Surprises, Disappointments, and Irritations -- Oh, My!

I haven't written in around six weeks. I seem to go in cycles of when I feel like writing and when I don't. Let's see, what's happened in all that time?

Susan, Heather, and I drove down to San Antonio (in my car) and attended an SCA event, a fiber arts college which consisted of a whole day of classes related to fiber arts, spinning, weaving, identifying fabric, various types of embroidery (I would go blind if I actually attempted blackwork.), and nalbinding, a type of fingerknitting. We agreed that we were old since in our youth, a road trip would end up with us blued, screwed, and tattooed, drunk off our asses in Tiajuana, or at the very least, in jail somewhere for some sort of socially unacceptable behavior.

Herbie had the gang all over to dinner one night to drop her bomb -- she, Dave, and kids are selling everything and moving to Argentina for a year. Because they want to. Dave said it's more socially acceptable there to be a slacker, and all he wants to do is read a paper, drink coffee in a café, and hit the beach. Their house has been on the market for almost a month now, and their tickets are for August 22nd. Susan and I are already taking bets on how long this venture will actually last. Neither of us see it actually lasting a full year.

Logan really pulled a boner. He pissed me off earlier this month by changing his plans from going camping for a couple of days (I grant him there was no where in Texas to camp that wasn't soggy or actually underwater due to some far-reaching flooding.) and instead, hopping a C-130 to Hawaii, which meant that I ended up having to use vacation days I hadn't planned on using to watch the kids and keep them from killing each other over who gets to be on the computer. Logan stayed in Hawaii a couple of days and discovered that he couldn't get back. It turns out that disabled vets aren't supposed to have "space available" flight benefits. NOW you tell me! So he had to wait for a couple of days more to get a commercial flight back which he could actually afford. Luckily, it was only $27 a night to stay on the base near Waikiki.

While he was still over there, we spoke on the phone a couple of times, and once, before we knew he doesn't really have space A benefits, I asked him if he was prepared to pay for me to fly commercial anytime he takes the kids somewhere. [You see, he never claimed me when he filed for his disabled veteran benefits. He claimed the kids, but not me. That means he and the kids get insurance, can go on base to the BX, the movies ($3 each), the pool ($1 each), and soon, the commisary, plus he can rent a cabin or tent space or marina slip at any of the bases, whether they are Army, Navy, Air Force, or Marines, anywhere in the country and some places overseas. But I can't. If he would claim me as a common-law spouse, then I could.] He said, "we'll have to see what we can do about that", which gave me cause to hope that he would finally claim me to the VA.

Monday, when I got to work, there was an email reminding me that it was Summer Enrollment time, meaning it was time to make my insurance and other benefit decisions for the upcoming fiscal year, which starts September 1st. So I called Logan to discuss the issue with him, and reminded him about what he had said. He got very testy on the issue, and told me he didn't see what good it would do me for him to claim me.

I explained that besides all the obvious benefits, one of the added benefits of having ChampVA insurance is that it would cover all my co-pays since I have BCBS of TX, plus -- I would be able to have lap-band surgery. This is my main goal.

Logan asked how it would benefit him. I guess he's just too dumb to realize that it would save me money (no co-pays), I'd get a small monthly stipend, and being able to have the surgery could possibly add years to my life. He argued and fought with me over this. He thinks I have some ulterior motive, like taking the house away from him and putting him out on the street. His paranoia really kicks in hard from time to time, and because he's twice-divorced and the divorces both came from out of the blue, blind-siding him, he is unreasonable about this issue.

So I started researching the issue, printing out things to back up my assertions as to what benefits I'd get, and in doing so, I discovered that I can file a claim myself, above his objections.

So that's what I'm going to do. After 16 years of letting Logan call the shots in our relationship, I've decided to make some decisions on my own, without consulting him. There are two of us in this relationship, I am tired of not having a vote. We're supposed to be a partnership, not a monarchy. And if I don't get a vote, I'm staging a coup.

At least you know you're alive....

It's slow today at work, and I'm suffering from ennui despite the fact that I had a fun weekend (party with friends Saturday) and I had a health scare yesterday. I may have a hernia, and I awoke with searing, burning pain just below my ribs, right in the center of my... chest? abdomen? kinda where my diaphram is (solar plexus?). The pain was such that it woke me from a deep sleep, but not sufficiently enough that I could even call for Logan's help. In my mind, I kept thinking I needed to go to the ER, but I couldn't move to call or even say a word if I had managed to get the phone. I was scared, but eventually resigned myself that maybe I was dying and it would be okay. I fell back asleep, and was pleasantly surprised to wake up, and with no pain.

I've Got You Under My Skin

The universe has been getting on my last nerve lately. From witless drivers who rudely push their way into the space I thought of as a safe driving buffer zone distance to telemarketers who don't even bother to have actual humans call and interrupt dinner but instead resort to using computers to tell me they have an important message to clueless, undereducated sales clerks that must have failed third grade math because they stare blankly at me when I hand them $21.05 when my bill is $15.55 (My change should be $5.50, a nice round sum, rather than $4.45 if I had paid with just the $20.00.). I've had it with people.

Movin' On Up

Here's the email I sent to kith and kin this morning:

I received word late yesterday afternoon that I got the promotion I applied for here at work. I will still be in accounting, but will be one pay grade higher, with a 3% raise -- not a lot, but I will be learning some new stuff, which is really what I was looking for since what I'm now doing has become fairly rote. What's really neat is that I will have an actual office, not a cubicle in a large room, so it will be quieter, I will be nearer to a window (though won't actually have one, but can see out the window across the hall -- where I am now, there are NO windows at all), and I will have my name on a sign next to the door! I will have to take a picture of it.

I'm not sure when I'm moving across the hall because the new boss is out on medical leave (She should return on Wednesday.), and I will have to train my replacement once someone is hired. I'll keep you posted.

Out like a lion

I've been out of the habit of writing because I switched to the Google version of this blog, and forgot my username and password, and never got around to recovering them until today. Last month was not a very happy month, anyway, so I suppose I was avoiding writing about it.

I was out from work for a week from Feb. 12th through Feb. 16th with the flu and bronchitis on strict orders from the doctor to stay in bed -- not even sitting up to play on the computer -- because the bronchitis was threatening to turn into pneumonia. I'm better now, but still coughing up crud. At least it's mostly clear now, and not the putrid shade of green it was during the height of my illness. I finished a course of Tamiflu, which I'm not sure did anything at all, and took Mucinex DM for several days until my sense of taste returned and I couldn't get the things down, they taste so bad. The smell isn't lovely, either. I'm still sucking on an Albuterol inhaler 4 - 6 times a day, which is supposed to keep me from wheezing, but I think all it does is make me dizzy, then cause me to hack up a huge loogie. I went through FOUR boxes of Kleenex while I was sick, and went through another one my first week back at work. Gah, I hate being sick.

On the 19th, Weyland's kitten, "Wac" ("wild-assed cat", named by Logan), got hit by a car and killed. Weyland wouldn't eat dinner that night, and had trouble falling asleep. He has been having such trouble anyway, trying to get his schoolwork done. I don't know what his problem is or how to help him, but he's taken a distinct disliking of school, and won't finish his work in class or do his homework. I think he's terribly bored, and doesn't see the point of doing what he calls "baby" work, despite being in the gifted/talented program, such as it is in the EISD.

In other news, now it isn't likely that Beth will be sent to Germany. I'm kinda bummed about the whole thing because 1) She's not getting to go on an adventure to which she was looking forward, 2) I'm not getting to go on an adventure to which I was looking forward, which would have included, perhaps, meeting a couple of my penpals AND spending some time with one of my FAVORITE COUSINS and her husband, and 3) It was probably going to be my best chance at getting to go overseas.

I've only flown in a plane twice. The first time was in a little four seat airplane out in West Texas while visiting two of my other cousins out in Snyder. It was very hot, and the pilot thought it was funny to make wild maneuvers so that we girls squealed. Between the heat and the sudden drops, I got queasy and decided I didn't like flying. My second time in an airplane was flying into Love Field from Lubbock the year my parents died. Aunt Patsy and Uncle Buck had me come spend Christmas with them because I was pretty much adrift and alone that year. I remember feeling very grateful for the invitation since my sisters didn't say a word to me that year about any sort of doings. I suppose they were dealing with the loss of our parents and a sister in their own ways, but at least they both had husbands to help them with their grief. I had no one, and not hearing from them hurt. Hell, it still smarts, as I sit here at lunch, glad that no one has noticed that I have tears welling up in my eyes.

I discovered I like flying in big airplanes better than in small ones, but the take off rather unnerved me. I had to laugh at my own naivete. When I finally unclenched my hands from the armrests and relaxed enough to take in the view, when I looked down, I thought to myself, "since when does Texas have snow covered mountains?" Then the clouds cleared, and I was agog at how high in the air we were.

What is ironic is that I would love nothing better than to be a travel writer, but I have been damn few places beyond my hometown. I've been as far west as Carlsbad Caverns, NM, as far south as Galveston, TX, as far east as Fort Knox, KY, and as far north as Sallisaw, OK. But alas, no one has ever offered me the dream job, and I haven't studied much on how to get it for myself.

In the meanwhile, I do seem set to change positions here at work. I was the only person interviewed for a job which opened when a woman resigned and went back to her previous job. If hired, I will reconcile entries in the general ledger, reconcile bank entries, and serve as backup for the woman who approves all the data entry and corrections. It's not a lot more money, but it is one pay grade higher, I'd have my own office instead of a cubicle, and I'd actually end up with a lot of free time. The supervisor told me the job is feast and famine, and asked "could I amuse myself when there was nothing to do"?!? Sounds like I'll have time to write the Great American Novel (if such a thing even exists any more), all the while getting paid a whopping two tanks of gas and a lunch a week more. I won't find out until probably next week if I got the job since the supervisor is out on elective surgery, but I like my chances.

Plus ça change

Plus ça change, moins ça change, the French say. My daughter, Beth, who was adopted at about age 2 by my parents in order to receive Social Security for her when my dad took early retirement, was adopted by my sister, Louise, and her husband, Chris. They had been "managing conservators" of Beth since she was 6 years old and went to live with them. Beth requested this action. I'm okay with it, as I have never been much of a mother to Beth since she was 18 months old. So now she's no longer my sister legally, she's my niece.

In other news about Beth, she's accepted an assignment to go to Germany for a year beginning in May, and she says she's going to send me a ticket to visit in September. For Octoberfest, I guess. I'm very excited since I've never been overseas. I'm looking into taking a conversational German course and have resumed my regime of walking three days a week with my friend Susan.

I hope I get to meet my expat, now residing in Germany, penpal HP (whom I discovered through an ad in Alaska Man magazine back when he lived in the states), and I suppose that I should try to find my weird French penpal, Fred "we don't speak of the deads", as well. Who knows when or if I'll ever get another chance to meet either of them.

Adieu, and Auf Wiedersehen.