I had thought my recent case of poison ivy was painful until yesterday, when I got the doctor's bill.
Ouch.
It wasn't a bill, per se, but an explanation of benefits from the insurance company. I had paid my $40 copay and moved on. Yesterday I saw the real costs.
The medical portion is listed as $12: cheaper, actually, than I had anticipated, and well worth the price. I would say it's easily worth more than $12 to me. I am allergic to poison ivy and swell up like a blowfish. Last time I had it, I wasted about $100 trying this OTC cure and that one from the local drugstore, before finally giving up and going in for a cortizone shot. The shot gives me almost instant relief. It stops the spread of the rash, and within 2 or 3 days, the rash begins to dry up.
This time I did waste a day or two with Ivy Dry (momentary relief from the pain, then more intense pain within 5 minutes of application) and Caladryl (some pain relief but continued spread of the gross, oozy rash). Finally I surrendered and called the physician's office. Because I was a work-in, I asked for the nurse practitioner.
My paperwork from yesterday shows that we were charged $94 for the office visit. I waited 42 minutes in the waiting room, and waited 10 minutes in the exam room. She examined my arm for about 2 minutes, and left to get the shot for me. I heard her in another exam room, examining another patient while I waited 20 minutes for the shot.
It took about 2 minutes to expose my bum to her and receive the shot.
When I try to imagine how my doctor, who is a heck of a nice guy, would justify $100 for 5 minutes of attention, I guess he would attribute parts of it to the billing clerk who took my check, the nurse who weighed me, the lights, the walnut furniture, and so on.
I wish I were normal and could just use the Ivy Dry.
I caught the poison ivy from a bale of pine straw from Lowe's. I did wear gloves, but the rash began on my upper wrist, just beyond the rim of the glove.
I have one more bale still in the garden, waiting to be spread. DH has suggested I tuck long sleeves into the gloves and wrap duct tape around the edge of the gloves. Somewhere along the way, I lost my enthusiasm for the whole thing.
Tuesday, September 29
Monday, September 21
She Sat and LOOKED at the Cookie
A year or so ago, our 10-year-old dog began NOT responding when I called her in.
First thing every morning, I let her run out in the yard to peepee. In the fall, spring and summer, I stand on the porch. I water my flowers, bring in the paper, pull a weed.
In the winter, I stand in the LR and watch Little Dog through the window.
After she is finished relieving herself, she likes to wander the yard and smell the smells. We get a good bit of foot traffic here in the Avenues, and it's my understanding that everyone who walks down our sidewalk leaves a teensy business card of odor along the way. I can't smell it, but LD can.
But I have other things to accomplish in the early morning. I have to fix breakfast. Dress. Do my hair. Make coffee. Wind the clocks. Take my vitamin. Take LO to school.
So I call her in. A year ago, as I said, she started not coming. I would call. I would clap my hands. I would say her name peppy--I would say it loudly--I would call it sing-song. She hummed along, sniffing the grass or the sidewalk. Was she ignoring me? or had she lost her hearing? I determined to find out.
So I bought dog cookies. We weren't in the habit of giving her treats at the time, so I surveyed the offering at the store, and selected Bac'n Beggin' Strips. Flavored with cheese.
It wasn't her hearing.
Now when she finishes up, she runs to the door. Sits on the mat and waits for me. Smiles.
The funny thing is, she and the cats are demonstrating Learned Behavior.
When LD comes promptly, I tell her, "Good Girl!"
So now, she thinks, "good girl" means, cookie.
Of course, she knows, "Cookie" means, cookie.
When LD goes out in the morning, the cats cluster by the front door, waiting for her to finish up. As she comes in and runs to the kitchen, they run with her.
You see, some months ago, I felt badly for them. She gets a cookie. They did not.
So I bought Kitty Cookies.
Now, All God's Children get cookies after LD peepees.
They all run to the kitchen and prowl around beside the cupboard where I keep the cookies.
Little Dog has to sit as I get the cookies out. When I have one in my hand, I ask her to Sit Up.
She does.
Today, I dropped her cookie. She was sitting, waiting, as usual.
She remained sitting, and looked at the cookie. Then she looked at me. The cats stopped their circling and looked at me.
This isn't how we do it, they were thinking.
So of course, I petted her, held up the cookie, and gave it to her.
Good dog.
First thing every morning, I let her run out in the yard to peepee. In the fall, spring and summer, I stand on the porch. I water my flowers, bring in the paper, pull a weed.
In the winter, I stand in the LR and watch Little Dog through the window.
After she is finished relieving herself, she likes to wander the yard and smell the smells. We get a good bit of foot traffic here in the Avenues, and it's my understanding that everyone who walks down our sidewalk leaves a teensy business card of odor along the way. I can't smell it, but LD can.
But I have other things to accomplish in the early morning. I have to fix breakfast. Dress. Do my hair. Make coffee. Wind the clocks. Take my vitamin. Take LO to school.
So I call her in. A year ago, as I said, she started not coming. I would call. I would clap my hands. I would say her name peppy--I would say it loudly--I would call it sing-song. She hummed along, sniffing the grass or the sidewalk. Was she ignoring me? or had she lost her hearing? I determined to find out.
So I bought dog cookies. We weren't in the habit of giving her treats at the time, so I surveyed the offering at the store, and selected Bac'n Beggin' Strips. Flavored with cheese.
It wasn't her hearing.
Now when she finishes up, she runs to the door. Sits on the mat and waits for me. Smiles.
The funny thing is, she and the cats are demonstrating Learned Behavior.
When LD comes promptly, I tell her, "Good Girl!"
So now, she thinks, "good girl" means, cookie.
Of course, she knows, "Cookie" means, cookie.
When LD goes out in the morning, the cats cluster by the front door, waiting for her to finish up. As she comes in and runs to the kitchen, they run with her.
You see, some months ago, I felt badly for them. She gets a cookie. They did not.
So I bought Kitty Cookies.
Now, All God's Children get cookies after LD peepees.
They all run to the kitchen and prowl around beside the cupboard where I keep the cookies.
Little Dog has to sit as I get the cookies out. When I have one in my hand, I ask her to Sit Up.
She does.
Today, I dropped her cookie. She was sitting, waiting, as usual.
She remained sitting, and looked at the cookie. Then she looked at me. The cats stopped their circling and looked at me.
This isn't how we do it, they were thinking.
So of course, I petted her, held up the cookie, and gave it to her.
Good dog.
Thursday, September 17
Girlfriends
The three of us got together last night for the first time in forever. Ever since one of us moved to a larger city 40 miles away, it's been a struggle to maintain our gf time.
The two of us who remain in town have continued to support each other with irregular but consistent get-togethers: wine after the kids are in bed, coffee in the morning.
My gf here in town sadly lost her stepdad on Sunday. I called gf #3 to let her know. She came to town last night for the visitation, mostly to support our friend. At the funeral home, I offered to take her little girls home for reading and getting ready for bed; they had been there for an hour already. More than an hour at a funeral home is hard for anyone -- especially children.
So I whisked the little girls back to their house and the other 2 gf's came in by 8:30. We talked and laughed into the night: commiserating about the loss, hearing about a new job, and reviewing details about my campaign.
I came home a happy woman, thankful again for the gift of girlfriends.
The two of us who remain in town have continued to support each other with irregular but consistent get-togethers: wine after the kids are in bed, coffee in the morning.
My gf here in town sadly lost her stepdad on Sunday. I called gf #3 to let her know. She came to town last night for the visitation, mostly to support our friend. At the funeral home, I offered to take her little girls home for reading and getting ready for bed; they had been there for an hour already. More than an hour at a funeral home is hard for anyone -- especially children.
So I whisked the little girls back to their house and the other 2 gf's came in by 8:30. We talked and laughed into the night: commiserating about the loss, hearing about a new job, and reviewing details about my campaign.
I came home a happy woman, thankful again for the gift of girlfriends.
Wednesday, September 16
Running for Office with a Teenager in the House
At first, I thought LO would be all gung-ho, helping me on the campaign.
When that didn't happen, I thought she would be all embarrassed. Why can't you be like other parents, and all that.
When that didn't happen, either, I realized you just can't predict this one. She's her own person, and that's that. I just accept whatever the MOD (mood of the day) is, and roll on.
So I was somewhat surprised, and more than a little pleased, last night at PTA when we saw a not-too-close neighbor.
"My Nana's running for City Council," LO said. "And she would appreciate your vote."
Afterwards, she saw me staring at her with my mouth gaping just a teeny bit.
"What?" she said. "You forgot to say it."
When that didn't happen, I thought she would be all embarrassed. Why can't you be like other parents, and all that.
When that didn't happen, either, I realized you just can't predict this one. She's her own person, and that's that. I just accept whatever the MOD (mood of the day) is, and roll on.
So I was somewhat surprised, and more than a little pleased, last night at PTA when we saw a not-too-close neighbor.
"My Nana's running for City Council," LO said. "And she would appreciate your vote."
Afterwards, she saw me staring at her with my mouth gaping just a teeny bit.
"What?" she said. "You forgot to say it."
Tuesday, September 15
Water
Every day this summer, since 31.May, I have emptied my small dehumidifier in the basement THREE times a day. Its capacity is 2.5 gallons.
So for 117 days, I've emptied 7.5 gallons a day; total: 877.5 gallons of water. Where does it all come from? ...and where does it go?
So for 117 days, I've emptied 7.5 gallons a day; total: 877.5 gallons of water. Where does it all come from? ...and where does it go?
Monday, September 14
Notes from the Laundry Room
It was years ago when I made the rule, "What the laundry lady finds, she keeps."
I had just washed a frog, and dried him, too, from a jeans pocket. Alas. He was dead.
I never mentioned him, until now. I made the rule so that everyone would worry about losing their money, and clean out their own pockets before throwing their clothing in the hamper. Maybe that way, they'd keep their frogs to themselves.
I never came across another frog, but I have washed lots of money. Hairbows, gummy worms, bubble gum, personal notes, matchbox cars, small dolls. DH is famous for leaving a Sharpie in the long, narrow pocket at the knee of his bib overalls. Last night I handed him an adjustable wrench and said, "Here. I washed it for you."
So when I found a $10 bill this morning, it was a great surprise. It's pretty likely that it was my own $10 to start with. But - just the chance that I scored an extra 10 from someone else, makes me smile.
I had just washed a frog, and dried him, too, from a jeans pocket. Alas. He was dead.
I never mentioned him, until now. I made the rule so that everyone would worry about losing their money, and clean out their own pockets before throwing their clothing in the hamper. Maybe that way, they'd keep their frogs to themselves.
I never came across another frog, but I have washed lots of money. Hairbows, gummy worms, bubble gum, personal notes, matchbox cars, small dolls. DH is famous for leaving a Sharpie in the long, narrow pocket at the knee of his bib overalls. Last night I handed him an adjustable wrench and said, "Here. I washed it for you."
So when I found a $10 bill this morning, it was a great surprise. It's pretty likely that it was my own $10 to start with. But - just the chance that I scored an extra 10 from someone else, makes me smile.
Saturday, September 12
A Simple Life
In a small house. Beans, and rice, and vegetables from the garden. A kitchen table beside a large window that overlooks the stream. A dog at my feet and a cat who comes in and goes out as if she were a person with a schedule.
Books, and music. Well-worn floors and a rug or two. A good fireplace. A good quilt.
No TV. And a black telephone that sits up high, with a heavy receiver and a coiled cord.
Books, and music. Well-worn floors and a rug or two. A good fireplace. A good quilt.
No TV. And a black telephone that sits up high, with a heavy receiver and a coiled cord.
Friday, September 11
Campaigning is HARD Work
The first meeting was at 7am and I have been on the go since!
Just got home for the day -- and have to sell tickets at the ball game @ 6pm. :)
But it's been an amazing day --
Planning Board committee first thing,
then zoomed to Fireman's Memorial,
then appointments for ads.
Lunch with a supporter,
followed by coffee with another (a former mayor); OOPS! coffeehouse was out of campaign cards!
then picked up materials at the printer,
dropped by office supply,
scooped up LO to have eyebrows done,
dropped off more campaign cards by coffeehouse,
then HOME sweet HOME!
Just got home for the day -- and have to sell tickets at the ball game @ 6pm. :)
But it's been an amazing day --
Planning Board committee first thing,
then zoomed to Fireman's Memorial,
then appointments for ads.
Lunch with a supporter,
followed by coffee with another (a former mayor); OOPS! coffeehouse was out of campaign cards!
then picked up materials at the printer,
dropped by office supply,
scooped up LO to have eyebrows done,
dropped off more campaign cards by coffeehouse,
then HOME sweet HOME!
Thursday, September 10
My Cat Walks on the Sidewalk
...but he walks right across my sleeping body as if I weren't even there.
Tuesday, September 8
Flintstones > Jetsons
DH and I sat on our newly-waxed porch this evening and discussed the movie we watched last night.
"Did you notice the parallels in their lives?" I asked.
Both embarked on food as a release. Both had adoring husbands. Both husbands suggested the Js' media: Paul suggested TV to Julia; Eric suggested blogging to Julie. Both Julie and Julia moaned, "They HATE me!" when faced with rejection. Both husbands listened rationally and explained what was actually happening.
Later I asked DH what his favorite cartoon was when he was a boy. The question was on a Facebook quiz and I wondered what his favorite was. He was unprepared to answer. "Hmm," he said. "I liked Tom & Jerry..."
Me, I was ready. First, when I was little, I loved Yogi Bear. As I got older, I really liked the Jetsons. At age 8 or 9, close to the end of my cartoon times, I liked The Archies. Sang their songs all week at Girl Scout camp that summer.
"Did you ever notice the parallels between the Flintstones and the Jetsons?" I asked. They were the same, just at opposite ends of history.
Yes, he said, but the Jetsons did not have neighbors like Barney and Betty. I like it when we have these sophisticated conversations!
"Did you notice the parallels in their lives?" I asked.
Both embarked on food as a release. Both had adoring husbands. Both husbands suggested the Js' media: Paul suggested TV to Julia; Eric suggested blogging to Julie. Both Julie and Julia moaned, "They HATE me!" when faced with rejection. Both husbands listened rationally and explained what was actually happening.
Later I asked DH what his favorite cartoon was when he was a boy. The question was on a Facebook quiz and I wondered what his favorite was. He was unprepared to answer. "Hmm," he said. "I liked Tom & Jerry..."
Me, I was ready. First, when I was little, I loved Yogi Bear. As I got older, I really liked the Jetsons. At age 8 or 9, close to the end of my cartoon times, I liked The Archies. Sang their songs all week at Girl Scout camp that summer.
"Did you ever notice the parallels between the Flintstones and the Jetsons?" I asked. They were the same, just at opposite ends of history.
Yes, he said, but the Jetsons did not have neighbors like Barney and Betty. I like it when we have these sophisticated conversations!
Weather= Mood
So it is a totally gray, still, day. Temp: 83. Humidity: 99%. Not kidding.
I checked the weather website before waxing the outside edge of the front porch this morning. It promised me the chance of rain is only 10% all day long. Yet, I doubt. I waxed on faith, but I doubt.
All of us are droopy. Cats, dog, me. I took my Energy Drink, outside on the lovely, waxed porch, even. Did 45 minutes on the treadmill. Woopee. Still droopy. I think even the birds are droopy; they have not sung all morning.
Oh. I think I'll go put a sign on the porch just in case the mailman comes early. I'd hate for him to slip and mail goes everywhere....
I checked the weather website before waxing the outside edge of the front porch this morning. It promised me the chance of rain is only 10% all day long. Yet, I doubt. I waxed on faith, but I doubt.
All of us are droopy. Cats, dog, me. I took my Energy Drink, outside on the lovely, waxed porch, even. Did 45 minutes on the treadmill. Woopee. Still droopy. I think even the birds are droopy; they have not sung all morning.
Oh. I think I'll go put a sign on the porch just in case the mailman comes early. I'd hate for him to slip and mail goes everywhere....
Monday, September 7
Julie & Julia
DH and I went to see this movie tonight. If you haven't seen it, I highly recommend it. IF you are a foodie, or a Julia buff, or a writer, or a woman. Or a guy who secretly loves Julia (as does my dear DH.) And who can't love some Nora Ephron? She is actually the only screenwriter/director/producer I pay attention to.
The movie (and the book) are about cooking. And aspirations. And BLOGGING. Which is why I am here.
I haven't blogged in so long, my website-filler-inner did not even fill in the words. It has never done that before.
So, yes, I am running for public office. And have a high-schooler who has extra activities every evening but Tuesday. And I'm terrifically busy. Running a campaign and vacuuming pounds of cat hair. Hey! This weekend I stripped and waxed the front porch. For two days. After campaigning AND working the homeless shelter. Whew.
But too busy to BLOG? I should be flogged.
Teensy little writing joke there.
I actually liked the movie, Julie & Julia better than the book, which I have almost never done! but I think it is because it offered insights into Julia's life as well. The movie was a melange of Julie Powell's book by the same name, and Julia Child's book, My Life in France.
So, after countless promises and commitments, to you, dear reader, and to myself, I pledge to blog. No matter how inane, how mundane, how insane, or profane. I. Will. Blog.
Til tomorrow.
The movie (and the book) are about cooking. And aspirations. And BLOGGING. Which is why I am here.
I haven't blogged in so long, my website-filler-inner did not even fill in the words. It has never done that before.
So, yes, I am running for public office. And have a high-schooler who has extra activities every evening but Tuesday. And I'm terrifically busy. Running a campaign and vacuuming pounds of cat hair. Hey! This weekend I stripped and waxed the front porch. For two days. After campaigning AND working the homeless shelter. Whew.
But too busy to BLOG? I should be flogged.
Teensy little writing joke there.
I actually liked the movie, Julie & Julia better than the book, which I have almost never done! but I think it is because it offered insights into Julia's life as well. The movie was a melange of Julie Powell's book by the same name, and Julia Child's book, My Life in France.
So, after countless promises and commitments, to you, dear reader, and to myself, I pledge to blog. No matter how inane, how mundane, how insane, or profane. I. Will. Blog.
Til tomorrow.
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