Blue Lime

Somewhere, a few weeks ago, I looked at some stats about our little blog and realized that if we had advertising, we could cover the cost of our site (and the domain and the email accounts and all the other stuff that comes with it). So, today, I placed an ad spot in the sidebar of our site. I also allowed some to appear in the RSS feeds, so you’ll see something either way you view our blog.

• We can’t, yet, control which ad types appear or don’t. I’ve requested that service, but I don’t know if we’ll qualify. I think it’s funny that the first ad I saw was for children’s clothing!
• Dear readers, you’ll have to let me know if they are too annoying or disruptive. I “watch” our posts, too. But, I get a lot of adds in other sites I read via RSS, so the ads are easy for me to ignore.
• Please, please, please when you are feeling generous, click an ad or two here or there. I want to see if our projected traffic is really as high as they showed me.

Thanks, family/friends!

Oskar, the blind kitten and his first toys. He has a brother, Klaus, who has sight, so if you follow the video thread, you’ll see them both.

Love, compassion, and even sight. Just a few more things to be thankful for!

I am thankful for:

• my husband, my best friend, my everything
• our mutual childfree belief
• our two cats and one turtle who bring us many giggles and lots of love
• that I still have two grandparents living; two finer people might not walk this Earth
• technology that is more often my friend than foe
• reasonable health for us both
• my small business, especially during this economy, and my clients whom I hold dear
• pants that are too big

Happy Thanksgiving!

Dear Alamo @Drafthouse,

Thank you.

Thank you for creating a place where adults can routinely enjoy a movie among the company of other well-behaved adults. Thank you for the No Talking/Texting” rules and the No Little Kids policy. Coupled with the ever-changing menu, glorious drink list, and fabulous service, it’s an adult oasis in an otherwise family (ahem) “friendly” world.

My favorite no-talking spot is, of course, the uncensored version of  “Magnited States of America“. I applaud you for sticking by your standards. Your rules are, in fact, the biggest reason I even darken the door of a movie theater. Yours is the only one I’ll visit. Between your policies/service and the RunPee app (which I keep discreetly running in night mode, in my lap, and away from neighbors), I can enjoy a movie experience.

Thank you for keeping the movie-going experience one worthy of adult admission prices.

Your fan,

Lori

Dear parUNts of the little Crotch Dropping next to me at the Alamo Drafthouse,

I knew we were in for a miserable experience when you seated him to the inside instead of between you two. No decent parent would put a kid between them and a stranger when there was another option, even with a seat of space.

The little bastard (and I’m pretty sure this is literal given how little attention he got/sought from “Daddy”) of ~7 years was far too immature for the two-plus-hours movie experience at the Alamo Drafthouse. He was bored 30 minutes before the movie started, and again 20 minutes before the movie started, and again 10 minutes before the movie started. While he might be “technically” old enough to quality for admission, his maturity is far too young for this excursion. He caught my attention the most when he asked if you two called him a “douche” (you said, “dude”). I know you’d save those precious first words for his baby book, but you were too busy chatting to notice he uttered such a statement. Where, pray tell, did he hear did he hear that word used in a derogatory manner?

During the movie and even with a bevvy of food (popcorn, an entire personal pizza, and an adult-sized drink), he was bothering you for more food and attention. When that didn’t work, he climbed up and down over and over again sitting up tall and then down low. He was annoying, even two seats away. When his Mommy-never-says-”no” version of ADD kicked in, he began bouncing his theater seat between the up/down positions repeatedly. You still said/did nothing.

I knew I was not being too sensitive when the young girl (~9 years old) in the row ahead of us and a few seats over kept turning and looking back at him. Her parents had the impeccable manners to tell her to stop.

He pushed too far when, about half way through the movie, he stood up in his seat. I told him, “Sit Down.” I did not yell. I did not use the expletives I wanted to, though I’m sure he knows them all. I simply did what any normal adult would do. It takes a village to raise your child, after all! He was far more well behaved after being scolded by a stranger. He was not perfect, but he heeded the advice of discipline. You should try it, sometime.

Yet, when the movie was over, and after I walked right past you three, you accosted my husband and told him you didn’t appreciate what I said to your child??? While I’m sure your feelings were genuine, you should have aired your grievances with me. My husband neither speaks for nor represents me. You got lucky; he’s a lot more polite than I am. Heh, I bet you were surprised by his reaction of “I don’t care what you think.”

Had you discussed this with me, I would have loudly explained to you that “parent” is a verb and that you weren’t doing it. I would have cited your “fuck trophy’s” egregious behavior to all within earshot so that others, namely those behind and in front of him, could chime in. I’d have explained the policy of the Alamo Drafthouse and that everyone is expected to keep quiet during shows. (And, no, his tall/low sitting, bouncing the seat, asking for food, etc. is not quiet.)

In addition, I’d have told you that your child is a shining example of what’s wrong with our country. And, before you could question that logic, I’d tell you that I’m the daughter of two teachers, that I grew up learning to behave in public, that I have a Masters’ degree (and then some) in Education, that I expect you to teach your child to behave, and, finally, that parents like you are the numero uno reason why I don’t want kids. I don’t want my kids to have to associate with the little fucker you’ve bred. Why should I have to be the “bad guy” to my kids when people like you won’t discipline yours? This year, it’s movie etiquette; in five years, it’s bullying and sexting; in ten years, it’s drugs or worse. Please for the love of humanity, say “no”, now!

If I really wanted to make your night miserable, all I had to do was raise a card; you’d have been booted by a manager. How much fun would that have been for the little Crotch Fruit? Instead, I gave you a pass and made sure your kid knew his rampant behavior wasn’t acceptable. Count your lucky fucking stars that you got to finish the movie instead of blowing $30 on tickets and that-much-or-more on food/drinks before being thrown out. …and then having to try to see the movie again to appease the power of his wishes over those of you!

Next time a stranger confronts your child about his behavior, you need to look at what he’s doing that would warrant intervention!

Sincerely,
I was a good kid. / Why is yours a little shit?

So, Emil (as primary on the insurance) gets a bill this week that the dentist wants the rest of the money for the bridge replacement. Insurance didn’t pay their part due to “a pre-existing condition….missing tooth”.

I know this is a big “shock” to you all, but I’m seething. I know “receptionist” (in quotes and lowercase because she can’t actually do that job in a dental office) could see the anger steaming from my ears and darting from my eyes hours later when I marched into the office and demanded an appointment for a Sit Down with the DDS.

1. Before Emil changed jobs we got an estimate for my medically-necessary bridge replacement. It was confusing, so I called for more info. “receptionist” couldn’t help, but after I insisted, she gave me to someone who could print up another copy, look at it with me, and figure it out; even she was confused, at first. It wouldn’t be confusing if insurance wasn’t paying less than the 50%, but because we hit the total annual cap before the third item, it was a clusterfuck of expensive information…for a whopping three line items!
2. Then, Emil changed jobs and had a different open enrollment month, so I requested another estimate. When it was exactly the same as the previous one, I called. “Um, we have new insurance, which is why I needed a second estimate. This seems to be another printout from the insurance we had.” I was told that they all pay 50% so that it would be the same. Really? So then why didn’t you tell me that when I called to request it? Right: “receptionist”. gah!
3. Procedure done. My senses of sight, sound, smell, and touch were stuck in Hell during the procedures. Lots of money paid out of pocket. Lots of bitching and ranting on ye olde blog.
4. Bill for more money….due to the “pre-existing condition” and a claim that they didn’t pull the tooth. Oh, let us flash back to my Senior year of high school when the dental insurance company used that same bullshit on my parents.

Now, unless they are going to call conception a pre-existing condition, their excuse doesn’t hold water. I never had the tooth. It’s hereditary. “Missing Tooth Clause,” my ass.

So, after a meeting, I marched my pissed-off self into the dentist office, fully prepared to make a scene, if necessary. I tell “receptionist” I need a meeting-not-exam with DDS. I told her to be sure he was prepared with all my insurance information and that he needed to be ready to make a decision about how he was going to handle what they messed up. True to her form, she asks, “so you’re already a patient, then?” #facepalm

I get home and call the dental insurance. It’s been one of “those” weeks, so they got my full wrath.

1. After call-processing hell that thinks X and N are the same sound (and after I’m sure my call was flagged for “stressed” by my resounding “NOOOOOO!” when it asked if it “understood correctly”), I started the conversation with, “I need to talk to someone who can make decisions.”
2. I jump through all her hoops; she puts me on hold.
3. 30 minutes later I get a supervisor who makes me start over.
1. Never had the tooth; hereditary thing
2. Got an estimate in June to pre-tax the money to pay our >50% part of the bill
3. They weren’t replacing a tooth; see point #1; they were replacing the previous bridge
4. He then says he can’t do anything and tries to explain the contract they have with the University of Texas–Like.I.Care! I ask for someone who can do something and am told there is no one. I LOL in his ear. Of course there isn’t. But, I give him a full ass-chewing where I repeatedly explain how “no one” can “do anything” and how the process is set up that way just to keep customers from getting what they paid for. I also explain that my DDS is not going to be happy and he might drop the very coverage due to a lack of communication/payment. Then-and-only-then, the insurance guy explains there is an appeal process to him and about three steps up the chain. I get the number and, while fuming, explain that there will be no money paid on this. We didn’t get two estimates for “fun”. If they lied to the DDS, that’s between them and the DDS. We did due diligence on our part and then some. I practically dare him to use the “damage your good credit” line with me in this state.
5. At this point, some of the stuff I said at the beginning of our conversation leaks into his gray matter, “Now, if you were getting a bridge replaced, that would be different.” ACK!

So, he gets the DDS office on the phone. I give him “receptionist”‘s name and tell him to ask for someone else if she answers. Guess what? “receptionist” did the paperwork wrong. Check box #45 is the one she missed. That little box means insurance treated the whole process as if this was a brand new, first-ever bridge that was needed to replace a—-missing tooth. And, we’ve come full circle. I never had that tooth! Furthermore, the paperwork made it seem that the DDS pulled teeth 9 and 11, which isn’t the case. Though they are filed down to the nubs and capped, I still have those teeth.

To be fair to the insurance supervisor, he took all my yelling and ranting–only some of which was because he didn’t listen the first time–in great stride. By the end of the hour-long call, I had what I needed/expected/wanted and was apologizing for feeling the need to be nasty. I explained to him that I’ve had this same fight over every bridge and that I think the entire industry is a racket. Clearly, if I’m still fighting the same battle some 20+ years after my first bridge, the industry still has a lot to learn.

During the drama, I Tweeted a lot of frustrations. I was sad-yet-comforted to know that one friend had the exact same problem. Her dental insurance told her that hereditary missing teeth are a pre-existing condition unless they are diagnosed before 18 months of age? WTF? Why would an 18-month old have dental xrays? Besides, are permanent “buds” even visible yet at that age????

Friday mid-day, I get a call from “insurance” gal at the DDS. She’s just as ignorant as “receptionist”. She said the insurance company called and that they were doing new paper work and wanted to know if I still planned to come in for the Sit  Down with the DDS. I told her that if they know what they are doing to get it corrected and she is confident it will all go through without any further billing to us that I don’t need the Sit Down. She balked immediately and *I* had to explain to *her* that she missed “Checkbox #45″ on the form…and that without that box, insurance thought it was pulled teeth and a new bridge. She’s confused and bewildered and says she can look at it next week when the paperwork arrives. “Yes, you need to look for Checkbox #45 on the form if you want to get paid.” #moron

I know this has consumed a lot of our blog this year, but I go through this whole thing every time this bridge needs to be replaced. Every damn time. Health care is a racket…the whole industry. Dental is among the worst.

To the DDS who tried to convince me that getting all my teeth pulled in favor of dentures was a bad idea,
“Can you hear me, now???!!!?!?!?!“

It’s a bit early, I know. But, this year, more than ever, I noticed Christmas (decor, music, sales, advertisements, and more) showing up mid-October with greater force than ever before. As you all know, I’d like to get through Hallowe’en before I see any of that. Thanksgiving, too. I can’t enjoy Christmas when it’s been shoved down my throat for weeks on end. By the time it gets here, I’m sick of it, sometimes literally.

I’ve been deleting emails and unsubscribing from catalogs (print and electronic) for weeks, already. I can find better places to spend my money than with companies who act like too many whores on a street corner.

So, I was relieved to find this in my email this morning.

“…I’m moving slow and mindfully—particularly knowing what the next sixty days hold.

Before you find yourself feeling overscheduled, overextended and overworked during the holiday season, I invite you to slow down and PAUSE.

While this is a favorite time of year for some, this upcoming stretch can also be incredibly stressful, emotionally-taxing and just plain exhausting for many of us. (There is a reason therapists offices are packed in January.)”

Read the rest by Renée Trudeau in her newsletter.

Given the difficulties we’ve had this year, her words are especially poignant. Just yesterday, I learned that Grandaddy is not making any improvement since his last fall. Mama Bee is now getting ready to move him into a V.A. home. Because she’s not a Vet, too, she can’t stay there with him. They will be apart for the first time since 1947; she will live alone for the first time in her life. Oh, and just so you all know what’s ahead for your own families’ future, even the crappy nursing homes are $6,000 a month in rural NE Texas. And don’t save your money, if you have even slightly significant savings, you won’t qualify for any other kinds of benefits. Sell the house, and you might make two years.

I have bigger things to worry about than stupid gifts and stressful travels that are only for others.

Thank you, Renée. I’ll heed the advice, but for different reasons.

Thanks to @idodoodle, we have now seen a Blue Lime (Internet Cafe) in the Philippines. Yay for the “franchise”! Now, if we could only get them to pay their fees…. hmmmm?

“Czech” it out!

If you find @TheBloggess to be anywhere near as funny as I do, add her book to your 2012 wish list!

I mean, anyone who will willingly take a dressed mouse on a plane has some funny stories to share, right?

I hope I end up next to her on a plane one day!

Two years ago, I was far to ill to attend Thanksgiving–my third favorite holiday. I tried to get Emil to go to Bryan without me, but he wanted to stay here and take care of me.
yippie.
j.k. Actually, he was quite kind to check on me but otherwise leave me alone… I think he didn’t want to risk that he was contagious but not symptomatic and “share” with the whole fam damily.
I was no better by Thursday evening, so we cancelled our trip to Paris for Friday-giving, too.

Last year, I was to ill to participate in any part of Hallowe’en. I had one of those colds that lasted for days….and all the wrong days, at that! Since Hallowe’en is far and above my favorite holiday, I was not a happy camper. My costume was recycled from a fundraiser a few years ago, so I wasn’t that exited about it, anyway. (Curses to the crack pot who gave the Hallowe’en party a theme. WTF? I guess she doesn’t realize that themes only work for the person who picks them!)

This year, we made it to the No Kidding! party  and had a really good time. But ~30 hours later, while I suffered insomnia, Emil awoke unable to breathe. So, while tonight could have had some small have-to-work-tomorrow adventure to celebrate this fun holiday, we are at home. He’s “in there” and I’m “in here” because we don’t want him to share.

dammit.

Why can’t this happen at Christmas since it’s my least favorite holiday?

Excuse me, I have to go wash my hands with bleach.

You aren’t anonymous on the Internet. This should come as no surprise to anyone who has ever used Google or facebook.

• If you comment on my blog, I can see what city you are in. I even have a vague-to-accurate address (depending upon several things).
• If you ask me for help with something and then undo all the work I did with your blessing, I’ll know. Guess what? I follow the projects I’ve worked on.
• If you read most of the (infrequent) emails my business sends over the course of a few years but then suddenly mark one as spam a) I’ll know you did that and b) you’ll jeopardize your reputation as a savvy Internet user. Clearly you were interested enough to read some of them. Just don’t be a dick about it. Unsubscribe if you are no longer interested.
  And if you are family, it’s just makes you look even worse.

I’m tired of bad “sportsmanship” to use the term more globally. It’s just not that hard to be nice. It’s even easier to not be a jerk; ha, for that, you don’t have to do ANYthing!