At first I protested and said, "no, a pervert lived there, I don't want to live in a pervert house, who knows what kind bad stuff lurks there." Hubby thought that was sort of silly, he was thinking purely of the business transaction and not the living in the house. Finally, I agreed to look into it, and make the call while he was away on the rig.
Then I had the dream, the scary one where I'm in the house, and the downstairs is definitely haunted. There was lots of bad stuff in there. I felt it very strongly. The dream was quite disturbing, but I still made the call. I left a message, the lady never called back. Daddy in law decided to sell, and thankfully hubby was interested. He forgot the creepy house. I didn't. I'm so glad the lady never called.
Oh but that is not all. One night I'm driving past the house and I see something strange in the immaculate yard. It's a coat. It's standing up, and in the dark it looks like a body coming out of the ground. It stands there, a lone apparition in the perfect green grass. At first I didn't know what it was, in day light I saw what it was. It still looks strange.
My brother noticed the thing as well. We pondered it for days. We asked everyone else, did you see the weird coat in the yard? Yes, they all had, they all found it odd and out of place. What was ever more bothersome was the thing moved around the yard, and frankly that really freaked me out, didn't the lady know it was there, who was moving it? Finally we decide one night we cannot take it any longer, we've got to walk by the house and see the thing close up, discover some meaning to it. We get the dog, we start our walk. As we approach the yard, Toby is walking along then he spots the inanimate object in the dark, it is crawling out of the ground. Toby stops, he stares, he takes a stance and growls at the coat. Toby backs away, and we continue on, not wanting to draw attention to our curiosity.
We discuss Toby's unusual reaction. We decide the thing freaked him out too. We walk on further and decide to turn around and go back by and see what Toby does a second time around. This time my brother lets go of the leash, we watch and the dog runs up to the thing, sniffs it, and just like that pees on the thing. We didn't mean for him to, but after that we both decide the thing isn't scary anymore, just odd and out of place. In the next day or so the coat was gone. I don't know what happened to it, or why it left after being there for a couple of weeks.
See, I knew there was something wrong with that house. That whole business with the coat was strange, and I knew all along things were not right with that house. The other day I was driving by with my daughter and her friend, and the little girl said, "that house is haunted," just out of the blue. She saw it too. The house is still for sale, the price is quite nice, I don't know why it is still sitting there. Yes, I'm quite aware of how flaky I sound.
I better get to bed. Night.
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Have You Heard of the Freegans?
Eat A Bagel.
Recently my friend told me of the freegans, I admit I laughed my ass off when she did. I thought I knew some kooky people, but this is too much. Apparently she read in the newspaper a story of people who live solely off of the things that society throws away, for example, they hang around outside bagel shops and get free food when the bagels are thrown out, etc. Now everywhere we go it's "move it you friggin freegan," this, and "look at this frickin' freegan" that.
I remember as a small child the first time we came to this town on vacation just a year or so before we moved here, we stayed in a little cabin on the west side of town right near the mountain, and I almost embarrassed my parents to death and even risked them being attacked by hippies when I spotted one peeing in the middle of the street and screamed, "Mom! Look! A Hippy is peeing in the street!" It was from that moment on that I held a distrust for hippies, and have viewed them as sort of dirty and strange ever since.
Admittedly these freegans sound much the same to me. I don't trust people who eat other people's garbage. Call me snotty, but it's really only acceptable when one is doing it out of necessity, and with church pantries, and many other such food banks and soup kitchens available, well one must really be in a bad place to rummage through a dumpster for food.
And another thing, I don't trust people who think rubbing certain rocks on their pits is really going to keep them from stinking, but I've actually met people who think that it works. While I'm at it, I'm so freaking over Vegans. Go stuff a turkey with yourself you snotty assholes. I'm not giving up meat. Ever. Shut up about it, and how you "are a vegan for the "right" reasons, unlike those people who do it for religious reasons." Give me a break okay. These are the same people who think nothing of yanking a developing baby from the womb.
Okay, I admit, I am a bit of a freegan in that if I see a nice item on the side of the road with a sign that says, "FREE" on it, I will stop and give it a look see, and maybe even call my husband to come and help me load it up. I got a really nice desk that way, but I draw the line at eating garbage. That's just the thing it's not that it's so wrong to make use of stuff going to the trash, that I can actually respect in a way. It's just that people who usually spend their time doing so are the type to make a habit of rubbing rocks on their pits in lieu of deodorant as well.
Recently my friend told me of the freegans, I admit I laughed my ass off when she did. I thought I knew some kooky people, but this is too much. Apparently she read in the newspaper a story of people who live solely off of the things that society throws away, for example, they hang around outside bagel shops and get free food when the bagels are thrown out, etc. Now everywhere we go it's "move it you friggin freegan," this, and "look at this frickin' freegan" that.
I remember as a small child the first time we came to this town on vacation just a year or so before we moved here, we stayed in a little cabin on the west side of town right near the mountain, and I almost embarrassed my parents to death and even risked them being attacked by hippies when I spotted one peeing in the middle of the street and screamed, "Mom! Look! A Hippy is peeing in the street!" It was from that moment on that I held a distrust for hippies, and have viewed them as sort of dirty and strange ever since.
Admittedly these freegans sound much the same to me. I don't trust people who eat other people's garbage. Call me snotty, but it's really only acceptable when one is doing it out of necessity, and with church pantries, and many other such food banks and soup kitchens available, well one must really be in a bad place to rummage through a dumpster for food.
And another thing, I don't trust people who think rubbing certain rocks on their pits is really going to keep them from stinking, but I've actually met people who think that it works. While I'm at it, I'm so freaking over Vegans. Go stuff a turkey with yourself you snotty assholes. I'm not giving up meat. Ever. Shut up about it, and how you "are a vegan for the "right" reasons, unlike those people who do it for religious reasons." Give me a break okay. These are the same people who think nothing of yanking a developing baby from the womb.
Okay, I admit, I am a bit of a freegan in that if I see a nice item on the side of the road with a sign that says, "FREE" on it, I will stop and give it a look see, and maybe even call my husband to come and help me load it up. I got a really nice desk that way, but I draw the line at eating garbage. That's just the thing it's not that it's so wrong to make use of stuff going to the trash, that I can actually respect in a way. It's just that people who usually spend their time doing so are the type to make a habit of rubbing rocks on their pits in lieu of deodorant as well.
Friday, June 30, 2006
Things To Go
People To Do and Places To See.
Yah. I'll be back dudes. Whenever. Got a lot of stuff to do. Yah, I know, we're all busy, what makes me so special? Sure I know professional bloggers never miss a beat, they are always up with the chickens getting stuff done, but you know popularity has it's price, I'm sure instapundit guy doesn't just slack off whenever he feels like it. Since this site is decidedly not popular, I don't think those rules really apply to me so I'll be back when I darn well feel like it.
About a month ought to do it. By then we should be done signing our life away, moving all of our crap out of storage, putting it back in the house we lived in less than a year ago, and hopefully getting on with our lives quite well. That's some sort of wicked twist of fate or something. Sure buying a house we already lived in sort of takes the excitement out of it in a way, I mean it's sort of like, hey have a look around, oh wait, you've already been over here twenty different times and pretty much nothing has changed. Hey, it's our new house, we already lived in it, but it's new now because we don't pay $800 in rent anymore, now we pay $1150 to a mortgage. What the, are we dumb?
Oh did I tell you? The house we are buying is daddy in law's house, the one we rented from him, well he decided to sell it, and hubby and I decided to buy it. We liked living there, it was a cute little house. I forgot I deleted over a years worth of stuff when I killed the blog in a bout of bipolar disorder, somewhere in all that mess was the story of how daddy in law broke up with his darling German girlfriend who WE adored, and how he decided he wanted his house back, so we obliged and moved out. Now daddy in law is girlfriend less and wants nothing more than to sell his house, so we are going to buy it.
You know that show, what do you get for the money on HGTV? Well, here's what we got, you're going to shit. Now we looked around for months, well I did, hubby basically said "let me know when you narrow the freakin list down a bit, I hate shopping, and you know that." In our price range, 150k there are a lot of fixer uppers, we visited one in the $130k price range and it literally smelled funny, had about 5 different types of carpet in the span of 7 rooms, the siding was melted on the back of the house, and the house was obviously painted by a very sick woman with horrid taste in colors, styles and borders. It was awful, did I mention it smelled?
Then we found out dad in law was selling. Now his is a bit older house, built in the 70s. Here are the selling features of THE house, corner lot, brand spanking new furnace, newer water heater, roof replaced in 1999, fresh paint, newly remodeled bathroom/laundry room, new carpet downstairs, lovely brick patio, three bedroom, two bath tri-level. I just realized I missed my calling as a real estate agent.
The house is cute even if it is really small. It's built well, and has few things wrong with it. It needs some new gutters, or to at least have them fixed/patched. In this drought that's not too much of a big deal, we can do that. The cost is high, but we're not going to find anything better for the price. People are selling stinky houses with absolutely no up keep for 130. Anyway, we're buying it, we like the house, and we enjoyed living in it. We're lucky in a way, most people don't get to live in the house before they buy. We stayed right in our price range of 150, for you nosey peeps who are like, "just tell us how much dang it!"
With that said, I've got a lot of stuff to do in the next few weeks. I'm trying to get stuff ready to move, plus it's summer so we've been going swimming just about every night, and it has always been difficult for me to have time to get on the computer since we moved in with family. I'm just so grateful to my parents for putting up with us the last 8 months, they helped us immensely, even still I can't wait to get the hell out of here we all need our own space, and I'm positive that they can't wait either.
But let me tell you this, I've got such a rant stirring within me about freaking snotty old people. I'm fed up with them. Seriously, it's not enough that we have to fund your freakin retirement as you sit in your paid off houses which were actually affordable, no you have to get annoyed that there are children in the pool, how about showing some respect huh? These kids are going to be paying for your drugs, your monthly social security check, and then some, while you retire in your life of luxury in your paid off affordable house, and with the savings you had from not having to pay 50% or more of your income to taxes your WHOLE ENTIRE LIFE. Not to mention all they are going to pay for the rest of society's sponges. Let the kids swim in the pool without you scowling and throwing a tantrum. You owe them.
Yeah. I'll be back.
Yah. I'll be back dudes. Whenever. Got a lot of stuff to do. Yah, I know, we're all busy, what makes me so special? Sure I know professional bloggers never miss a beat, they are always up with the chickens getting stuff done, but you know popularity has it's price, I'm sure instapundit guy doesn't just slack off whenever he feels like it. Since this site is decidedly not popular, I don't think those rules really apply to me so I'll be back when I darn well feel like it.
About a month ought to do it. By then we should be done signing our life away, moving all of our crap out of storage, putting it back in the house we lived in less than a year ago, and hopefully getting on with our lives quite well. That's some sort of wicked twist of fate or something. Sure buying a house we already lived in sort of takes the excitement out of it in a way, I mean it's sort of like, hey have a look around, oh wait, you've already been over here twenty different times and pretty much nothing has changed. Hey, it's our new house, we already lived in it, but it's new now because we don't pay $800 in rent anymore, now we pay $1150 to a mortgage. What the, are we dumb?
Oh did I tell you? The house we are buying is daddy in law's house, the one we rented from him, well he decided to sell it, and hubby and I decided to buy it. We liked living there, it was a cute little house. I forgot I deleted over a years worth of stuff when I killed the blog in a bout of bipolar disorder, somewhere in all that mess was the story of how daddy in law broke up with his darling German girlfriend who WE adored, and how he decided he wanted his house back, so we obliged and moved out. Now daddy in law is girlfriend less and wants nothing more than to sell his house, so we are going to buy it.
You know that show, what do you get for the money on HGTV? Well, here's what we got, you're going to shit. Now we looked around for months, well I did, hubby basically said "let me know when you narrow the freakin list down a bit, I hate shopping, and you know that." In our price range, 150k there are a lot of fixer uppers, we visited one in the $130k price range and it literally smelled funny, had about 5 different types of carpet in the span of 7 rooms, the siding was melted on the back of the house, and the house was obviously painted by a very sick woman with horrid taste in colors, styles and borders. It was awful, did I mention it smelled?
Then we found out dad in law was selling. Now his is a bit older house, built in the 70s. Here are the selling features of THE house, corner lot, brand spanking new furnace, newer water heater, roof replaced in 1999, fresh paint, newly remodeled bathroom/laundry room, new carpet downstairs, lovely brick patio, three bedroom, two bath tri-level. I just realized I missed my calling as a real estate agent.
The house is cute even if it is really small. It's built well, and has few things wrong with it. It needs some new gutters, or to at least have them fixed/patched. In this drought that's not too much of a big deal, we can do that. The cost is high, but we're not going to find anything better for the price. People are selling stinky houses with absolutely no up keep for 130. Anyway, we're buying it, we like the house, and we enjoyed living in it. We're lucky in a way, most people don't get to live in the house before they buy. We stayed right in our price range of 150, for you nosey peeps who are like, "just tell us how much dang it!"
With that said, I've got a lot of stuff to do in the next few weeks. I'm trying to get stuff ready to move, plus it's summer so we've been going swimming just about every night, and it has always been difficult for me to have time to get on the computer since we moved in with family. I'm just so grateful to my parents for putting up with us the last 8 months, they helped us immensely, even still I can't wait to get the hell out of here we all need our own space, and I'm positive that they can't wait either.
But let me tell you this, I've got such a rant stirring within me about freaking snotty old people. I'm fed up with them. Seriously, it's not enough that we have to fund your freakin retirement as you sit in your paid off houses which were actually affordable, no you have to get annoyed that there are children in the pool, how about showing some respect huh? These kids are going to be paying for your drugs, your monthly social security check, and then some, while you retire in your life of luxury in your paid off affordable house, and with the savings you had from not having to pay 50% or more of your income to taxes your WHOLE ENTIRE LIFE. Not to mention all they are going to pay for the rest of society's sponges. Let the kids swim in the pool without you scowling and throwing a tantrum. You owe them.
Yeah. I'll be back.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Oh My Gosh
We're Off.
Okay, so in just a few short moments (when I get my butt of this computer) hubby and I are going to meet with a mortgage lady and hopefully after jumping through a series of hoops, and cutting through enormous amounts of red tape, we will--with all of our hair still intact--be getting a house within the next month or so. We actually already know which house, but I'll save that exciting detail for later. I know it's not really exciting to anyone anyway. Ironically, I think it might be more of an irony thing about the house, but I could be wrong. Yeah, I know, I did that.
I'll be back soon. Pray with good news.
Okay, so in just a few short moments (when I get my butt of this computer) hubby and I are going to meet with a mortgage lady and hopefully after jumping through a series of hoops, and cutting through enormous amounts of red tape, we will--with all of our hair still intact--be getting a house within the next month or so. We actually already know which house, but I'll save that exciting detail for later. I know it's not really exciting to anyone anyway. Ironically, I think it might be more of an irony thing about the house, but I could be wrong. Yeah, I know, I did that.
I'll be back soon. Pray with good news.
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
One Month
Smoke Free.
I know you insurance spammers who actually leave comments are happy for me. Thanks. Thanks for letting me know I've got the best blog on the web. I'm sorry to say I pretty much despise insurance companies, but at least you visit. I find it rather hilarious actually that my most frequent commenter is an insurance spammer. You would think that I would not even bother, but I am a glutton for embarrassing and humiliating myself. Sure, I still read bloggers who have come to their senses and delinked me. I don't blame certain people for removing the link to my site, I did feel a bit hurt about it, but I'm way too sensitive about things anyway.
I thought it would be fun to write a blog, make friends with people, climb some imaginary ladder of success and be well thought of by people who share the same values, but I was wrong. My motives and my intentions were narcissitic, and ego driven. Writing was one of my favorite tasks in school. I'm not all great at it or anything, but like singing, I enjoy doing it even though I don't necessarily have an aptitude for it. It brings me joy. That's why I'm still putting stuff out there. Other people inspired me to do this, but I continue to do it for me, and I'm thrilled if someone else is moved by anything written here, but other than leaving a comment, I have no way of knowing at all if that is the case.
I know there are a precious few people out there who link to this site, and I'm honestly thankful and happy for them. I do read my handful of favorites whenever I sit down at the computer. I know I should comment more and let them know I do enjoy their efforts, but I do send them happy vibes no matter what.
Well. There it is. I'm a kook.
I know you insurance spammers who actually leave comments are happy for me. Thanks. Thanks for letting me know I've got the best blog on the web. I'm sorry to say I pretty much despise insurance companies, but at least you visit. I find it rather hilarious actually that my most frequent commenter is an insurance spammer. You would think that I would not even bother, but I am a glutton for embarrassing and humiliating myself. Sure, I still read bloggers who have come to their senses and delinked me. I don't blame certain people for removing the link to my site, I did feel a bit hurt about it, but I'm way too sensitive about things anyway.
I thought it would be fun to write a blog, make friends with people, climb some imaginary ladder of success and be well thought of by people who share the same values, but I was wrong. My motives and my intentions were narcissitic, and ego driven. Writing was one of my favorite tasks in school. I'm not all great at it or anything, but like singing, I enjoy doing it even though I don't necessarily have an aptitude for it. It brings me joy. That's why I'm still putting stuff out there. Other people inspired me to do this, but I continue to do it for me, and I'm thrilled if someone else is moved by anything written here, but other than leaving a comment, I have no way of knowing at all if that is the case.
I know there are a precious few people out there who link to this site, and I'm honestly thankful and happy for them. I do read my handful of favorites whenever I sit down at the computer. I know I should comment more and let them know I do enjoy their efforts, but I do send them happy vibes no matter what.
Well. There it is. I'm a kook.
Monday, June 12, 2006
He's Not Bothered In The Least
The Trouble With Birds.
Well, they have brains the size of uncracked sunflower seeds, or at least I imagine so. For the third straight day in a row the birds in the backyard have worked themselves into quite a tizzy. Chasing and dive bombing my sweet dog, they've been making a big old ruckus all around us. I don't know what my dog has done to vex their ire, but they are really ticked at him. It has something to do with babies I guess.
Just a couple of days ago hubby found two dead baby birds in the yard, and one apparently had bite marks on it. Now, we are guessing the dog did not actually climb the tree to get a tasty bird mc nugget out of the spring nests, but that doesn't mean he didn't decide to gnaw the head off of the baby bird that mistakenly fell out of one. Hypocrites! Birds have been known to throw their own offspring right out of the nest, but oh let it happen on accident and somehow their little pea brains can retain a grudge, for at least 3 days so far as I can tell.
I got up bright and early this morning, took a shower, made coffee with the sole intention of sitting on the back porch dreaming of smoking a cigarette--I'm still a humongous quitter by the way, going on 3rd week as we speak--and drinking coffee, my only vice. But no. The dog came out with me, and from then on it was squawk this, squack that, and a bunch of silly birds making a pure nuisance out of themselves, making me wish I owned a pea shooter.
The dog did not seem phased the least little bit, in fact, he pretty much ignored them and carried on marking all of his favorite spots as I sat there sipping my coffee thinking, "oh sheesh, will you silly birds at least be quiet about your dive bombing!" They really hate that dog now.
Then I thought how much my mom hates birds. Now, I actually do like birds even if I shouldn't given my history with them but, I find them quite interesting and could see myself on some sort of bird watching expedition, something my mother would never do, and would only express distaste for. I guess I can't blame her, she was attacked by one afterall. She was just a 9 year old kid when that mean old chicken attacked her. It might have been a rooster, I'm not sure now the details are dodgy. Something about her copping a squat, and a chicken tearing after her. I don't know, but chickens are vile smelly mean birds who deserve to be eaten because they do taste so good.
Of course mom never forgave the chicken, and to this day holds a personal grudge against all birds. I do remember as a child watching her cut up a chicken, she seemed to pretty happy to dip the thing in flour and fry it up. I admit she didn't look at all resentful either when she did it. Even so, she does get very nervous around birds and would prefer they go away all together.
These birds are small, they don't even really make contact, "what could they do to really hurt me?" I wondered. Well, I don't know what my mom has been complaining about, at least she is not a walking target for the darn things. Oh yes, it's a big family joke, I get pooped on all the time by stupid birds. Haha! Look at the drippings in my hair! What are the odds really? Is it just me, or have I been at the unfortunate end of the bird's wrath more times then is fair? I can recall quite clearly at least 3 times I've been hit, and I mean hit. The gooey stuff running down my forehead, and a big clump of it in my hair.
I'd just be innocently playing outside as a child and the critters would poop on me, but the worst was right after we returned from being overseas for 3 years. Even as we flew over the Pacific ocean my husband and I had one restaurant on our minds. They make THE best Mongolian Beef and Sesame Chicken we've ever had, and that includes any we tried in actual Asia. It was the first place we intended to go, and we got all prettied up and headed out. As we got out of the car, we noticed a loud flock of birds making quite a lot of noise in the huge tree outside the restaurant, and sure enough, splat! Right in my hair.
It was one of those where my husband points and laughs, and then sees my face and stops immediately and looks concerned. Our plans would not be ruined. No. "This has happened too many times!'' I declared. "I'm not going to let these stupid birds stop me!" So, we went back to the car, found some tissue, wiped the pooh out of my hair as best we could, and I mean it was some sticky clumpy stuff. I finished the job in the bathroom, and we had our dinner. I may have looked like that chick in Something About Mary, but at least we got our Mongolian Beef. My family just thinks it's so funny that we went on in and ate despite the poop, they don't realize that 3 years was a long time without good American Chinese food.
These birds are really too much. As I sit typing this, they have swooped my cat sitting in the window just trying to enjoy some morning air. Swooped a cat! Now come on. Tell me these critters are smart huh? That's just not real bright. The cat's face read, "oh yeah, come a little closer baby!"
Well, they have brains the size of uncracked sunflower seeds, or at least I imagine so. For the third straight day in a row the birds in the backyard have worked themselves into quite a tizzy. Chasing and dive bombing my sweet dog, they've been making a big old ruckus all around us. I don't know what my dog has done to vex their ire, but they are really ticked at him. It has something to do with babies I guess.
Just a couple of days ago hubby found two dead baby birds in the yard, and one apparently had bite marks on it. Now, we are guessing the dog did not actually climb the tree to get a tasty bird mc nugget out of the spring nests, but that doesn't mean he didn't decide to gnaw the head off of the baby bird that mistakenly fell out of one. Hypocrites! Birds have been known to throw their own offspring right out of the nest, but oh let it happen on accident and somehow their little pea brains can retain a grudge, for at least 3 days so far as I can tell.
I got up bright and early this morning, took a shower, made coffee with the sole intention of sitting on the back porch dreaming of smoking a cigarette--I'm still a humongous quitter by the way, going on 3rd week as we speak--and drinking coffee, my only vice. But no. The dog came out with me, and from then on it was squawk this, squack that, and a bunch of silly birds making a pure nuisance out of themselves, making me wish I owned a pea shooter.
The dog did not seem phased the least little bit, in fact, he pretty much ignored them and carried on marking all of his favorite spots as I sat there sipping my coffee thinking, "oh sheesh, will you silly birds at least be quiet about your dive bombing!" They really hate that dog now.
Then I thought how much my mom hates birds. Now, I actually do like birds even if I shouldn't given my history with them but, I find them quite interesting and could see myself on some sort of bird watching expedition, something my mother would never do, and would only express distaste for. I guess I can't blame her, she was attacked by one afterall. She was just a 9 year old kid when that mean old chicken attacked her. It might have been a rooster, I'm not sure now the details are dodgy. Something about her copping a squat, and a chicken tearing after her. I don't know, but chickens are vile smelly mean birds who deserve to be eaten because they do taste so good.
Of course mom never forgave the chicken, and to this day holds a personal grudge against all birds. I do remember as a child watching her cut up a chicken, she seemed to pretty happy to dip the thing in flour and fry it up. I admit she didn't look at all resentful either when she did it. Even so, she does get very nervous around birds and would prefer they go away all together.
These birds are small, they don't even really make contact, "what could they do to really hurt me?" I wondered. Well, I don't know what my mom has been complaining about, at least she is not a walking target for the darn things. Oh yes, it's a big family joke, I get pooped on all the time by stupid birds. Haha! Look at the drippings in my hair! What are the odds really? Is it just me, or have I been at the unfortunate end of the bird's wrath more times then is fair? I can recall quite clearly at least 3 times I've been hit, and I mean hit. The gooey stuff running down my forehead, and a big clump of it in my hair.
I'd just be innocently playing outside as a child and the critters would poop on me, but the worst was right after we returned from being overseas for 3 years. Even as we flew over the Pacific ocean my husband and I had one restaurant on our minds. They make THE best Mongolian Beef and Sesame Chicken we've ever had, and that includes any we tried in actual Asia. It was the first place we intended to go, and we got all prettied up and headed out. As we got out of the car, we noticed a loud flock of birds making quite a lot of noise in the huge tree outside the restaurant, and sure enough, splat! Right in my hair.
It was one of those where my husband points and laughs, and then sees my face and stops immediately and looks concerned. Our plans would not be ruined. No. "This has happened too many times!'' I declared. "I'm not going to let these stupid birds stop me!" So, we went back to the car, found some tissue, wiped the pooh out of my hair as best we could, and I mean it was some sticky clumpy stuff. I finished the job in the bathroom, and we had our dinner. I may have looked like that chick in Something About Mary, but at least we got our Mongolian Beef. My family just thinks it's so funny that we went on in and ate despite the poop, they don't realize that 3 years was a long time without good American Chinese food.
These birds are really too much. As I sit typing this, they have swooped my cat sitting in the window just trying to enjoy some morning air. Swooped a cat! Now come on. Tell me these critters are smart huh? That's just not real bright. The cat's face read, "oh yeah, come a little closer baby!"
Monday, June 05, 2006
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
I Don't Even Know Who I Am
Blank.
I know what I'm not. I barely know what I am. Don't worry this isn't some sort of mid-life crisis made up drama here. I'm not going to run off somewhere just to figure it all out. It's just that I have smoked cigarettes since I was 15 years old, and now that I've quit smoking, I don't really know what to do with myself.
It's been a whirlwind of mood swings, emotional outbursts, and crying over spilt milk. I've been clumsy, confused, bored, and angry. I've also been proud, confident and strong. I've never felt more assured of my success before. I feel like I'm going to make it. It feels right, and I'm going with it. There are two times a day that I really want a cigarette, in the morning, and in the evening, other than that it's been pretty much a breeze aside from developing yet another new personality. Gosh I wish there was a pill for bad temperment. Oh heck, I tried to spell check that, but I've never been able to use the dern thing. I'm not sure if it's spelled right, and I'm on dial up here, so give me a break. It took five minutes just to load this page.
So It's been 8 days since I've took a puff. Now, I know that might not sound like a lot, but if you've ever quit smoking, well then you realize of course that at this point counting the days is all you can do, and each one helps get through the next one. Pretty soon I'm sure I'll be counting the weeks, and hopefully at some point I will just forget the whole thing ever happened.
Boy, I've never really been a non-smoker as an adult, I still don't quite know what to do with myself, all I know is now that I don't smoke, I don't want to do half the stuff I used to do. It's changed everything. My personality has changed as well. I think I must have used nicotine as a means to stifle myself. When a confrontation arised, I would just go smoke it off. Now, I have a hard time shutting up.
The hardest thing about it is the mood swings, but I don't even care about that. I thought about it yesterday as I left work, I thought, how am I going to get through this without getting in trouble at work for saying something I shouldn't, then I thought, I don't care. When I'm freakin' 60 and gasping for every bit of air that comes from my oxygen source, I'm not going to give a flying monkey turd what those people thought of me, I'm doing this for my life, and for my daughter, and for many other reasons. If those people can't take me being a bit more blunt, and a bit more moody, then they don't really care about me, or my life. Luckily, that has not been the case, although I realize that non-smokers are only so tolerant any way, and I have to make my best effort to behave.
All of this does not solve my problem of quite a lot of excess free time. I feel no need to watch t.v. since I can't smoke while I do it. I don't feel nearly as tired as I used to. I've been waking up pretty much every day before my alarm clock. I've been going to bed a lot earlier as well, mostly because I can't think of anything I'd really like to do at all. I've been eating like a big fat pig. Oh lord, that's what I should really be worried about. I'm predict a 25 pound weight gain. But even that I don't care about. I'll just be fatter, whoopty do. I am going to work on that later, right now the most important thing was getting off the sticks.
Maybe I'll get around to some exercise at some point, but I don't intend to make myself do it if my self does not want to do it. Right now my self is dealing with enough crap with the emotional land mines that keep popping up everywhere. I used to dread that part of quitting, this time I think I'll just deal with it.
I can't name all the things that have changed since I became the biggest quitter ever known to man. I can't do it. Mostly because it would be more boring than the rest of all this here. I'm sorry. I do consider myself a fairly boring person. I don't think I'm all that exciting to be around, I can't imagine what it must be like having to listen to me drone on about my self! One of the most boring topics I can think of. In the words of the great Jonathon Anton of Bravo's Blow Out, "I'm so over me."
I know what I'm not. I barely know what I am. Don't worry this isn't some sort of mid-life crisis made up drama here. I'm not going to run off somewhere just to figure it all out. It's just that I have smoked cigarettes since I was 15 years old, and now that I've quit smoking, I don't really know what to do with myself.
It's been a whirlwind of mood swings, emotional outbursts, and crying over spilt milk. I've been clumsy, confused, bored, and angry. I've also been proud, confident and strong. I've never felt more assured of my success before. I feel like I'm going to make it. It feels right, and I'm going with it. There are two times a day that I really want a cigarette, in the morning, and in the evening, other than that it's been pretty much a breeze aside from developing yet another new personality. Gosh I wish there was a pill for bad temperment. Oh heck, I tried to spell check that, but I've never been able to use the dern thing. I'm not sure if it's spelled right, and I'm on dial up here, so give me a break. It took five minutes just to load this page.
So It's been 8 days since I've took a puff. Now, I know that might not sound like a lot, but if you've ever quit smoking, well then you realize of course that at this point counting the days is all you can do, and each one helps get through the next one. Pretty soon I'm sure I'll be counting the weeks, and hopefully at some point I will just forget the whole thing ever happened.
Boy, I've never really been a non-smoker as an adult, I still don't quite know what to do with myself, all I know is now that I don't smoke, I don't want to do half the stuff I used to do. It's changed everything. My personality has changed as well. I think I must have used nicotine as a means to stifle myself. When a confrontation arised, I would just go smoke it off. Now, I have a hard time shutting up.
The hardest thing about it is the mood swings, but I don't even care about that. I thought about it yesterday as I left work, I thought, how am I going to get through this without getting in trouble at work for saying something I shouldn't, then I thought, I don't care. When I'm freakin' 60 and gasping for every bit of air that comes from my oxygen source, I'm not going to give a flying monkey turd what those people thought of me, I'm doing this for my life, and for my daughter, and for many other reasons. If those people can't take me being a bit more blunt, and a bit more moody, then they don't really care about me, or my life. Luckily, that has not been the case, although I realize that non-smokers are only so tolerant any way, and I have to make my best effort to behave.
All of this does not solve my problem of quite a lot of excess free time. I feel no need to watch t.v. since I can't smoke while I do it. I don't feel nearly as tired as I used to. I've been waking up pretty much every day before my alarm clock. I've been going to bed a lot earlier as well, mostly because I can't think of anything I'd really like to do at all. I've been eating like a big fat pig. Oh lord, that's what I should really be worried about. I'm predict a 25 pound weight gain. But even that I don't care about. I'll just be fatter, whoopty do. I am going to work on that later, right now the most important thing was getting off the sticks.
Maybe I'll get around to some exercise at some point, but I don't intend to make myself do it if my self does not want to do it. Right now my self is dealing with enough crap with the emotional land mines that keep popping up everywhere. I used to dread that part of quitting, this time I think I'll just deal with it.
I can't name all the things that have changed since I became the biggest quitter ever known to man. I can't do it. Mostly because it would be more boring than the rest of all this here. I'm sorry. I do consider myself a fairly boring person. I don't think I'm all that exciting to be around, I can't imagine what it must be like having to listen to me drone on about my self! One of the most boring topics I can think of. In the words of the great Jonathon Anton of Bravo's Blow Out, "I'm so over me."
Saturday, May 20, 2006
Ready For More?
Complaining.
Today was my friday, ironically my friday changes on a week by week basis because my days off are never the same these days, but anyway, today was the end of my stretch, and it was a long day. I got off easy as my work load dropped off this morning, then picked up this afternoon, so while everyone else was running around like the proverbial chicken without a head, I was not busy at all, we work independently of each other, so it's not like I could do their work for them, next time I might be the chicken. I was all prepped and prepared then my schedule changed, and I had some free time.
It was nice actually, I think I needed it. The last few days with the kiddo being sick I've sort of worn down with worry, and tonight I finally realized that I'm not feeling all that well myself right about now, so I sort of dragged through the afternoon at work wishing I was everywhere else but there. I mentioned to one of my co-workers that I would be quite happy when today was over, and that I didn't really feel like being there today. It was a moment of honesty, and I generally don't say stuff like that at work. Usually I'm just fine, but today was rough.
He sort of laughed in my face and said, "oh gosh, you're barely even here as it is!" Which is actually not true, I do spend 4 out of 7 days a week there, which is one day less than he does. So, I shot back with, "well, you can go part time too if you want. Believe me, we've given up stuff as a result of it, but it's well worth it if you ask me, even without the benefits." To which he replied, "I don't have any benefits as a full-timer." Which actually is not true, he get's paid days, and medical insurance if he wishes, and there are a few other benefits like a bigger paycheck as well, but I didn't feel the need to spell all of that out to him.
So, I said, "well, my kid has problems that need my attention, so I went part time so I can be available more for her." Then he said, "well my dog has problems, maybe I should go part time for him." Hmm, I do think I'm being egged on. I reply, "don't compare my kid to your dog. I think you're just jealous that I have more time off."
Perhaps realizing how he was coming across, he apologized and said, "I'm sorry, you're right, I am jealous, I wish I could be here less." I said, "well, you have a nice house don't you?" He affirmed, "yes, it's over 4000 square feet." I said, "well the house we will probably buy will be less than half that size, and it won't be in as nice an area as where you live, these are the things we give up, although I don't think me working one more day a week would make that big of a difference at this point, at least we're happy."
He then went on to say that he made really good money before he took this job and that is why he and his wife were able to buy such a nice house, plus I would add that they don't have any children, especially not children that get sick, but shit, he's in his 40s I can't help him if he hasn't figured this all out already. He certainly could not afford that house on our pay now. Plus, he bought his house several years ago, when house prices were much cheaper. Whatever, I'm not bitching about his 4000 square foot house, obviously, he would rather have one more day off a week.
This is not the first time I've been on the receiving end of a full-timer's jealousy. It's not like I go around rubbing it in, last thing I want to do is draw attention to the fact that I only work 4 days a week. Honestly, it is so worth it to me. Yes, I lose a little money, but it's nominal really. The taxes took a good portion of it anyway. I'm happy with my choices.
In some people's eyes we might not have a lot of "things" to show for our work, but you can't measure time with a dollar amount. You just can't. You can't place a dollar sign on happiness. My hubby is only home every other week, our 3 days together we do more, and spend more time together than we ever did when he was working that horrible 9-5 grind. I love it, and I love my life. He seems so much happier now. He's really proud of what he's accomplished, and so am I. From now on my standard response will be: "What? Are you just jealous?"
I do feel the resentment seething under the surface sometimes. Sometimes it's from the single mom's, who make comments like, "well, I didn't have a husband to help me out..." Sometimes it's from this one guy who's wife works full-time, and he loves to say, "why can't you? My wife does it." Umm, I'm glad I didn't have to run my infant into the day care center everyday thank you very much, and I'm not freakin apologizing for it.
Heh, I'm still happy. So, whatever.
Today was my friday, ironically my friday changes on a week by week basis because my days off are never the same these days, but anyway, today was the end of my stretch, and it was a long day. I got off easy as my work load dropped off this morning, then picked up this afternoon, so while everyone else was running around like the proverbial chicken without a head, I was not busy at all, we work independently of each other, so it's not like I could do their work for them, next time I might be the chicken. I was all prepped and prepared then my schedule changed, and I had some free time.
It was nice actually, I think I needed it. The last few days with the kiddo being sick I've sort of worn down with worry, and tonight I finally realized that I'm not feeling all that well myself right about now, so I sort of dragged through the afternoon at work wishing I was everywhere else but there. I mentioned to one of my co-workers that I would be quite happy when today was over, and that I didn't really feel like being there today. It was a moment of honesty, and I generally don't say stuff like that at work. Usually I'm just fine, but today was rough.
He sort of laughed in my face and said, "oh gosh, you're barely even here as it is!" Which is actually not true, I do spend 4 out of 7 days a week there, which is one day less than he does. So, I shot back with, "well, you can go part time too if you want. Believe me, we've given up stuff as a result of it, but it's well worth it if you ask me, even without the benefits." To which he replied, "I don't have any benefits as a full-timer." Which actually is not true, he get's paid days, and medical insurance if he wishes, and there are a few other benefits like a bigger paycheck as well, but I didn't feel the need to spell all of that out to him.
So, I said, "well, my kid has problems that need my attention, so I went part time so I can be available more for her." Then he said, "well my dog has problems, maybe I should go part time for him." Hmm, I do think I'm being egged on. I reply, "don't compare my kid to your dog. I think you're just jealous that I have more time off."
Perhaps realizing how he was coming across, he apologized and said, "I'm sorry, you're right, I am jealous, I wish I could be here less." I said, "well, you have a nice house don't you?" He affirmed, "yes, it's over 4000 square feet." I said, "well the house we will probably buy will be less than half that size, and it won't be in as nice an area as where you live, these are the things we give up, although I don't think me working one more day a week would make that big of a difference at this point, at least we're happy."
He then went on to say that he made really good money before he took this job and that is why he and his wife were able to buy such a nice house, plus I would add that they don't have any children, especially not children that get sick, but shit, he's in his 40s I can't help him if he hasn't figured this all out already. He certainly could not afford that house on our pay now. Plus, he bought his house several years ago, when house prices were much cheaper. Whatever, I'm not bitching about his 4000 square foot house, obviously, he would rather have one more day off a week.
This is not the first time I've been on the receiving end of a full-timer's jealousy. It's not like I go around rubbing it in, last thing I want to do is draw attention to the fact that I only work 4 days a week. Honestly, it is so worth it to me. Yes, I lose a little money, but it's nominal really. The taxes took a good portion of it anyway. I'm happy with my choices.
In some people's eyes we might not have a lot of "things" to show for our work, but you can't measure time with a dollar amount. You just can't. You can't place a dollar sign on happiness. My hubby is only home every other week, our 3 days together we do more, and spend more time together than we ever did when he was working that horrible 9-5 grind. I love it, and I love my life. He seems so much happier now. He's really proud of what he's accomplished, and so am I. From now on my standard response will be: "What? Are you just jealous?"
I do feel the resentment seething under the surface sometimes. Sometimes it's from the single mom's, who make comments like, "well, I didn't have a husband to help me out..." Sometimes it's from this one guy who's wife works full-time, and he loves to say, "why can't you? My wife does it." Umm, I'm glad I didn't have to run my infant into the day care center everyday thank you very much, and I'm not freakin apologizing for it.
Heh, I'm still happy. So, whatever.
My Little Plan
Is Not Working.
The little plan was simple, don't get sick for at least 4 months until hubby's new job provides medical insurance. It was wrong. We were wrong. It's not working. We had the strep throat a few weeks ago, and now we have the mystery rash. Friday night I took the youngster to the urgent care clinic. The strange rash that started the day before had progressed from what appeared to be an allergic reaction to something, to a bumpy rash covering her entire body.
It was not so long ago in my mind when my little baby was admitted into the hospital to receive 4 blood transfusions for an aplastic crisis that resulted from a very benign childhood illness a lot of people have never even heard of called 5th disease. The Parvo B19 virus is the culprit, and most kids are just fine, barely even affected by the bug, but not my kiddo, she already had an undiagnosed anemia which combined with the red blood cell attacking virus put her in the nasty position of having only about a 4th of the hemoglobin in her body necessary to function. It was scary beyond words having my baby be that sick, but once the donor's blood started pumping through her veins she perked up pretty fast.
Ever since I've been very cautious when it comes to strange rashes, or any illness that gets my mom senses in an uproar, I've seen what can happen. I panicked, and I made an appointment Friday night after work to have my kiddo seen. What the doctor said in the visit, which took a grand whopping total of 15 minutes, was the rash was caused by a virus, and she has a sinus infection. I had no idea her sinuses were even infected at all, but they were. He gave me a prescription for Omniflex, or something along that name, and we headed to the 24 hour Walgreen's store, where the very kind clerk informed me that the drug would cost $129.00! Being a polite sort, she was generous enough to call the doctor and ask if there was not something else that he would like to prescribe for the sinus infection since we were poor middle class Americans with no health insurance. He decided on good ole Augmentin, and we forked over $60.00 instead. A small price to pay all things considered.
And you know what else? I've found it's kind of embarrassing explaining to people why on earth as a 35 year old I wouldn't think ahead and have insurance. They sort of just look at you like "Oh, what a shame." Guess what, we're going to pay for it, and pay and pay and pay if things keep up. The doc wants us to pay a visit to the hemotologist, oh yeah right. Uh huh. Guess what, hemotologists generally do not have payment plans, and usually want cash up front for an office visit, which is all well and good, but the last time we saw the hemotologist we actually HAD insurance, and we still forked over $140.00! That was just a wee little co-pay you see. I can't imagine what it would cost without insurance.
Whoa, of course I realize there is no price on my kid's health. Yes, I'm watching her like a hawk right now, and I'm just crazy enough to head to the E.R. if things don't seem right. At this point, she's only been on the antibiotics for 24 hours so we will see how she is each day. One day at a time. So far I'm not real happy with the progress, she doesn't seem all that much better, and the rash is still presenting itself. The rash is supposedly from a virus, so it may just run its course and everything will be fine, at least I hope so.
It's been sort of tough, thank God my momma is here. Hubby is out of town this week so I'm pretty much on my own with it all, and it's been super busy at work, I couldn't even get the time off, of course if things were much worse, I would have had to insist that I be excused from work, but I hate doing that. I'm so lucky my employer is very kind and understanding, so if I had called in it probably would have been okay, but I managed to make it through without calling off.
I have the next few days off as luck would have it, so I can really watch her and also get her in somewhere if needed. I think we get health insurance in July or something. Oh and did I mention that my throat is starting to hurt? Oh well, that's life. As they say, "it could always be worse."
The little plan was simple, don't get sick for at least 4 months until hubby's new job provides medical insurance. It was wrong. We were wrong. It's not working. We had the strep throat a few weeks ago, and now we have the mystery rash. Friday night I took the youngster to the urgent care clinic. The strange rash that started the day before had progressed from what appeared to be an allergic reaction to something, to a bumpy rash covering her entire body.
It was not so long ago in my mind when my little baby was admitted into the hospital to receive 4 blood transfusions for an aplastic crisis that resulted from a very benign childhood illness a lot of people have never even heard of called 5th disease. The Parvo B19 virus is the culprit, and most kids are just fine, barely even affected by the bug, but not my kiddo, she already had an undiagnosed anemia which combined with the red blood cell attacking virus put her in the nasty position of having only about a 4th of the hemoglobin in her body necessary to function. It was scary beyond words having my baby be that sick, but once the donor's blood started pumping through her veins she perked up pretty fast.
Ever since I've been very cautious when it comes to strange rashes, or any illness that gets my mom senses in an uproar, I've seen what can happen. I panicked, and I made an appointment Friday night after work to have my kiddo seen. What the doctor said in the visit, which took a grand whopping total of 15 minutes, was the rash was caused by a virus, and she has a sinus infection. I had no idea her sinuses were even infected at all, but they were. He gave me a prescription for Omniflex, or something along that name, and we headed to the 24 hour Walgreen's store, where the very kind clerk informed me that the drug would cost $129.00! Being a polite sort, she was generous enough to call the doctor and ask if there was not something else that he would like to prescribe for the sinus infection since we were poor middle class Americans with no health insurance. He decided on good ole Augmentin, and we forked over $60.00 instead. A small price to pay all things considered.
And you know what else? I've found it's kind of embarrassing explaining to people why on earth as a 35 year old I wouldn't think ahead and have insurance. They sort of just look at you like "Oh, what a shame." Guess what, we're going to pay for it, and pay and pay and pay if things keep up. The doc wants us to pay a visit to the hemotologist, oh yeah right. Uh huh. Guess what, hemotologists generally do not have payment plans, and usually want cash up front for an office visit, which is all well and good, but the last time we saw the hemotologist we actually HAD insurance, and we still forked over $140.00! That was just a wee little co-pay you see. I can't imagine what it would cost without insurance.
Whoa, of course I realize there is no price on my kid's health. Yes, I'm watching her like a hawk right now, and I'm just crazy enough to head to the E.R. if things don't seem right. At this point, she's only been on the antibiotics for 24 hours so we will see how she is each day. One day at a time. So far I'm not real happy with the progress, she doesn't seem all that much better, and the rash is still presenting itself. The rash is supposedly from a virus, so it may just run its course and everything will be fine, at least I hope so.
It's been sort of tough, thank God my momma is here. Hubby is out of town this week so I'm pretty much on my own with it all, and it's been super busy at work, I couldn't even get the time off, of course if things were much worse, I would have had to insist that I be excused from work, but I hate doing that. I'm so lucky my employer is very kind and understanding, so if I had called in it probably would have been okay, but I managed to make it through without calling off.
I have the next few days off as luck would have it, so I can really watch her and also get her in somewhere if needed. I think we get health insurance in July or something. Oh and did I mention that my throat is starting to hurt? Oh well, that's life. As they say, "it could always be worse."
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
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