a year in the life

Aunt Becky, without intending to do so (but did anyway), threw down the gauntlet. I hadn't planned on doing the year in review meme thing until tomorrow, but I'm almost humming with excitement at the thought of getting another post in before the year ends tonight. If you take a little gander at the previous posts column, you'll see that I started out last year in a ridiculously overrated overachieving mode with regards to posting. And then I stopped. The latter half of the year was lucky to see five posts a month, but December (for whatever reason) helped me get my groove back. So I'm doing the year in review now since this is the end of the year, and tomorrow is brand spanking new.

You can see last year's here.

1. What did you do in 2008 that you’d never done before? Got the boobies squeezed by a professional.
2. Did you keep your New Year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year? No. No, probably not. I did resolve to read more last year and since I did read, I guess that counts. Right?
3. Did anyone close to you give birth? Yes, many.
4. Did anyone close to you die? No.
5. What would you like to have in 2008 that you lacked in 2008? socks without holes
6. What countries did you visit? see last year's response.
7. What date from 2008 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? December 14th ... the big 30.
8. What was your biggest achievement of the year? Getting back into my Before Kids jeans. Isn't that sad? Yes, I am that vain. Oh, yeah, and the Man ate a pea the other night.
9. What was your biggest failure? Not finding a benefactor. There was a minor drum related injury and I had visions of punitive damages dancing before my eyes, but it's better now.
10. Did you suffer illness or injury? I have a strange cyst-like thing on my toe from banging it on the vacuum cleaner, and I had strep. And the plague. Does that count?
11. What was the best thing you bought? An new addition to house the ferrets!
12. Whose behavior merited celebration? The boy's. I thought we'd never survive three, but we did. Four has been very kind thus far.
13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed? Really? Haven't you heard enough? A certain mother-figure. Or two.
14. Where did most of your money go? Down the stock market sieve.
15. What did you get really, really, really excited about? the completion of remodel hell
16. What song will always remind you of 2008? It's a New Day
17. Compared to this time last year, are you: i. happier or sadder? ii. thinner or fatter?Happier and thinner; totally unrelated (as it bears mentioning)
18. What do you wish you’d done more of? Played more
19. What do you wish you’d done less of? Worried less.
20. How will you be spending Christmas? In a delightful frenzy.
21. Did you fall in love in 2008? Yes, with satellite tv!
22. How many one-night stands? Real or imagined?
23. What was your favorite TV program? Seventeen Kids and Counting/John and Kate Plus 8; it's my new motto: If the Duggars can do, then, hell yes, so can I.
24. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year? Hate is a bit of a stretch, but how about slightly annoyed. In that case, yes.
25. What was the best book you read? I think the new David Sedaris book When You Find Yourself Engulfed in Flames because it's not the kind of book I normally read. And it was full of awesome.
26. What was your greatest musical discovery? Earplugs.
27. What did you want and get? Resolution.
28. What was your favorite film of this year? hahahahahha
29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you (optional)? 30! I'm still planning on the nose ring.
30. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? If I've said it once ... the benefactor. Anyone interested?
31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2008? Downsizing?
32. What kept you sane? Getting my uterine squatter yanked.
33. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? I love me some Billy Bob, I really do. Skank and all. And Jeff Goldblum.
34. What political issue stirred you the most? Again. Really?
35. Whom did you miss? Sofia.
36. Who was the best new person you met? All you folks!
37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2008: Breathe.
38. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year: "My love is like a gypsy rose, wild is the only way she grows"

Somehow, I'm missing two questions (probably even more than that if I were willing to investigate, but I'm not), and I've no clue where they went. Anyway.

This really was a good year; a good solid year. Not much drama; I think 2007 sucked it dry. I hope that 2008 is full of golden for each and everyone of us. Happy New Year, friends in the computer. I really do heart you.

all I really need to know

I'm much too spent to even begin a coherent post; plus, it would be evident that either a) someone else had hacked into my blog (and ... why?) or b) I'd thrown out all mental capacity along with the wrap and ribbon. So instead of humiliating myself with nonsensical babble, here are a few lessons I've learned over the holidays thus far:

• Tampons purchased in public restrooms are cheap! Who knew?! When I saw that they were a mere .25, I felt an overwhelming need to buy a stockpile. However (and this is a significant HOWEVER), after learning that said tampon was roughly the size of a rolling pin and the shape of a sawed-off shotgun, I decided this would not be a good idea. Please pack your personal items before you leave the house.
• Even if your child loves tomatoes more than life itself, do not let her eat her weight in them and not expect a warzone in her diaper the next morning. Bless the folks pressing the fish oil into the A&D tubes. Bless them each and every one.
• Drums for a four-year-old? Very, very bad. Ear plugs for mama? Very, very good.
• Though the sun might be shining, the passes soon to expire, and the holiday season winding down, do not think it wise to venture to an amusement park whereupon you will suffer a deep freeze that can only be the close sister to frostbite, park-goers who are so rude they almost feel like family, and a nauseating dizziness that can only be a result of being smooshed by a large man on a rapidly spinning scrambler (yeah. Scrambler.).

I hope your holidays are going well and you're feeling full and wonderful. See you in the new year!

the twelve

One Christmas-Before-Christmas Gathering which ended in un-joyously.
Two children who are vacillating between pure, unadulterated merriment and sheer madness in the wait for jolly St. Nick
Three hours before Christmas Gathering Number Two.
Four hours to bake 150 tiny cookies.
Five-piece drum set that Santa's elf has yet to assemble.
Six hours of sleep last night.
Seven days of vacation!
Eight tiny reindeer.
Nine bags of semi, milk, and white chocolate.
Ten grandchildren tearing paper and shrieking in concert.
Eleven thousand pieces in the plastic doll stroller gifted to Beans at Gathering Number One.
Twelve months until we are able to do this all over again.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to you and yours. May there be more joy than madness, more giving than receiving, and more love than you can shake a stick at.

big ben

Though sidelined by the Cold That Wouldn't Die and the insurance/hospital wrangle, with no further ado, I give you ... Basil (that's the British bah'sil because, yes, I'm a geek like that)!

"What? What's that?" you say. "A photo of your kitchen?" No, no, not that kind of Basil. Not in the spice jars. Look up. There, there on the microwave. A little closer. Yes. There you go.

Okay, stop your judging. He is an elf; eyeliner is perfectly acceptable in the under 12" set. His spiffy little posture? All elf, too, okay? This wee elfin wonder, in his small package, has magic dancing under his hat. I saw him in a store, read the premise, and that little glint (the crazy one, not the jolly one) returned to my eye as I pondered this elf's place in our - okay, my - holiday cheer. Oh, and cheer has it been!

So you get the elf and a book, name the elf, and read the story. The story goes that this tiny little messenger has come to live with us until Christmas. He flies back to the North Pole each night to report the children's behavior to jolly St. Nick, and he returns each morning before we wake where he lands in a new location. Not impressed, are you?

Naughty or nice suddenly becomes a bit more concrete when you see that glamorous mug staring back at you. One word of ill-will and the mention of Basil's beautiful name, and the Man becomes stock-still and reverent, the perfect boy. Basil arrived the day after Thanksgiving, and his presence has been much enjoyed by all (mainly me). Each morning the kids wake to see who can find Bottle (the Beans' version). Upon seeing him, we (I) know a day of well-behaved children is ahead.

There are but five days until Christmas.

Would it be terribly wrong to allow Basil to move in with us forever? Because the fear of his leaving is more than I bear to dwell upon right now.

healthcare

you wiley bastard! If not for the constant back and forth with hospitals and insurance companies, I would have had absolutely nothing with which to entertain myself this week! Sigh. Where to start? How about with that little medical hiccup back in October? You know the one? The one I doubted the necessity of (since the only other patient I know happened to referred for the exact same baseline). Against my better judgement (and more out of fear -- which I'm cynically counting on that the doctor knew), I went. All was well.

And that brings us to last week, when our insurance company sent a EOB stating that since we hadn't updated my coverage information, they would be denying payment. In fact, we HAD updated this information, and it was confirmed surprisingly quickly with the provider. The next step was to call the doctor's office and hospital and request they resubmit the claim. Which brings us to Wednesday when another EOB arrived in the mail (whatever happened to holiday cards?). This one, surprisingly, denied payment because it exceeded the maximum allowable amount for that procedure which was $790. Is it any surprise the uninsured don't receive screening tests when ONE mammogram rings in at $790 - not including the $350 charges for "reading" those results?

So, E gets on the phone and plays chase all morning until finally hearing that, in fact, care was provided by an out-of-network provider. Whaaaa? Why, yes, come to think of it this is TRUE! The hospital was sold over the summer, due to massive financial losses, to a local Catholic healthcare system (which I only recall because the hospital no longer "offers" tubal ligations and, therefore, made the news). Prior to this, it was IN network. Stupid consumer for not paying enough attention to the goings-on in consumer healthcare.

It gets better. The insurance representative told E that if they approved the claim, it would only be approved for $200 and to call the hospital business office. He did, and the hospital representative's reply? "Done. Your bill will be adjusted to reflect $200. Sucker." (okay, I added that last part...).

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm glad I'm not paying $790, but come on. I had THREE separate phone calls PRIOR to this test to validate insurance coverage including one the day of the screening test. Do you think anyone happened to mention that this was now out-of-network? Yeah, NO.

Does this sound like a mighty game to you? Me, either; but apparently to the healthcare industry, it is. I'm trying to decide whether or not to write a letter to the old OB. First, I have no doubt that this was NOT in my best interest (the screening) given the financial situation at the hospital. Second, no one bothers pointing out that my insurance isn't accepted? Third, they bill for over three times the amount they would under insurance contract price -- until we disagree? Does this sound like a bit of thievery to you?

The only, only reason I haven't written that letter? Because I have been on the other side of looking for a diagnosis and being denied screening. Remember that little blood clotting disorder that one doctor (one glorious, beloved doctor) happened to test for? Yeah, that one. The tests that three other doctors deemed unnecessary? I would never want to advocate against necessary screenings and test. I guess I'm having a hard time seeing the ethics in this situation, though. Alas, I suppose the rest of America is, too.

In the very least, it makes my decision to find a new doctor all the easier, I suppose.

tonic

So, when you're sick and you just can't be ... what do you do? Being sick in the head as well as sick in the body, I thought it would be magnificent to clean the house from top to bottom, washing bedsheets, scrubbing baseboards, detailing toilets with gnarled toothbrushes, spraying lysol like it was the breath of life itself. There was no doorknob left unturned, no dust particle left unmoved. With no shower, unsightly bedhead, and a delusional hysteria dancing all around, I admired my hard work with a glint in my eye. Just in time to see the boy dusting his hands of orange slice sugar crystals from his Christmas treat from the grandmother. All over the floor and in glorious dramatization. There were no words that could have stopped the snotty, teary mess that I dissolved into at that moment. Horrified, he begged to go take a nap. I thought that was quite honorable of him, put him and the sister to bed, and took a hot bath.

So since my methods of exorcising this hideousness are failing, what would you recommend? Aside from the leeches; I don't think I'm quite there yet. Yet. But do have some ready to Overnight, should the need arise.

mayday! mayday!

The Plague! The Plague! I have The Plague!

It is soooo not good.

It is only in the throes of sleeplessness, stuffiness, and overall wretchedness, that I fondly recall my former life as a teacher. Way back before the wee dictators took over all of civilization with their constant demands for food and attention (not to mention the angriest, most demanding dictator of all, the mullet Queen herself who still poops her pants), I was able to come home and drug myself to oblivion with most excellent medically-prescribed pain killers and sleep blissfully until my senses had been magically restored. Today? I'm praying to the Tylenol gods that they will, in the very least, keep me alive until the husband arrives home to entertain in the trenches. They are sleeping, and I am not since coherent consciousness IS the gold standard in childcare.

time

The day of which I have spoken (and which has caused me to cower in the corner in a near-catatonic state) is here. Today, I am thirty; three decades old. Good heavens. Though I talk the hype, I'm really not all that depressed about this new decade, just rather contemplative, I guess. It's not so much that I'm getting older, but that everyone else is also. That part of it makes me, not sad, but thoughtful, I guess. Anyway! No more gloom and woe! Today is my birthday! I've had birthday cookie, loud serenades from The Man, and the usually piss and vinegar (followed up by her trademark wet kisses) from the Beans. That alone makes this a happy, happy day. Dinner tonight and a jacuzzi bath with a good book? Well, that's just the icing on the cake (or cookie, as it were).

I've been meaning to do that 100 things about me thing that I've seen on several other blogs, but I was saving it for my 100th post, and that sort of already slipped down the tube, so why not now?

1. I was born in 1978.


2. I had a menagerie of pets as a kid that included dogs, cats, rabbits, fish, gerbils, and a featherless chicken. All indoors (though not at the same time). My poor mother.


3. With the exception of the cat and dog, they all died.


4. My grandmother used to wear hotpants and be a "barmaid;" her words, not mine.


5. Wonder Woman underoos was my uniform of choice.


6. I ate only peanut butter sandwiches for almost a decade.


7. My mother, in an attempt to save me from death by peanut butter, included many healthy toppings to my PB like PRUNES.


8. I tested positive for the TB germ in first grade, and now I have to have an x-ray to disprove TB.


9. I wore casts on both feet when I was seven-months-old to correct their alignment (Forrest Gump anyone? Shut UP!)


10. I hated my childhood neighbors, the Howells, because they were assholes. They still are.


11. I used to love climbing willow trees and catching caterpillars.


12. I also liked to tear worms in half and watch them crawl away (but not anymore, thankfully.)


13. I used to be a messy packrat. My drawers were filled with dirty clothes, wadded up tests from school, and crumbled makeup. Today, that may send me into a coma.


14. My sister and I still fight. Everyone always predicted we'd grow out of it, but no. Still going strong.


15. One time I knocked her off a chair causing her to require x-rays, and told my parents she fell. I only recently copped to the truth.


16. I used to hear my heart beating at night when trying to fall asleep and thought it meant I was going to croak.


17. I found out there was no Santa Clause in fifth grade when the telephone he left me caused me to go into hysterics because it wasn't the Baby Alive I really wanted.


18. I was a cheerleader in eighth grade. A cheerleader who couldn't backflip or split. I was quite useful, I'm sure.


19. I used Sun-In on my hair after my mother told me not to, and she refused to have it corrected when it started to grow out. It was a sight. As if seventh grade wasn't painful enough.


20. I cannot stand walking barefoot on any surface.


21. I hate pedicures.


22. I LOVE massages (by Damien, master of the massage, but I digress. No, Damien is not my husband, but we both - E and I - love him just the same.)!


23. I wanted to be a lawyer.


24. I ended up being an English teacher who really wanted to be an English professor, but it was more school than I wanted at the time.


25. I loathed teaching.


26. I really liked lesson planning, but was none too fond of the actual students.


27. No, I will not be going back to the classroom when the kids are older. Trust me, the world is better for it.


28. I've worn glasses since fourth grade, but now I wear contacts.


29. I've never broken a bone, but I really wanted a cast when I was kid (besides the foot ones. Shut up.).


30. My pediatrician's name was Dr. Raper. Seriously.


31. I have never liked fizzy drinks which saved me from ever getting hooked on soda.


32. I puked on a Denny's table our first morning in Disney World.


33. I had a Dukes of Hazzard big wheel.


34. I wanted to move to California. My sister wanted to live next to my parents. Now, she lives in CA and I'm next to my parents. Wheeee!


35. I am extremely nosy, and I love to snoop.


36. I took photos of my SIL's affair from our front porch, and they were used in my BIL's divorce procedings.


37. I like taking photos (though not of sil's having affairs).


38. I think Billy Bob Thornton is hot. And a skank.


39. I've never kissed a girl.


40. I have smoked cigarettes.


41. I never envisioned myself having kids.


42. I'd like to have five or six, but I can't/won't.


43. I love going to the gym.


44. I hate going to the gym.


45. I don't like summer squash because it reminds me of dead caterpillars.


46. I love dark chocolate.


47. I read Malcolm X when I was in the sixth grade.


48. Toni Morrison and Maya Angelou are two of my favorite authors.


49. I love Medieval literature.


50. Twelfth Night is my favorite work by Shakespeare.


51. I used to have dreams of marrying Davy Jones (from The Monkees).


52. In kindergarten, I was in love with a twin named Scott.


53. In first grade, Eddie Houser gave me his mother's diamond ring so we could be married.


54. She wanted it back.


55. I've never been in a fight at school, thank the lord.


56. I don't have any tattoos or piercings.


57. When I was a sophomore, the health teacher's adult daughter pierced my bellybutton with an earpiercing gun.


58. I broke my pinky toe on the balance beam in gymnastics.


59. I also used to take baton.


60. My parents owned a fruit and vegetable market, and I was a cashier as young as nine.


61. I ran over a mailbox when I first got my license. My sister and our dog were with me, and I left them to walk home.


62. The last concert I went to was Belleville Oufit. The one before that was ten years earlier, and it was REO Speedwagon and Foreigner.


63. I'd like to live in England.


64. I don't like hot weather.


65. I enjoy being snowed in.


66. I love wearing boots and scarves.


67. I don't like sweating.


68. I'm having a very hard time thinking of anything else.


69. I don't like movies. I haven't watched a movie in years.


70. I love biographies and documentaries.


71. I loved being pregnant in spite of the chaos.


72. I stuck myself in the belly with a needle every day for nine months, and I didn't mind it.


73. I wanted to stick my MIL in the belly with a needle, and I would've loved it.


74. I didn't like the MIL from the first time I met her.


75. I adore my FIL.


76. My first car was an '87 Mustang. My dad bought it from my grandmother's best friend from New Orleans.


77. The first car I bought was a Honda Civic.


78. I learned to ride a bike when I was eight-years-old.


79. I don't like riding bikes now because I have no balance.


80. My mother made me get my ears pierced when I was in second grade.


81. I haven't worn earrings since sixth grade.


82. I went on an eighth grade class trip to Disney World and made out with my boyfriend on the way back.


83. It was a good trip!


84. I love the smell of grapefruit and citrus.


85. I hate the smell of flowers.


86. I have one living grandparent.


87. She turned eighty in September.


88. I bought her a pair of UGGs for her birthday because she asked for them.


89. She had a crippled parakeet named Petey when I was little.


90. I hated that bird.


91. I was attacked by a mockingbird in college. It pulled out my hair.


92. I don't like birds. They remind me of dinosaurs.


93. I love a clean house, but I don't like cleaning; despite doing it everyday.


94. I can't believe I'm this old.


95. I don't like that all the women on commercials are my age. It makes me feel even older.


96. I've gone to church my whole life with the exception of a handful of years.


97. I loved MC Hammer. Note the use of the past tense.


98. I love clothes, but more for the colors and fabrics than the actual clothes.


99. I'd love to be an interior decorator. Or a secret, undercover, organizing agent.


100. I'm finished!

Now, I'm off to indulge in just one more piece of birthday cookie!

would you look at that?

Upon reading some of my friends' blogs (Lori and Jen), I realized I'm supposed to be doing a photo tag! Sometimes I can be quite the slacker. Take this tag, for instance. Umm, a little late there I think. And the photo that you're about to see? Probably not even printed yet, likely just sitting in a file waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Okay. Enough chat. Let's go see what the fourth file's fourth photo has to say for itself:

Okay, this is the Man's first outdoor concert - emphasis on the word outdoor. Because he was barely two, wiley, and rather not into bluegrass concerts. In fact, as I recall, he was pretty pissed because he wasn't bouncing himself senseless in the moonbounce at the time this photo was taken. As a side note, I was six weeks pregnant with the Beans, and it was 95 degrees that day. At the outdoor concert. With a two-year-old. Who wanted to bounce.

I think I'd like to see what Mumma Boo at Mumma Boo X 2, Lyndsey at Why I Failed Math, Kristen at Mighty Morphin Mama, and Alice at My Life in Germany have hiding in the nooks and crannies of their photo files. Let's see it, people. Fourth file, fourth photo with a description, and four more people.

with a side of neurosis, please

I was geared up to tell you about Basil (as in the british pronunciation, Bah-sil) today, and then it (okay, the boy child) got a little whacked out and weird. It began with members from a certain religious denomination who frequently recruits, saves, or whatever its newest converts by door-to-door visits. I know, I know, the baptists are all about this, too, but at least they usually bring a casserole or something, and we generally know them (by the way, that was my biggest fear during my hospital stay with the boy, that people from church would show up in my room with food and fellowship. I know. Issues some?). So we live out in the middle of nowhere, and there is no WAY in hell that I'm planning on opening the door for anyone unless he's wearing a UPS uniform. I was in the Man's room getting him up for the day (so, yes, this was the crack of dawn, just to make it more annoying), when I heard the doorbell. No one, NO ONE, ever rings our doorbell because the front yard is fenced and most people have the common sense to realize 1) if you are family, you know where to enter and 2) if you aren't family and are technically trespassing, you probably should just leave. But no. And did wonder bitch and her aging sidekick so much as bat an eye at these folks? Yeah, no.

So they continue to ring the bell, probably hoping I'd answer it so we could chat about my eternal soul at 8am, and I shushed the big boy and told him to keep it quiet because someone was at the door (while taking great delight in the fact that while they were looking through the open blinds into the living room, they got an eyeful of the Christmas tree so they could lavish more prayers or whatever upon my pagan soul). So they finally gave up, but not before the Man decided to flip the hell out because he thought they had taken that long country drive to come and collect HIM. I don't know why, and I don't ask, but he was clearly distraught (okay, going into hysterics because I told him we were "hiding from the people at the door"). He, finally, was able to compose himself.

We move through the morning and head out to the garage to get in the car.

When I notice that the entire corner from floor to ceiling is suddenly! puffy and bloated with pain curling off the wall which is clearly saturated with water. Knowing that my dearest husband was responsible for NOT taking care of the "we may have a leak" until it became "damn, would you look at that?!", I gave him a call on my cell as we were heading up the driveway. The Man, ever astute and nosey, heard the conversation and completely lost his shit.

"Is our wall rotting? Is our house falling down?! Where will we sleep?! On the ground?! Where will we LIVE? Can we find a house with no people in it so we can live there? Is Mr. Bill (the contractor) coming back?! OH, NO! Is he going to start ALL over? Why did DAD do this (that's right, young padawan, you are learning...)? Our house is rotting down!" [all while trying quite unsuccessfully with a trembling chin to hold back the flood of tears]

This went on for the duration of our cartrip both going and returning. He'd finally composed himself enough to be cajoled into taking a nap with promises of paintbrushes and spackle after dinner.

I've never been one to deny my own control isses.

I have tasted my medicine.

tomorrow can wait

Have you had the experience of someone telling you, after the fact, that they saw some lovely something or other and they wanted to get it for you, but then decided no. Maybe you're out shopping with someone and you remark on a scarf that you just love, and the person replies that they saw that scarf and started to get it for you but didn't? Okay. Well, that's this post in a nutshell. My camera's memory card is buzzing with soon-to-be written posts with photos and videos of things that have happened over the past couple of weeks, but I (being the terribly slovenly person I am) have been - and am - to lazy to download. And because the photos have to have actual words with them, I've done nothing. Because I'm lazy. Alas. They're coming, though, they are.

Today? Is the first day of December. Alpha and Omega. For me anyway. December 1978. Hotel California won a Grammy for Record of the Year, the Walkman (good lord) was introduced as the first PORTABLE stereo, and the US dollar plunges to a record low (apparently some things haven't changed all that much...). In exactly fourteen days, I'll be turning THIRTY. Cripes, that is shocking to actually type and proofread. I haven't been too concerned - with the turning thirty, that is - until just this very moment. I've also been gumming away about getting that absurd nose ring to commemorate this monumental day, and I suppose that's more of a "concern" than the actual birthday - having to run my nose through with a post.

To ease my sorrow at the changing of seasons in my life (cue woeful violin solo), the heavens sent snow today! Just! For! Me! The fattest, fluffiest, fastest melting flakes EVER. I think there was more snow today than we've seen in the past four years combined. This must be a good omen for future snowfall. Yes? Anyway, tomorrow, when I'm feeling a bit more energetic, there's a lovely little (emphasis on little) elfin man that I simply MUST tell you about: Basil. There's your teaser. Hush, now, Tafka, don't go blowing your stuff and telling the secret!