Just a few observations…

* You shovel your walk and dig out your car. You put the snow in the street. The plow pushes it back and buries your car. So you dig out your car. You put the snow in the street. The plow pushes…

*If your shovel broke on Saturday or Sunday, GO TO THE FUCKING HOME DEPOT AND BUY A NEW ONE TODAY!!  Don’t wait until Tuesday afternoon when the next storm starts. Oh, and while you’re there? GRAB A GODDAMNED BAG OF SALT!

*The snow comes and everyone runs out and buys up all the milk and bread. If you can’t drive down a street in your little freaking Prius, what makes you think that delivery trucks will be able to fit through? If the cashier says “We have no milk and bread.” Don’t ask if she is hiding some in the back for tomorrow’s shoppers. Yeah, she’s hiding it…..fuck head.

*If you park your car under a tree or other area in which it is possible that snow will fall on it, turn off your fucking car alarm. If it goes off at three in the morning again, you’d better not let it honk for an hour. If you do, I will pour water over your car doors and windows and your front steps.

*The roads are narrower due to the snow piles. They are narrower for everyone. This means MOVE THE FUCK OVER if you see another car coming. Your Hummer is an asshole’s behemoth. Don’t be so freaking selfish!

*Are you an exerciser? Are you a mom? Stay out of the street! Can you skip the shit for ONE DAY??  Slip on the ice while we are driving and you deserve to be run over. If you have to take the kids out in the stroller, don’t make them a party to your idiocy. I saw cars fishtailing. Who’s to say that one wouldn’t plow into that stroller with your beautiful twins in it?  You don’t know me, but you ruined my day just knowing you were responsible for those little angels.

[BIG INHALE]

 We now return you to your regular blog reading….

I hate the cold. I hate the grey. When it gets ready to snow, I feel it. It’s like someone is holding onto my knees or my elbows as I am moving around. Have you ever felt like that? It doesn’t hurt, but it is annoying as hell.

Once the snow starts, however, it is one of the most beautiful things in the world. The white covers the world and makes it look new…at least until the cars get to it.

When I was a kid, my mom didn’t drive. We’d walk everywhere. And of course, having four kids, we always needed milk and bread. She would wait until after dinner if possible so that dad was home to stay with the little ones. As the eldest, I went along as ‘company’.  No matter how much the others would cry to go along, mom would never allow them to go. It was our special time.

Bundled into my coat, with the scarf pulled up high on my face, I would feel like ‘hot shit’. I was going with mom! Kiss my ass, eat your hearts out! It was all about me! She would get a few dollars from dad and into the white we would go. I remember the magic of walking at night, how the snow made the neighborhood bright even where the streetlights didn’t reach.

I remember the joy I felt as my feet were the first to put prints into the snow. Since the snowplow had cleared the streets, we’d walk right down the middle of the street. It was my mom who taught me how to slide on the snow and ice. We would walk the four blocks to the store, sometimes taking a circuitous route. Now that I am an adult, I realize that this was mom’s escape from the house. She never took the younger ones with us, because they required more preparation, more attention, and they would tire easily. She claimed it was because I could carry a bag of groceries, but now, I know the truth.

We would talk about school, about what I wanted for Christmas, and after that, what I wanted for my birthday. She would ask about my friends or about the book I was reading. These memories blend into one another because this was ‘our time’  from the time I was five until I left home when I married. We went from discussing Christmas, to discussing college and boys. It was during one of these walks that I told her about my feelings for Hubs. That was the night she found out that he was out of high school already and she warned me of the dangers of  ‘construction workers’ who could possibly be after one thing….(I think she meant hamburgers)

As an adult myself, I haven’t given my kids these memories. We always lived with a store on the corner (the same on I walked to with mom) We were two doors away from the in-laws. If it was snowing, my kids wanted to play on the street with their friends or in the back yards with their cousins. Our memories of snow will be different, but I hope that they never forget the sound of Grandmom’s voice calling them for cocoa, the sound of the laughter they shared with family and friends, or the magic of the sparkles.*

*As you look at the nighttime snow, and you see the sparkles, look very closely. If you are lucky, you may get a glimpse of Santa’s workshop and the little elves at work. A sparkling snowflake is the only window to the North Pole…..or so my mommy told me….

Today, I have both of my parents, both of my brothers and my sister. I have aunts, uncles and a grandparent.  I have friends who call just to say hi, who send me a funny email, and who stop by for tea.

Today I am in no pain. I have no addictions. I can read, I can see, I can hear, and I can move. I have clothes on my back and shoes on my feet.

Today, I have heat in my house. I can look out my window and see trees and blue skies.

Today, I looked out my window and watched as a hawk hunted squirrels in my back yard. I watched in wonder as Nature unfolded before my eyes. I wasn’t disgusted or horrified. I simply watched what many will never see outside of their television sets.

Today, I am blessed.

And don’t forget to check out Finn, Ren, Robin and Bluepaintred.

First off…there was that deal with the beef and beer. (We are still in debate about that!)

Now, there is…..’besides’.

Here you can see his laundry beside the basement door. Why didn’t he just open the door and toss them down? He’s the first to say “Don’t bend, you’ll hurt your back.” or “Let Son2 get that clothes basket. It’s too heavy.” And yet, I have to bend to pick up his clothes when they could have been tossed easily.

Next, we have yet another example of ‘beside’.  Note the spoon rest.  Now look at the coffee spots.  And do you see the spoon…..beside the spoon rest? Now how did that happen?  “I don’t know….I just did it. Okay? You want me to wipe it up? Fine! I’ll wipe it up!” THAT’S NOT THE POINT! Why so close? Why not ON?  There is no answer that will not cause my head to explode.

And now, the one that makes me the craziest….beside the trash. See that bottle? It’s not there for recycling. (It is my job to gather that stuff up. No one EVER recycles here except for me so he can’t use that as his excuse.) Also notice the new bag in the trashcan. Normally, my family plays “As long as it is perched precariously without spilling, it is technically in the trash”  Trash could be piled sky high, in which case, he will put his stuff on that counter and claim that he didn’t want it to spill out of the can. But here, there is clearly plenty of room. This happens several times a week. “Why didn’t you just put it in the can?”   “I don’t know, Chris. Is it really that big a deal? Is it worth fighting about?”

Fuckyouwhat?

YES IT IS DAMMIT!!!  This passive/aggressve shit has to stop. Someone has a bug up their ass. So far, I think it’s him but if this shit continues, he will have more than a bug….he’ll have my fucking BOOTS!

Hubs just fucked things all up for me and I AM NOT HAPPY!!!

One month ago:
Hubs: “What do you wanna do for your birthday?”
Me: “Paint the bedroom and bathroom. Don’t take me out to YOUR favorite restaurant for MY birthday. Don’t waste money we don’t have. That is all.”
H: “Wanna go to a beef and beer?”
M: “No, I hate them and I don’t want to hang with your sisters on MY birthday. I am planning on going to Donna’s or hanging with Linda”
H: “OK”

This morning:
M: “So….for the next two Saturday nights, you’ll be on your own. Whatcha gonna do?”
H: “What do you mean ‘two Saturdays’?”
M: “Next week I rescheduled the party ( I had to cancel a small party due to the weather) and the  week after that I’m going to Donna’s for Linda’s and my birthday.”

This afternoon:
H: “Here” (hands me two tickets) We’re going to a beef and beer on the thirteenth”
M: “WHAT THE FUCK??”
H: “What? I thought it would be cool to go out and do something different.”
M: “You don’t drink beer and I have plans!”

I MARRIED A FUCKING MORON!!!!

Can ya tell I’m not happy?
I am trying to unload those tickets…fast!  $25.00 a piece for something I don’t wanna do and he won’t drink beer!!!!! What was he thinking?????

Men, when your woman’s birthday comes around, do something nice or nothing at all!!!  Take us to a new restaurant….NOT YOUR FAVORITE!! If you ask her what she wants, CHOOSE THAT! Believe me, she’d rather have a bottle of bubble bath from the Dollar Store, a plastic flower, or even have you order pizza for dinner one night without her having to ask you.

GAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Spoiling.

Bandit is as spoiled as they come. I can tell you why too. My own kids were independent from the get-go. Before they ever reached school age, I knew which ones never wanted breakfast. I knew how much it annoyed one to be woken up by mom, prompted to hurry up and asked if they had all their papers.  I knew which one wanted some chitchat.

Bandit has no such requests.He loves the ’smothering’.  He wants me to sit down so he can sit on my lap. He wants his ears rubbed. He likes to be warm. Oh boy, does he like to be warm.

We got our gas/electric bill for the month of December. It was nearly $150. higher than usual. Since I am here alone in the daytime, I like to snuggle with the pup on the couch, under a blanket, watching a movie with a cup of tea or cocoa. My night sweats and hot flashes make me want the heat turned down all the time. I love the weight and feel of a warm hoodie, a thick sweater, and fluffy socks. How did it go up so fucking high??

I finally put two and two together.

Bandit will sit in front of the heater. Not just near it. Not just in front of it. ALL UP IN IT. If he got any closer, he would be sliced into quarter inch little slivers. He hears the heat come on and runs to the heater, and sucks it all up. When it finally starts to cool a bit, he will run back to me and snuggle again, or he will curl up on his couch.

Today, it’s cold–or ‘Fucking Cold” according to my weather page.

I made sure to put his warm jacket on when he went out to pee, but I pulled it off him when he came back in. (After much whining and trying to get away from me!) I felt bad and since I was also taking away the heater privileges, I let him wear his sweater. He’s not very happy with me, but an extra $150? I could use it in my pocket!

We will now see if the bill goes down. We will also wait and see if Bandit can find a way to get at the heater. Because I don’t think the cold is going away any time soon….

I then stretched langorously, ready to ease myself into my day. (Where’s that remote? Oh, under my butt…)

I watched tv for a few minutes but was lured by the aroma of coffee into the kitchen. (Mmm. I hope they left me a cup…DAMN! tantalized again!)

I took a moment to gather my breakfast, eager to sit and enjoy the silence. (Eggs sound good…Crap! They used the skillet and no one washed it yet! Cereal then. With barely enough milk to moisten the shredded wheat.)

As I settled  into my chair, the phone rang. Perhaps a friend wants to have lunch? (Hello, this is Susan from the CVS. Your prescription is now ready to be picked up.) I returned to my seat and began to eat,(Mmm…sodden wheat!)

I did some laundry and decided to walk on my treadmill. I will start to prepare for summer. I will walk longer than I did yesterday. I will even add a few situps! (*gasp* Only three minutes? HOW FAR??? *gasp* Omg. My boobs are sweating so bad! *wheeze* If I die now, no one will find me for another 7 hours! Fuck the situps!)

A shower is incredible when you know that the entire house is empty. I can shave, suds myself up, moisturize…truly take the time to pamper myself. Ahh, hot water! This shampoo smells sooo good. (*SPLAT* What the– Bandit! What the hell are you doing in here?! Get out! Ow-ow-ow-ow!! SOAP IN MY EYES!!)

I resigned myself to cutting the shower short. I will simply settle for giving myself a mani/pedi. I gather my polish, clippers and pumice to begin. I sit on the couch (In the spot that Bandit chose to lay in while he was dripping from the shower!!)

I will NOT let this get to me. I return to my polish. My toes look cute. (*blurgh, BLURG* OMG! BANDIT! DON’T PUKE!!)

Rushing to grab a towel, I hit my toe on the table, I grab the towel, catch the puke, smear the polish off of three fingers, notice that the polish has toppled onto the table and is rolling toward the edge. I rescue the bottle, and end up sitting on the floor in the middle of the room.

My life is too fucking glamorous for words.

On that day, I went into the Short Procedure Unit and gave my name. The man at the desk already had the chart I had filled out in the Doc’s office in his hand. I signed my consent to be treated and was immediately ushered into Room 2. In Room 2, the nurses took my blood pressure, temperature, and asked me a few health history questions. This took ten minutes…tops. Into Room 3. In bathroom off to the side, I put on my gown, and hung my stuff up on a hook. Coming out, I was in the procedure room. IV went in, I rolled onto my side and I was done. When I woke up, I was handed a drink, they took my blood pressure and handed me my clothes. After I dressed, they took my blood pressure one more time and I was good to go.

That was it.

Yesterday (and all the other times) I went in for my back injections. I enter “F” Hospital. I must go to the main desk and tell them I am here. The old woman tells me to go across the hall. (Duh, I do this every week. Plus I have done this for the past four years that I have been getting this done) Across the hall, the woman gathers all of my insurance info. They check my address, phone number and Social Security number. EVERY SINGLE WEEK. They have computers. They have all of this in front of them and yet, we must do this every week. I sign papers and then I am told to go upstairs to the Short Procedure Unit.

In SPU, I am given a gown, I get changed and then they take all kinds of medical history. What meds are you on? Any history of this or that? Why are you here? EVERY WEEK. None of this ever changes. These women see the same people over and over week after week. Hubs and I are getting to know their faces too. We all see the same doctor. We all do the same procedures. Sometimes the nurses even ask us about our vacations, kids, spouses and if we are still taking “X” medicine or if we had “Y” procedure that we had chatted about last year. Really. That’s how often some of  us are there. And then I sign more papers.

After they ask these questions, we sit in a holding area for an hour or more. Yes, an hour or more. Finally, someone comes to get us and we go to another holding area where they put in an IV, ask us more questions and make me sign more papers. the doctor comes in to say hello and prove that he is sober(I assume). He puts little x’s on my back and I am wheeled into the procedure room.

When I awaken, I am in yet another room where I will stop being groggy and lay there listening to the nurses’ idle chitchat. After a half hour or so, (an additional 20 minutes for each shot I may need for pain management) I am taken back to the the SPU. I get some juice and they take my blood pressure and temperature and oxygen reading. I eat a few crackers and they take my blood pressure and temperature and oxygen reading. I am finally given my clothes and after I dress, they take my blood pressure and temperature and oygen reading.

THEN they will make sure my ride is there and let me leave.

Two hospitals. Two hugely different methods of intake. I don’t understand this. At “T” Hospital, when I told them how surprised Iwas at how quickly things were managed, they were shocked to hear how long things took at the other hospital. At “F” Hospital, they were amazed at how quickly “T” handled business. “F”’s nurses were convinced that somehow “T” was running a less than efficient SPU by cutting corners…somewhere. They agreed with me that all necessary info was gathered  by both hospitals. All steps were taken to insure my health. But I had gone in for a procedure and got out within an hour and a half…tops. For the shots, while I will concede that it is very different procedure, the intake should not be all that different or more complicated.

Why can’t my info be saved until next week? Why can’t they look at it and say “has anything changed from last week?” So much of what they do seems to be redundant. I wonder how much money could be saved by cutting it down to a a clean routine like “T” Hospital seems to implement?

Is this part of why our health care costs so much? Or is this a sign of  ‘Health-care-yet-to-come’?

Short Procedure? PFFFTT!

and

Take a few minutes to check out “Green” with Ren, Finn, Robin and Bluepaintred.