Bad Mood DudeI just returned from the State Court of Appeals where I was sworn in by a judge (in robes, no less) for a recorded session in which I was to present testimony and supporting evidence to show that I did not intentionally and willfully defraud the State of California of $150 in overpaid unemployment benefits way back in 1996.
Good grief, Charlie Brown.
Bad Mood DudeNot only have I just discovered that my last employer canceled my health insurance without giving me a shred of information about COBRA first, but the IRS wrote me a second little note asking for the 2005 tax return I filed with HR Block.
So, insurance: no notification, no heads-up, just the pharmacist handing me my card back and saying, “You insurance has been canceled. That will be $170, please.”
And, tax return: HR Block advises me to print out my entire 2005 return (on file of course, online, where it’s been all along!), print out new forms from the IRS, and MANUALLY TRANSFER all of the information before signing it and mailing it off.
I’m supposed to have a lovely getaway this weekend as a guest of friends, but can you guess how excited I am to drive 10 hours round trip with no health insurance? Hmm?
Bad Mood DudeBah. Bah bah bah.
Happy Labor Day today. I’ve never belonged to a union and am not employed at the moment, but good on you! *thumbs up*
I went to see Rush Hour 3 tonight (shush) to get some of the icky details of my messy life out of my head, and it was really good. Plus? The popcorn was fresh and had just the right amount of salt and butter on it. That’s pretty royally fabulous, in my book.
Then, a nice dinner out with Phil before the kids came home, then the usual drill (and I mean DRILL, as in sergeant, as in rigid discipline, as in power tool to the head) of baths and bed ("But we didn’t get to eat! Dad only got us Jamba Juice!” Arrrrrghhh.).
And finally, in the quiet evening, I sat near the fan and played with the css and code of a site I’ve been making for my own amusement—perhaps you’ll see it here one day; it’s designed to dish up one random post per visit in a fun and snarky fashion, in case I decide to move to Pago Pago and don’t want to do the daily thing anymore. But I digress.
The mistake came in not shutting down completely after I got my header and backgrounds to line up and for all the parts to fit together flawlessly. I can work on the floats later. I should have walked away. But then I saw an email in my inbox and clicked.
GAH.
The one job tailor-made in heaven for me by perky little cherubim was filled by another candidate today, though they were so impressed with my resume that they want to keep me on file, if I don’t mind. Actually, I’d rather have a job, but sure, go ahead. File away.
And now I’m going to go read something until I fall unconscious.
Bad Mood DudeThe state just terminated my unemployment benefits, and I can’t get through to find out why.
Bad Mood DudeAh, there’s nothing quite like launching a site you’ve been working your ass off on for two months and then have it go KER-SPLAT right into the middle of a 404 mud puddle.
It’s almost as exhilarating as locating your new health insurance enrollment packet from the job that lasted a whopping five days, knowing that you are eligible for coverage as a result of being hired, and for COBRA as a result of being fired. But is there any way to use the coverage for the plastic surgery my son needs on Wednesday? Can anyone even tell me whether any insurance company would even cover plastic surgery on a six seven-year-old? I mean, that tick bite went rather nasty even after I cleaned it well and then stayed there through the healing process, and I know that there is still something in there and I hope to God it doesn’t hatch at the first stroke of the surgeon’s scalpel. Whatever it is, my pediatrician wanted no part of it and sent me straight to the professionals.
I quite agreed, as the last surgeon who opened him up was also the one who opened me up to remove a lump that had been biopsied nearly into disintegration. He tends to leave livid scars. And livid patients. See, he repaired Dylan’s two inguinal hernias, but failed to even locate the rarer spigelian hernia that had popped out like a walnut on Thanksgiving Day 2002. Opened him up and left a memorable scar, but couldn’t find where roughly three inches of intestine had squeezed through before I tucked it back in. Me? I’m not so worried about my scar as I’ve long given up on being a centerfold, but I still don’t love the red crescent scar that winks at me each time I towel off after a shower.
You’re welcome. Heh.
Anyway, the Pear Soup site: either my tiny hosting account couldn’t handle the bandwidth or something got screwed up but I have no resolution from the host, and am waiting for a few things to re-set. But for a few hours there, things were hopping! Great response!
Oh, great. Phil is IM-ing me from South Carolina to say that it looks fine on his computer. Well, everything’s slower down South, isn’t it? Maybe it hasn’t hit yet. Or maybe this is yet MORE PENANCE I am doing for who knows wtf I did in a past life.
I simply cannot get a break. I finally design a web site with a concept that I think will go totally viral, and KER-SPLAT.
Enjoy the Apocalypse. You know, I actually started a line of housewares with that slogan, once upon a time. I rather liked it.
Bad Mood DudeWe hosted four of the Big Seven the other day Chez Roberts. I gave the kids a day off from camp, because… well… They didn’t feel much like going and I didn’t feel much like spending three hours in the car.
So, instead, they spent the day watching TV, playing cards, snacking, and playing Dressup.
Pride was here briefly, but didn’t stay long. I’d like to say it was Greed that made me accept the terms of my separation, but it was more Wrath egging me on. I still haven’t been able to pay my emergency room bills from a while back. And then there’s Dylan’s surgery coming up.
Come on in and make yourself comfortable, Wrathster, my man. Want a beer?
Bad Mood DudeI received a letter today saying that they never received my 2005 tax return. I think that was the last time my ex and I filed jointly. And that he did the actual filing.
Maybe I should check on that.
Bad Mood DudeI can’t talk about a single thing that’s weighing on me at the moment, and I feel like I’ve been kicked in the gut with steel-toed Mephistos.
I don’t want to eat, I don’t want to go out, I don’t want to talk to anyone, I only want to see my kids, but they’ve gone to Tahoe with their dad, which I’ve just learned from his house mate. You’d think I might have gotten a note about that. All I can do is curl up in Daphne’s bed and wait for tomorrow.
What have I done? What kind of karmic shit is this? What is the universe telling me NOW?
My neighbors and I were alerted Thursday of increased West Nile virus activity in our neighborhood.
The district mailed more than 4,400 postcards to residents Thursday, saying that four WNV-positive birds were found in the area within the past two weeks.
The area of concern includes residents within a one-mile radius of where the birds were found.
In addition to offering WNV precautionary tips, the postcards also ask residents to alert the district of any possible mosquito sources in the neighborhood.
“It is very important that the residents in these areas know how to protect themselves and their families,” said District Manager Tim Mulligan. “Even though the virus could be anywhere in the county, all signs are pointing to the fact that this area may have the greatest potential for infected mosquitoes at this time.”
Uh, I guess that explains the dead crow in my yard two weeks ago. The one I picked up and bagged for the trash after it had been there a couple of days.
...residents throughout the county are asked to report any dead crows, jays or raptors such as hawks, falcons or owls, or tree squirrels that have been dead less than 24 hours, and show no signs of trauma from other animals or vehicles, to the California’s WNV hot line at 877-968-2473.
So I called it in, and was thanked profusely by the operator. As of yesterday, seven confirmed cases were reported, and I reported the eighth. On my front flippin’ lawn.
Now that I am at home again I can spend my days on the pergola, hidden in the wisteria, with binoculars strapped to my neck. I wonder if that pays.
Bad Mood DudeI can’t talk about why I am unemployed once again, because I do not know why myself. I’m turning comments off and going to bed.
I was just having a very uplifting conversation with Dylan, though I have no idea why—it was an hour after I tucked up in for the second time.
He snuggled up under my arm and said, “I could never have a better mom.” I hugged him back and told him he was my special son. He patted my thigh, and said, “Your legs are wider. Look.”
“Hmmm?”
“Mom, your legs are getting bigger.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah, look.”
“Is that alright with you? I have gained some weight.”
Totally ignoring the out I’d offered him, he asked, “Well, when are you going to start losing weight?”
I can ignore things too.
“Is exercise what makes you lose weight?”
“Yep, that’s the best way. And when do you think I’ll be doing that?”
“You have an exerciser right here,” he pointed out, indicating my elliptical where I tuck all my computer cases and peripherals.
“I don’t know,” I said sarcastically, “My kids keep getting out of bed once I tuck them in.”
“Well,” he thought carefully, “You could do it all night.”
I let him fall asleep on the chair behind me until I was ready to go to bed.
Stupid thighs.
Hey wait! Come back! I’m still here!
Not that you’d know it by my posting patterns of late. And not to sound like a sad sack, but I’m unemployed, in debt, have developed a screeching case of sciatica, and am stewing about the children’s camps being at THREE DIFFERENT SCHOOLS across TWO TOWNS. It takes ninety minutes to to the drop offs and pick ups. When I chose this camp, it was because it was an awesome Y on the way to my last job. Well, we all know how convenient that is now. Also, I had this wild hallucination that the camps were all on location at the Y, but in fact each age group has its own program hosted at a different elementary school in the county.
I mean really, I worked in that town for twelve years and still managed to get lost for twenty minutes yesterday trying to get from one to the other. I had it all mapped out as a journey on Google Maps, but had to go out of order for pickup and that threw me off completely. And this morning, Logan had a field trip so we tried a whole new rotation, and though I did not get lost, I cursed under my breath at each of the seventy-two stop signs. My kids’ age group locations could not be more geographically undesirable. But the deposits were paid and Gil organized it all, so I’m trying to be smart about changes that won’t cost a fortune.
Ow, that made my back hurt. Must try to relax.
In fact, that’s what I’m going to do today. Not the five loads of laundry sorted and waiting, not the web site, which needs tons of organizing, not the job search, not the crossword even though I got my hands on an unmarred NYT Sunday edition the other day and have been gagging to finish it, not the dishes, and certainly not the garage. I am going to take something for pain and read, flat on my back, in bed. I surrender.
In the meantime, I am totally engrossed in “Baby Proof” by Emily Giffen, and have discovered who I want to be when I grow up. I have no (more) words.
Father’s Day itself went swimmingly, with a wonderful dinner at mom’s with my stepbrother, sister-in-law, and nephew from Toyko, plus a niece from Santa Cruz, mom and step dad, Phil, three kids, and me.
That’s a lot of people to have to call three days later to notify them of a raging case of shingles in one of the dinner guests.
Have I mentioned that neither the children nor I have ever had Chicken Pox? And that I had the vaccine in 1996, Logan had it in 1998, and that it’s time for boosters? And that the CDC has now gone back to their original position recommending immunization at 12 months and 4-6 years? Read for yourself.
So, we had lots to talk about at the Pediatrician’s office while we were this morning, watching her do minor surgery on Dylan’s tick bite that was not healing but growing bigger and angrier and, well, more and more unwelcome.
To recap: two hours in the examining room, seventeen brawls, minor surgery, antibiotics, a CDC fact sheet, and a trip to McDonald’s, all before noon.
Some people actually think you have to die to glimpse Hell.
P.S. No fewer that three moms, including the Pediatrician, complimented my new “World’s Best Mom when my kids are in school” t-shirt. None of this was lost on Logan, who thinks it makes them look bad. I say, no, it’s just that when they’re at school, we miss them so much that we’re extra good moms. *cough*
Bad Mood DudeI really hate bending down to peer behind a huge piece of furniture only to slam my face on the door frame adjacent to said piece of furniture. I hit hard enough to leave an eyelid print on the inside of one lens and pop that lens half out of its groove, scrape paint off my metal frames, and give myself a shiner from my left eyebrow all the way to the bottom of the orbital socket.
It really hurts.
And these were the frames that fit most comfortably. And cost the most.
Because I’m here, there and everywhere now that I’m unemployed, Phil is always trying to reach me during the day—via Yahoo IM, my cell, my home phone, email, Skype (until I left that nefarious position), and now iChat. I’m using iChat because a friend and I are collaborating on a new web business and it’s easiest to send files and bounce ideas.
Today, however, I thought I’d make it easy and went visible on Yahoo. Here’s the thing, though: when I go visible I always feel compelled to explain myself. I mean, it’s been at least a year since I’ve popped up, right? So I put in a new status message: “dropped my laptop, am exceedingly grumpy, backing up G5.”
Well, I haven’t heard from Phil yet, but the Blue Sloth found me.
Blue Sloth: “dropped your laptop...grumpy” ?
Blue Sloth: That’s your message?
Blue Sloth: And you expect anyone who knows you to come within five hundred yards of you?
Blue Sloth: Do you think we’re crazy?
Blue Sloth: Have a death wish. I’m suprised the keys don’t melt under you fingertips...........
Blue Sloth: *ducks and hides*
Blue Sloth: **and hides children**
Blue Sloth: ****and tries to think of place to hide your children****
So I responded:
themommyblog: that’s getting blogged
Blue Sloth: bigbluesloth has signed out
I write. A lot.
I also design stuff and collect funny things kids say. Oh, and please buy my book. It's very funny.
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