My new SHORT hairs are ultra-cool (as in the opposite of hot) and really really cute on me.
29 June 2005
MAMF
Middle Aged Married Frump
It has dawned on me that this - to much of the world - is who I am.
I am no longer the svelte size 6 in my 20's with too much energy and an insanely high tolerance for a good Gin and Tonic - or four - or more, and the unyielding urge to dance, dance, dance. My entries are not peppered with amusing stories about my sexual partners and our charming banter. I, quite frankly, do not know whether dark blue jeans or sharply creased white cotton (linen?) pants are all the rage this season... though I DO still know enough to understand that the women who actually believe that Khaki can be "pretty" have been sadly misled by too much Sarah Jessica Parker - who doesn't even know how to choose a good color for her hair - thank you!
My life is my family, my household, my cat - who is not named after any fashion designer, but a marauding invader because I thought "Ghengis" would be a cute name for a fuzzy little fluff of kitten. Advice: never name your cat something you do not want him to grow into. My life is my work - not because I have a cool job but because it sustains my family, my household, and my kick ass new car.
My life is a collection of moments: amusing, profound, painful, frustrating, embarrassing, joyous, insightful, intellectual, ridiculous, quiet, parochial, and sometimes even sublime.
With THAT defining my life - I don't need to be 20, I can get by with ONE good G&T every now and again, a pair of comfortable trousers and a mushy soft cotton button down short sleeved shirt, a mean assed cat and the love and support and mutual admiration of my husband, my daughter, and my parents.
It has dawned on me that this - to much of the world - is who I am.
I am no longer the svelte size 6 in my 20's with too much energy and an insanely high tolerance for a good Gin and Tonic - or four - or more, and the unyielding urge to dance, dance, dance. My entries are not peppered with amusing stories about my sexual partners and our charming banter. I, quite frankly, do not know whether dark blue jeans or sharply creased white cotton (linen?) pants are all the rage this season... though I DO still know enough to understand that the women who actually believe that Khaki can be "pretty" have been sadly misled by too much Sarah Jessica Parker - who doesn't even know how to choose a good color for her hair - thank you!
My life is my family, my household, my cat - who is not named after any fashion designer, but a marauding invader because I thought "Ghengis" would be a cute name for a fuzzy little fluff of kitten. Advice: never name your cat something you do not want him to grow into. My life is my work - not because I have a cool job but because it sustains my family, my household, and my kick ass new car.
My life is a collection of moments: amusing, profound, painful, frustrating, embarrassing, joyous, insightful, intellectual, ridiculous, quiet, parochial, and sometimes even sublime.
With THAT defining my life - I don't need to be 20, I can get by with ONE good G&T every now and again, a pair of comfortable trousers and a mushy soft cotton button down short sleeved shirt, a mean assed cat and the love and support and mutual admiration of my husband, my daughter, and my parents.
28 June 2005
Headless Hen
The busy-ness has begun.
Yesterday was grocery shopping for the rest of the week, and a new pool ladder.
Tonight is a haircut and a game.
Tomorrow is laundry, prescription, and packing (and game night for my husband).
Thursday is a facial (two - one for me, one for my husband), laundry, and packing.
Friday is a doctor's appointment, laundry, and packing.
Somehwere in there we also need to collect the car from the shop, purchase a handful of greeting cards, make sure the mail and the milk are stopped, the plants will be watered, and the town car (baby seat - ugh!) is scheduled to come get us.
Vacation Rocks!
Yesterday was grocery shopping for the rest of the week, and a new pool ladder.
Tonight is a haircut and a game.
Tomorrow is laundry, prescription, and packing (and game night for my husband).
Thursday is a facial (two - one for me, one for my husband), laundry, and packing.
Friday is a doctor's appointment, laundry, and packing.
Somehwere in there we also need to collect the car from the shop, purchase a handful of greeting cards, make sure the mail and the milk are stopped, the plants will be watered, and the town car (baby seat - ugh!) is scheduled to come get us.
Vacation Rocks!
24 June 2005
Oh No Ozone
WARNING: there is a possibility that this post will sound outright silly to some of you
grrr
It's going to be so hot today that it's already been anounced that it's an ozone action day. This means that in spite of my plans, I most likely will NOT be mowing the lawn today... instead probably spending the afternoon (after work) in the pool with my mother, daughter, and possibly husband.
But what can so suck about that?
It means that I'll likely be mowing the lawn on Saturday... unless "they" declare IT an ozone action day too, which would put me back to Sunday... PAJAMA Sunday.
Granted, I don't have to abide by the rules of ozone action day, most no one I know DOES... but in the past, except for the odd emergency, *I* have. It's such a little thing to do to help make a difference.
I'm still not sure.
Today I might break the rules.
The lawn is looking pretty manky... like, on the verge of uncontrollable in a day or two... and it's actually been long enough since the last summer rain that it might be dry enough to suck up into the collection bins instead of gumming up in the cutting area and the first half of the sucky-uppey tube. It's supposed to rain on Saturday... (I even heard SOME reports calling for rain today) and that would NOT do.
I think I might break the rules.
hmmm
grrr
It's going to be so hot today that it's already been anounced that it's an ozone action day. This means that in spite of my plans, I most likely will NOT be mowing the lawn today... instead probably spending the afternoon (after work) in the pool with my mother, daughter, and possibly husband.
But what can so suck about that?
It means that I'll likely be mowing the lawn on Saturday... unless "they" declare IT an ozone action day too, which would put me back to Sunday... PAJAMA Sunday.
Granted, I don't have to abide by the rules of ozone action day, most no one I know DOES... but in the past, except for the odd emergency, *I* have. It's such a little thing to do to help make a difference.
I'm still not sure.
Today I might break the rules.
The lawn is looking pretty manky... like, on the verge of uncontrollable in a day or two... and it's actually been long enough since the last summer rain that it might be dry enough to suck up into the collection bins instead of gumming up in the cutting area and the first half of the sucky-uppey tube. It's supposed to rain on Saturday... (I even heard SOME reports calling for rain today) and that would NOT do.
I think I might break the rules.
hmmm
22 June 2005
Survivor Guilt
My dad started a second job yesterday.
He was laid off some time ago - in the big auto-worker cuts. He's a skilled tradesman and has a good contract. Part of his contract says that if the company lays him off for more than a year, he goes back to work but not HIS work. So for the past almost 9 months he's been working at a plethora of different jobs; some of them cool (like re-building a barn for a local petting farm after a horrible fire), some of them not so cool (like sweeping the parking lot).
Thing is, while it's cool that he's working, he's only been working 40 hours a week... compared to the 60+ that he used to work.
A big cramp on the paternal finances.
Fortunately my mom is something of a financial genius, and they've been able to survive almost two years of my dad not "working".
Lately, though, things are getting scary for them. So my dad took on a second job. A production job. The kind of job he hasn't had in over 20 years. As a second job.
He's exhausted. Day one beat him up pretty bad. And yeah, I could think to myself, well - it's just because it's just day one, it will get better after a week or two.
But I'm not thinking that... I'm thinking "I could get another job and help them out." I'm thinking, "I could rework my budget again, and find a way to pay my mom for looking after the baby while I'm at work."
No - I haven't been through some traumatic experience like a hurricane or a tsunami or a war... but I DO feel the guilt of one who sits at home, after a day's work, in the loving company of family.
He was laid off some time ago - in the big auto-worker cuts. He's a skilled tradesman and has a good contract. Part of his contract says that if the company lays him off for more than a year, he goes back to work but not HIS work. So for the past almost 9 months he's been working at a plethora of different jobs; some of them cool (like re-building a barn for a local petting farm after a horrible fire), some of them not so cool (like sweeping the parking lot).
Thing is, while it's cool that he's working, he's only been working 40 hours a week... compared to the 60+ that he used to work.
A big cramp on the paternal finances.
Fortunately my mom is something of a financial genius, and they've been able to survive almost two years of my dad not "working".
Lately, though, things are getting scary for them. So my dad took on a second job. A production job. The kind of job he hasn't had in over 20 years. As a second job.
He's exhausted. Day one beat him up pretty bad. And yeah, I could think to myself, well - it's just because it's just day one, it will get better after a week or two.
But I'm not thinking that... I'm thinking "I could get another job and help them out." I'm thinking, "I could rework my budget again, and find a way to pay my mom for looking after the baby while I'm at work."
No - I haven't been through some traumatic experience like a hurricane or a tsunami or a war... but I DO feel the guilt of one who sits at home, after a day's work, in the loving company of family.
20 June 2005
Exhaustatron
Oh heavens, busy weekends do me in.
It wasn't even like I had to run a gazillion errands, or scour the house, or attend to the mountain of laundry still waiting for attention. It was family...
Saturday was normal for about 2 hours... which were occupied by waking up, making breakfast, and eating breakfast. After that, we got busy. First up - Father's Day shopping.
For any who know me, they KNOW beyond a shadow of a doubt that I do NOT leave gift shopping until the last minute. It's not my way... never has been, never should have been. Then I got married.
For my personal needs, the shopping was short and easy... 4 cards and some scratchie lottery tickets for my dad. I had had my husband's gifts from me for the better part of two months, and his gift from my daughter for a month at least. Ok... I needed to get some wrapping paper too.
So we spent much of the morning deciding what my daughter was going to "buy" for her granddads and then getting it. No - she's not really all that equipped to make these decisions herself... she's only just over a year old. Her dad was supposed to come up with the ideas... since I had managed her gifts (including my own from her) for Mother's Day. When we finally decided what to get the only hindrance was the fact that I had left my wallet in my car and by the time I'd retrieved it my husband had already paid for my purchase.
** I know I should have been grateful that he covered the tab for me, and I am, but at the same time, this practice (in which both my husband and my mother participate) makes me crazy angry, because:
a) I LIKE being financially independent, being able to afford and buy things WITH MY OWN MONEY
and
b) if you're GOING to pay for something for me, freakin' stop me from running the double football field to and from the car BEFORE... I... LEAVE!!!
Rant complete ***
To make up for it, I bought him and iced coffee.
Anywho... after this it was off to Hallmark to get some cards. I got one, two, three, four, five:
(hubby from me, daddy from our daughter, my dad from me, my dad from our daughter, his dad from our daughter) in about 10 minutes. Then I took our little girl to go pick out wrapping paper and keep her occupied while her dad got one card for his dad. (OK, and replaced the card I got "from baby for Papa" because he found a much cuter one.)
I love my husband... I love him more than I have ever loved any man ever... but he's SO bad at selecting cards. Not that he makes bad selections, quite the contrary... but he takes a REALLY LONG TIME to do it.
I honestly think it's a difference in our style. I find something generally pretty good, and decide... "yeah, for something I didn't write, this comes pretty close to covering how I feel about person X." I think my husband actually believes that someone at Hallmark (or other greeting card publishing companies) knows exactly how he feels about person X. Or maybe I just have a "the right card" divining rod in my fingers... I don't know... but it had to have taken us a half an hour in the card shop... which was JUST ABOUT more than our little girl could handle.
Had I known they had a "coloring table" I might have bought my husband enough time to look through another couple dozen cards, but she was tearing around the store looking for more and more stuffed animals and hell bent for leather to get mama to sweat... and my husband ended up just 'up and deciding' on a card for his dad from us.
Cashed out and on our way... trying to figure out what to get for his dad from the two of us.
My husband had seen the perfect gift on a WAY LESS THAN perfect website... which resulted in his not being able to get said perfect gift... but he came up with an alternate plan - two actually - and we decided that we could certainly get something acceptable - GOOD EVEN - at a giant sporting goods establishment along the way. So one quick stop to get lottery tickets and we were done shopping for the day.
Then... ugh... dreaded family visit. I'm not a big fan of my extended family as a whole. There are some members that I ADORE... who are good, generally nice, and really wonderful people. There are other members of my family who I don't really care to deal with... ever. There was, fortunately, a good mix of these people at the party on Saturday... and while we only stayed for a few hours... I'm good for another several months.
Yesterday - Father's Day - was long.
We woke at a decent hour, hit the road, stopped for SUCCESSFUL (yay!) shopping for my husband's dad, entertained the baby with a statue of enormous bears fighting over a dead moose, washed the car, and continued on the journey... stopping several times for juice and a diaper change, strawberries, and a diaper run - since the aforementioned diaper change a) was unnecessary, and b) resulted in a casualty when a tab tore off of an otherwise mint condition diaper. I could have packed more to begin with, but I was banning contingencies from my morning. I was stupid.
After insufficient napping on Saturday (because of the errands and party) and the early start (without our usual breakfast) my daughter was inclined to irritability yesterday. Combine that with a 2 and a half hour drive (to her paternal grandparents' house) and her reluctance (for whatever reason - most likely the frequent stops) to take a proper nap in the car, and you will understand that it was NO SMALL MIRACLE that she was beautifully behaved throughout the entire visit.
We spent a lot of time outside playing in the grass (one of her simple pleasures) , we had a nice lunch/supper, we had ice cream, the dad's opened their gifts (the "quick pick" card was considered perfect!), we played in a small park, my daughter made a fridge-picture for her grandmother... and 5 hours later we packed up to go.
She was good - even still - for about a minute and half. Then she started crying. Five minutes later she was asleep. We drove in sleeping-baby-bliss for the better part of half of our drive home.
When we stopped for dinner - more accurately, when she heard the phrase CHOCOLATE MILK - my daughter woke up, pleasant enough and hungry. She ate some, she drank some, she started crying. She cried more or less for the next 45 minutes - which should have been between an hour and an hour and a half.
Screaming baby + stressed husband = smashed accelerator.
She stopped crying when my husband started singing to her. She perked up when we turned onto our road. She was playful once we got out of the car. Too many hours in the car seat (which we call "the box").
After all of this, a bath, some strawberries (those same berries I bought along the way earlier in the day), and off to bed.
Yawn...
It wasn't even like I had to run a gazillion errands, or scour the house, or attend to the mountain of laundry still waiting for attention. It was family...
Saturday was normal for about 2 hours... which were occupied by waking up, making breakfast, and eating breakfast. After that, we got busy. First up - Father's Day shopping.
For any who know me, they KNOW beyond a shadow of a doubt that I do NOT leave gift shopping until the last minute. It's not my way... never has been, never should have been. Then I got married.
For my personal needs, the shopping was short and easy... 4 cards and some scratchie lottery tickets for my dad. I had had my husband's gifts from me for the better part of two months, and his gift from my daughter for a month at least. Ok... I needed to get some wrapping paper too.
So we spent much of the morning deciding what my daughter was going to "buy" for her granddads and then getting it. No - she's not really all that equipped to make these decisions herself... she's only just over a year old. Her dad was supposed to come up with the ideas... since I had managed her gifts (including my own from her) for Mother's Day. When we finally decided what to get the only hindrance was the fact that I had left my wallet in my car and by the time I'd retrieved it my husband had already paid for my purchase.
** I know I should have been grateful that he covered the tab for me, and I am, but at the same time, this practice (in which both my husband and my mother participate) makes me crazy angry, because:
a) I LIKE being financially independent, being able to afford and buy things WITH MY OWN MONEY
and
b) if you're GOING to pay for something for me, freakin' stop me from running the double football field to and from the car BEFORE... I... LEAVE!!!
Rant complete ***
To make up for it, I bought him and iced coffee.
Anywho... after this it was off to Hallmark to get some cards. I got one, two, three, four, five:
(hubby from me, daddy from our daughter, my dad from me, my dad from our daughter, his dad from our daughter) in about 10 minutes. Then I took our little girl to go pick out wrapping paper and keep her occupied while her dad got one card for his dad. (OK, and replaced the card I got "from baby for Papa" because he found a much cuter one.)
I love my husband... I love him more than I have ever loved any man ever... but he's SO bad at selecting cards. Not that he makes bad selections, quite the contrary... but he takes a REALLY LONG TIME to do it.
I honestly think it's a difference in our style. I find something generally pretty good, and decide... "yeah, for something I didn't write, this comes pretty close to covering how I feel about person X." I think my husband actually believes that someone at Hallmark (or other greeting card publishing companies) knows exactly how he feels about person X. Or maybe I just have a "the right card" divining rod in my fingers... I don't know... but it had to have taken us a half an hour in the card shop... which was JUST ABOUT more than our little girl could handle.
Had I known they had a "coloring table" I might have bought my husband enough time to look through another couple dozen cards, but she was tearing around the store looking for more and more stuffed animals and hell bent for leather to get mama to sweat... and my husband ended up just 'up and deciding' on a card for his dad from us.
Cashed out and on our way... trying to figure out what to get for his dad from the two of us.
My husband had seen the perfect gift on a WAY LESS THAN perfect website... which resulted in his not being able to get said perfect gift... but he came up with an alternate plan - two actually - and we decided that we could certainly get something acceptable - GOOD EVEN - at a giant sporting goods establishment along the way. So one quick stop to get lottery tickets and we were done shopping for the day.
Then... ugh... dreaded family visit. I'm not a big fan of my extended family as a whole. There are some members that I ADORE... who are good, generally nice, and really wonderful people. There are other members of my family who I don't really care to deal with... ever. There was, fortunately, a good mix of these people at the party on Saturday... and while we only stayed for a few hours... I'm good for another several months.
Yesterday - Father's Day - was long.
We woke at a decent hour, hit the road, stopped for SUCCESSFUL (yay!) shopping for my husband's dad, entertained the baby with a statue of enormous bears fighting over a dead moose, washed the car, and continued on the journey... stopping several times for juice and a diaper change, strawberries, and a diaper run - since the aforementioned diaper change a) was unnecessary, and b) resulted in a casualty when a tab tore off of an otherwise mint condition diaper. I could have packed more to begin with, but I was banning contingencies from my morning. I was stupid.
After insufficient napping on Saturday (because of the errands and party) and the early start (without our usual breakfast) my daughter was inclined to irritability yesterday. Combine that with a 2 and a half hour drive (to her paternal grandparents' house) and her reluctance (for whatever reason - most likely the frequent stops) to take a proper nap in the car, and you will understand that it was NO SMALL MIRACLE that she was beautifully behaved throughout the entire visit.
We spent a lot of time outside playing in the grass (one of her simple pleasures) , we had a nice lunch/supper, we had ice cream, the dad's opened their gifts (the "quick pick" card was considered perfect!), we played in a small park, my daughter made a fridge-picture for her grandmother... and 5 hours later we packed up to go.
She was good - even still - for about a minute and half. Then she started crying. Five minutes later she was asleep. We drove in sleeping-baby-bliss for the better part of half of our drive home.
When we stopped for dinner - more accurately, when she heard the phrase CHOCOLATE MILK - my daughter woke up, pleasant enough and hungry. She ate some, she drank some, she started crying. She cried more or less for the next 45 minutes - which should have been between an hour and an hour and a half.
Screaming baby + stressed husband = smashed accelerator.
She stopped crying when my husband started singing to her. She perked up when we turned onto our road. She was playful once we got out of the car. Too many hours in the car seat (which we call "the box").
After all of this, a bath, some strawberries (those same berries I bought along the way earlier in the day), and off to bed.
Yawn...
16 June 2005
Butt-Kick Day
I would normally use more colorful terminology, but I think my mom might be reading my blog. Te he.
Anywho - I've had a really great day... and I'm happy.
Just in case any of you were curious.
:)
Anywho - I've had a really great day... and I'm happy.
Just in case any of you were curious.
:)
The Man
Yesterday I had lunch with my friend Q to talk her down from the ledge "the man" had set her out onto.
Her rough definition of "the man" (I have since deleted the e-mail containing the ACTUAL definition - mostly for her protection) is: appliances that don't work, stupid nice and well meaning people who can't do their jobs, and faulty cooling systems... and this very important element - things just not doing what they're meant to do.
I've been suffering her "man" a lot myself lately... though in general many of the stupid people plaguing my life are neither nice nor well intentioned.
So the suprise lunch meeting was very pleasant. It gave me a chance to evade the man, to comiserate with a really good friend, and to laugh about the things that always make us laugh so we don't have to worry about them instead. And I got to give her a gift that I had purchased just the night before because when I saw it I thought of her and as far as I'm concerned that's one of the best ways to get a gift for someone.
There's really no story here... just the accomplishment of having turned around a day that was headed south for each of us... yeah, no story, just a happy ending.
Her rough definition of "the man" (I have since deleted the e-mail containing the ACTUAL definition - mostly for her protection) is: appliances that don't work, stupid nice and well meaning people who can't do their jobs, and faulty cooling systems... and this very important element - things just not doing what they're meant to do.
I've been suffering her "man" a lot myself lately... though in general many of the stupid people plaguing my life are neither nice nor well intentioned.
So the suprise lunch meeting was very pleasant. It gave me a chance to evade the man, to comiserate with a really good friend, and to laugh about the things that always make us laugh so we don't have to worry about them instead. And I got to give her a gift that I had purchased just the night before because when I saw it I thought of her and as far as I'm concerned that's one of the best ways to get a gift for someone.
There's really no story here... just the accomplishment of having turned around a day that was headed south for each of us... yeah, no story, just a happy ending.
14 June 2005
Morning Drive
For the first eight or so miles of my drive, the roads are flanked by large trees and a few open meadowey fields. In general it's a pretty drive.
This morning, much of the sky was overcast, holding the very real promise of the heavy rain storms Michigan in the summer is often wont to deliver. Yet through a rather small break in the clouds, honeyed sunlight filtered down onto my world, making the trees almost glow against the backdrop of foul-weather grey and the rising mist of our heated earth under the cool caress of early morning air. Needless to say, the visual was breathtaking - so much so that I almost forgot for a moment that I was driving off to work, rather than into some happily ever after specially designed for me by the imagineers at Disney.
It was what I commonly refer to as a Parrish morning (there are, of course, Parrish evenings too, but I haven't had one recently enough to write about it). The name comes from a favorite painter of mine (and I'm sure countless others) named Maxfield Parrish. You might be amazed at how familiar some of his work is.
As for me, I'm just reveling in the memory of this morning's drive... and the magical way it made me forget my destination.
At least until the thunderstorms (another favorite) start...
13 June 2005
Meet Elliot
A shiny new Pontiac Vibe... jam-packed with lots of stuff; some I need, some I just wanted.
He is an amazing machine... and I am SO lucky and blessed to own him. Lucky because he happened to be on the lot, and I happened to be able to finance him the only way I could have afforded to take him home. Blessed, because I have the support of a husband who had no issue with my accessing our emergency funds to handle the up-front I needed to be able to finance him the only way I could have afforded to take him home.
Why Elliot? Partly because he told me so, and partly because that IS the name of Pete's dragon.
10 June 2005
Self Discovery...
I am a control freak.
This is not news to anyone who knows me. Sometimes it surprises me - even though I know me pretty well - but not much.
I have recently discovered new facets of my freakdom, however, while dealing with the insurance folk.
facet 1
I am able to allow others to do things that are not really all that pleasant
Case in point
Yesterday my father and my husband and I stripped my car of all the good/usable/meaningful stuff still in or on it. I didn't do much of it myself, and the only direction I felt compelled to give was - "if it looks like junk, it probably is, and you can leave it."
facet 2
I REALLY do not like to wait for information.
Case -
I have been all but hounding the folks at the body shop, the claims adjuster, my claim advisor, and any/every one who might possibly be able to walk me through the maze of insurance claims.
I want information and I want it now.
facet 3 (an amazing one)
My desire for information is stronger than my desire for money.
I know that I will be receiving SOME offer from the insurance company for my destroyed car. I also know that it won't be much (which may be influencing my patience level). I also know that I will probably need to haggle with them to make sure I get something more than a token pittance, as my car is rather weak on the resale value side of things. Anyway... I have been significantly MORE patient with the idea of receiving the check (which won't ever hit MY hands anyway - going instead to the financial company who still, technically, owns my car) than I am with the fact that I desperately want to know how much they plan on offering me. The number is very important to me, not because I'm planning a shopping spree and consider that I will be rolling in cash. No. The number is important to me because it is a piece of the puzzle... it is a determining factor in what steps I am to take next... in my plans for the rest of the month - possibly the rest of the summer... maybe even the rest of the year.
And what's worse... I probably won't get that number until after the weekend... and even then, I am pretty sure it won't be the final number.
Ugh.
I know that I am a control freak because I have a deep loathing for uncertainty.
Not that I don't like surprises... or even occasional spontaneity... that's fine.
I just really don't like it when I don't have any idea of what might be around the corner.
I think I might be becoming boring.
hmmm
This is not news to anyone who knows me. Sometimes it surprises me - even though I know me pretty well - but not much.
I have recently discovered new facets of my freakdom, however, while dealing with the insurance folk.
facet 1
I am able to allow others to do things that are not really all that pleasant
Case in point
Yesterday my father and my husband and I stripped my car of all the good/usable/meaningful stuff still in or on it. I didn't do much of it myself, and the only direction I felt compelled to give was - "if it looks like junk, it probably is, and you can leave it."
facet 2
I REALLY do not like to wait for information.
Case -
I have been all but hounding the folks at the body shop, the claims adjuster, my claim advisor, and any/every one who might possibly be able to walk me through the maze of insurance claims.
I want information and I want it now.
facet 3 (an amazing one)
My desire for information is stronger than my desire for money.
I know that I will be receiving SOME offer from the insurance company for my destroyed car. I also know that it won't be much (which may be influencing my patience level). I also know that I will probably need to haggle with them to make sure I get something more than a token pittance, as my car is rather weak on the resale value side of things. Anyway... I have been significantly MORE patient with the idea of receiving the check (which won't ever hit MY hands anyway - going instead to the financial company who still, technically, owns my car) than I am with the fact that I desperately want to know how much they plan on offering me. The number is very important to me, not because I'm planning a shopping spree and consider that I will be rolling in cash. No. The number is important to me because it is a piece of the puzzle... it is a determining factor in what steps I am to take next... in my plans for the rest of the month - possibly the rest of the summer... maybe even the rest of the year.
And what's worse... I probably won't get that number until after the weekend... and even then, I am pretty sure it won't be the final number.
Ugh.
I know that I am a control freak because I have a deep loathing for uncertainty.
Not that I don't like surprises... or even occasional spontaneity... that's fine.
I just really don't like it when I don't have any idea of what might be around the corner.
I think I might be becoming boring.
hmmm
08 June 2005
Wednesday Grey
I realised when I was better than halfway to work (which is about a 50 mile drive) that I have my husband's game bag in his car... which normally would make perfect sense except for the fact that I am driving his car.
It was meant to be mostly sunny this morning, clouding up and storming later rather than earlier. Generally the "right now" clouds wouldn't bother me, but it's only quarter to 8 and it's already been an ugly day. Perhaps the storm will be a doozie and I'll at least have that to enjoy.
I feel, today, as if I had actually been hit by the truck, as opposed to choosing the concrete wall. The stiffness in my shoulders and neck has extended to the middle portions of my back (what my granddad would have called my wings) and it feels as if it's deeper in the muscle now. Still, it's only irritating, not agonizing, so I'm going to clam up on the complaints.
Going to go get some work done now.
It was meant to be mostly sunny this morning, clouding up and storming later rather than earlier. Generally the "right now" clouds wouldn't bother me, but it's only quarter to 8 and it's already been an ugly day. Perhaps the storm will be a doozie and I'll at least have that to enjoy.
I feel, today, as if I had actually been hit by the truck, as opposed to choosing the concrete wall. The stiffness in my shoulders and neck has extended to the middle portions of my back (what my granddad would have called my wings) and it feels as if it's deeper in the muscle now. Still, it's only irritating, not agonizing, so I'm going to clam up on the complaints.
Going to go get some work done now.
07 June 2005
Vroom... Too
Have you ever noticed that one of the worst things you can do for your car is take care of it? No, seriously, how many times have you suffered an automotive breakdown right after you filled the tank, or changed the oil, or even done something as small as installing new wiper blades?
Or - as my husband noted - doesn't it always seem that you car knows when you get a pay raise (or in my experience, have a little "extra" cash saved up, "for a rainy day")?
Last week I had the oil changed on my car. This past weekend, I topped up the fuel, had my dad change the air filter, and I installed new wiper blades.
There is even a remote chance that I will be receiving a merit increase this week, or next.
Dutiful to the end - literally - yesterday Buddha and I were in an accident.
Ok... to be fair, it's not like Buddha suddenly went suicidal and rammed me into the concrete barrier between North and South I-75. It took an 18 wheeler who either didn't know about the fact that he can't hold a sharp turn or just didn't care that he couldn't pushing more than half way into my lane, forcing me into the decision of being hit by an 18 wheeler or running up onto the shoulder and possibly into the concrete divider.
I suffered the minorest of injuries. I have a bruise on my left elbow where I hit the door, and a weird case shoulder whiplash (the impact was primarily on the front left fender, so I didn't hit head on, or even sideways) and I'm stiff and a little sore.
Poor Buddha... he looks rather like a stroke victim... half of his "face" up, half down. During the accident I must have gone up on the divider some, then sort of slid down afterward. The driver's side of the front end sits about 10 inches higher than passenger's side... sigh.
My overall dealings with my insurance company have been pretty good, actually... and I feel rather well taken care of by them. We'll see at things progress, but for the time being I'm inclined to maintain my good opinion of them.
So... I'm a day late on my week's work, already, and MUST get much done this week... which means, of course, that it's time for me draw this episode to a close.
Be safe...
Or - as my husband noted - doesn't it always seem that you car knows when you get a pay raise (or in my experience, have a little "extra" cash saved up, "for a rainy day")?
Last week I had the oil changed on my car. This past weekend, I topped up the fuel, had my dad change the air filter, and I installed new wiper blades.
There is even a remote chance that I will be receiving a merit increase this week, or next.
Dutiful to the end - literally - yesterday Buddha and I were in an accident.
Ok... to be fair, it's not like Buddha suddenly went suicidal and rammed me into the concrete barrier between North and South I-75. It took an 18 wheeler who either didn't know about the fact that he can't hold a sharp turn or just didn't care that he couldn't pushing more than half way into my lane, forcing me into the decision of being hit by an 18 wheeler or running up onto the shoulder and possibly into the concrete divider.
I suffered the minorest of injuries. I have a bruise on my left elbow where I hit the door, and a weird case shoulder whiplash (the impact was primarily on the front left fender, so I didn't hit head on, or even sideways) and I'm stiff and a little sore.
Poor Buddha... he looks rather like a stroke victim... half of his "face" up, half down. During the accident I must have gone up on the divider some, then sort of slid down afterward. The driver's side of the front end sits about 10 inches higher than passenger's side... sigh.
My overall dealings with my insurance company have been pretty good, actually... and I feel rather well taken care of by them. We'll see at things progress, but for the time being I'm inclined to maintain my good opinion of them.
So... I'm a day late on my week's work, already, and MUST get much done this week... which means, of course, that it's time for me draw this episode to a close.
Be safe...
02 June 2005
Game Night
Every other Wednesday (mostly) (including last night) my husband has the wonderful opportunity to get together with some of his (many) friends and play an RPG based on a cartoon I never watched as a child - Robotech.
To be fair, there are MANY cartoons I never watched as a child.
To be double fair, my husband was a child 5 years after I was, and a boy, and probably more interested in cartoons than I would ever be, and was exposed to an entirely different set and sort of cartoons than I.
To be final fair, I doubt that I would ever participate in any game based on any cartoon, because
a) I only play one RPG because it's all the time I care to spend being someone else
b) In general, I don't enjoy cartoons
c) If I did play, I would probably be cast as a care bear, or Strawberry Shortcake, or (heaven forbid) some HORRIBLE Hannah Barbera / Warner Bros. hybrid-creation... just to make me cringe.
From what I understand, the players (and my husband) rather enjoy the game, and that makes me smile. I really like hearing the stories about the game (even if they occasionally lull me to sleep) and, right now, am joyfully anticipating this evening's retelling of last night's game. I have even considered asking to attend a game just to listen to the way he tells the story and experience the unfolding of events first hand. Probably, though, I'm guessing that he wouldn't let me just watch, and I'd have to play some un-important, ultimately expendable character... most likely a space version of a care bear, or S. Shortcake, or etc.
So - yay for my honey's social night... as for me... I'll just stick to being a post-modern vampire wiht a fondness for Nine Inch Nails, Grey Goose, and fast - fast - cars.
To be fair, there are MANY cartoons I never watched as a child.
To be double fair, my husband was a child 5 years after I was, and a boy, and probably more interested in cartoons than I would ever be, and was exposed to an entirely different set and sort of cartoons than I.
To be final fair, I doubt that I would ever participate in any game based on any cartoon, because
a) I only play one RPG because it's all the time I care to spend being someone else
b) In general, I don't enjoy cartoons
c) If I did play, I would probably be cast as a care bear, or Strawberry Shortcake, or (heaven forbid) some HORRIBLE Hannah Barbera / Warner Bros. hybrid-creation... just to make me cringe.
From what I understand, the players (and my husband) rather enjoy the game, and that makes me smile. I really like hearing the stories about the game (even if they occasionally lull me to sleep) and, right now, am joyfully anticipating this evening's retelling of last night's game. I have even considered asking to attend a game just to listen to the way he tells the story and experience the unfolding of events first hand. Probably, though, I'm guessing that he wouldn't let me just watch, and I'd have to play some un-important, ultimately expendable character... most likely a space version of a care bear, or S. Shortcake, or etc.
So - yay for my honey's social night... as for me... I'll just stick to being a post-modern vampire wiht a fondness for Nine Inch Nails, Grey Goose, and fast - fast - cars.
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