I received a letter yesterday that I opened just before we took off on vacation. It was from the taco joint that served me a side of fingernail in my beverage. They took the appropriate tone of being mortified that such a thing occurred in their fine establishment and let me know that the management and crew at that store have been contacted. They included two measly vouchers for free food. Fine by me. It was gross what happened but I'm not going to crusade against them since I've been eating there for years and it is always clean and the employees are very nice. I view it as an isolated incident. The nail could have come mixed in with the lemon - someone could have cut their nail while cutting up the lemon.
The drive down to Keizer was long. Ryan had so much work to get done before leaving that he didn't get home until almost 1:00, then he had to eat lunch, pack and load the car. We hit the Friday rush hour traffic that starts super early in the summer. We got about 5 miles south of the city when everything came to a screeching halt, even the HOV lane was inching along. It stayed slow all the way to Olympia. It took an extra hour to get from our house to Olympia. An hour! It just confirmed for us why we live in the city. Live in city = easy commute. Sure your house is a little (a lot) smaller, you may or may not have a garage, your lot size is small (5,000 ft sq. is a 'decent' size' and many homes are built on 2,500 ft sq lots), the house is older and has knob and tube wiring, old plumbing and maybe asbestos siding and your property taxes are higher BUT you can get to work in under 20 minutes. It's all about minimizing time spent in the car. When I was selling real estate I would preview houses before I showed them to clients to narrow down what I had to show them and unfortunately I took clients who wanted to live in the sticks (Auburn, Renton, Woodinville). I got stuck in traffic so many times while previewing properties I couldn't fathom that people would be willing to put up with spending so much of their precious time in a car going nowhere because they wanted a house that was all new and shiny.
Now for a vacation update.
Ryan's family reunion was today. It's always fun to see his family, they are all so nice and personable. We got to spend a lot of time with Erika, the only grandchild in Ryan's immediate family - my belly was giving her a run for her money though. Her parents are pretty happy that at the next reunion our little guy will deflect some of the attention from her since she is the only toddler in the family right now. Ryan was really enjoying spending time with Erika as he wants to forge a relationship with her. It's kind of hard since we only see her once a year - we will need to fly out to see her more often so our boy will know his cousin. Erika spent two nights at our house and she said Ryan's name once, my name once or twice and Kea's name non-stop. She even says "Kea dog" in her sleep. Kea should be flattered since she also talks about the Wiggles in her sleep.
Tomorrow morning we are going to meet for breakfast in the hotel then head to a storage locker that all of his grandmother's belongings are in. The family had a chance yesterday to take what they wanted and everything that didn't go is going to a local charity. We took a china hutch (goodbye horrible Ikea buffet!) and a dresser that I will paint and use for the baby's room (or not paint and still use in the baby's room). Once we are done at the storage locker we are going to load up Kea with my mother-in-law and send her back to Belfair and her acreage where she can run and run and run some more. When we pick her up after she's been there for a few days she is the most mellow little lab. Her wiggle power is greatly depleted after Gordy has a week of throwing the ball with her and long walks with Mary Jo. When Gordy's granddaughters are out MacKenzie and the dog both get worn out. I'm surprised MacKenzie hasn't worn out her right arm with all the tennis balls she throws for the dog.
Maybe I'll give another update later on if we have wireless Internet where we are staying. Right now I think I need to sneak down to the dining room to grab something to eat before we all meet at 8 since I'm starving! The kid is burning up food faster and faster these days.
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Friday, July 27, 2007
Blame it on Baby Brain
I hear a lot of talk about pregnant women being forgetful. It's a great excuse for those of us who are forgetful in our non-gestational state. Ryan laughed when someone said I was so spacey because of the baby. He knows better.
So, I forgot to call Swell tonight. Sorry. After frantically tidying my work space and finishing up a few odds and ends I had to dash home and eat my oh-so delicious hummus platter that I had the foresight to order from Blue Willow catering at lunch time because I knew I would be too rushed after work to make anything healthy and fast food would be way too tempting and while scarfing down my hummus I had to finish reading my chapters in Organic God and wait for a woman from work to come and pick up my coffee table that was going to a garage sale to benefit a woman with cancer and who has no health insurance and I had to tidy up the house just a little to make it presentable to my girlfriends who know better than to expect a super neat house - but I can try anyway. All within a half an hour.
The coffee table was picked up, I ate half of my hummus and got 1/4 of the way through the last chapter of what I was to have read and I forgot to de-fur the house. Heather is allergic to cats and I normally sweep and take a lint brush to the couch and stuffed chair followed by a wipe down with a damp cloth. Poor Heather had a few sneezing episodes.
I gave the Taco joint one day to respond to my complaint about the fingernail in my drink. They failed. Tomorrow I will go in with cup in hand that has the fingernail taped to it to restaurant and let them know of the prize I found in my drink. I think having a pregnant woman at the counter talking about a fingernail in her drink cup should turn a few heads. I gave them a day to contact me which isn't that much time but when it's something as gross as this they should be a little bit more responsive.
Tomorrow promises to be another full day. Les Schwab at 8 for new brakes. I will have to hang out in Georgetown for an hour and a half while they work on the car unless Meg returns my call because she was going to meet me down there so we could go have coffee. It would be nice to see her and it sure beats hanging out in the Les Schwab waiting area and at the McDonald's across the parking lot. (This neighborhood is not such a fun place to be - very industrial with a lot of no-tell motels and fast food joints).
After I visit Mr. Schwab I get to go to a place and have the car's oil changed in a Jiffy. Then off to replace my cheap walking shoes that I left at Ryan's boss' house on Saturday at the company picnic in Port Orchard. (We went from there straight to a wedding on Fox Island). At least the shoes were cheap. And before I cross the bridge to go back to Beacon Hill - I have a little stop to make where I pick a bone about a fingernail.
After the bone picking I have to pack my bags for vacation, set the cats up with entirely too much food because Gwen is part pig and can't stop eating. She gets so fat when we are gone for more than a few days.
Ah! So much to do. And poor Ryan has even more to do. He's going into work early tomorrow so he can write some memos that have to go out before he can responsibly leave. He's bringing a work laptop with us so he can do some work while we are hanging out at the beach. That's actually not a bad idea because I plan on reading magazines, baby books, doing puzzles and doing a lot of sleeping. Oh, glorious sleep! I should head off to get some right now.
But first an update on Red Van Man turned Red Station Wagon Man.
He's gone. He hasn't been here in a couple of weeks.
Tonight Ryan saw a cop car across the street. We couldn't see who the cops were talking to but we think it was whoever was in the van on the corner almost out of our sight. We think our neighbors called the cops this time. See, the neighborhood isn't all that bad. Why tonight we had live Polka music to entertain us in our bible study. Nothing breaks the silence quite like a tuba solo.
So, I forgot to call Swell tonight. Sorry. After frantically tidying my work space and finishing up a few odds and ends I had to dash home and eat my oh-so delicious hummus platter that I had the foresight to order from Blue Willow catering at lunch time because I knew I would be too rushed after work to make anything healthy and fast food would be way too tempting and while scarfing down my hummus I had to finish reading my chapters in Organic God and wait for a woman from work to come and pick up my coffee table that was going to a garage sale to benefit a woman with cancer and who has no health insurance and I had to tidy up the house just a little to make it presentable to my girlfriends who know better than to expect a super neat house - but I can try anyway. All within a half an hour.
The coffee table was picked up, I ate half of my hummus and got 1/4 of the way through the last chapter of what I was to have read and I forgot to de-fur the house. Heather is allergic to cats and I normally sweep and take a lint brush to the couch and stuffed chair followed by a wipe down with a damp cloth. Poor Heather had a few sneezing episodes.
I gave the Taco joint one day to respond to my complaint about the fingernail in my drink. They failed. Tomorrow I will go in with cup in hand that has the fingernail taped to it to restaurant and let them know of the prize I found in my drink. I think having a pregnant woman at the counter talking about a fingernail in her drink cup should turn a few heads. I gave them a day to contact me which isn't that much time but when it's something as gross as this they should be a little bit more responsive.
Tomorrow promises to be another full day. Les Schwab at 8 for new brakes. I will have to hang out in Georgetown for an hour and a half while they work on the car unless Meg returns my call because she was going to meet me down there so we could go have coffee. It would be nice to see her and it sure beats hanging out in the Les Schwab waiting area and at the McDonald's across the parking lot. (This neighborhood is not such a fun place to be - very industrial with a lot of no-tell motels and fast food joints).
After I visit Mr. Schwab I get to go to a place and have the car's oil changed in a Jiffy. Then off to replace my cheap walking shoes that I left at Ryan's boss' house on Saturday at the company picnic in Port Orchard. (We went from there straight to a wedding on Fox Island). At least the shoes were cheap. And before I cross the bridge to go back to Beacon Hill - I have a little stop to make where I pick a bone about a fingernail.
After the bone picking I have to pack my bags for vacation, set the cats up with entirely too much food because Gwen is part pig and can't stop eating. She gets so fat when we are gone for more than a few days.
Ah! So much to do. And poor Ryan has even more to do. He's going into work early tomorrow so he can write some memos that have to go out before he can responsibly leave. He's bringing a work laptop with us so he can do some work while we are hanging out at the beach. That's actually not a bad idea because I plan on reading magazines, baby books, doing puzzles and doing a lot of sleeping. Oh, glorious sleep! I should head off to get some right now.
But first an update on Red Van Man turned Red Station Wagon Man.
He's gone. He hasn't been here in a couple of weeks.
Tonight Ryan saw a cop car across the street. We couldn't see who the cops were talking to but we think it was whoever was in the van on the corner almost out of our sight. We think our neighbors called the cops this time. See, the neighborhood isn't all that bad. Why tonight we had live Polka music to entertain us in our bible study. Nothing breaks the silence quite like a tuba solo.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Eew!
Eew as in yelch, yuck, gross, gag.
What's so gross you ask?
It was lunch time. Yep. The grossness involves food. The food establishment shall remain nameless but I wanted a TACO at lunch TIME. I ate my chicken soft taco (no sour cream if my midwife is reading this - just salsa) and mexifries (hopefully my midwife can't read small print) then I took my ice tea with an extra lemon wedge (their wedges are tiny, stingy passer outers of lemon they are) and went back to the office where I continued to nurse on my slightly bitter beverage. I sucked up small bits of ice and crunched them as I'm not allowed to chew on ice when Ryan's around and I sucked lemon seeds and swallowed them no problem.
Re-cap: Taco was delicious even though it had an accident on my dress. Mexifries were so-so and (spoiler alert) thus far the ice tea was well, ice tea. What's the problem?
When I reached the last bit of ice tea I sucked up a seed, some ice and something? Uh, I don't know. It wasn't hard, it wasn't crunchy and it wasn't slippery like a lemon seed so I promptly spit it out in my hand. It was part of a fingernail!!!
Insert shocking dooh-dooh-dooh music here.
What do you do with that? I showed it to an agent in the office to ask what they thought it was. She identified it as a fingernail with clean edges as if it were clipped. So I went on-line and sent in a complaint and if they don't respond by tomorrow I'm going take the fingernail I taped to the cup into the restaurant and ... I don't know.
What's so gross you ask?
It was lunch time. Yep. The grossness involves food. The food establishment shall remain nameless but I wanted a TACO at lunch TIME. I ate my chicken soft taco (no sour cream if my midwife is reading this - just salsa) and mexifries (hopefully my midwife can't read small print) then I took my ice tea with an extra lemon wedge (their wedges are tiny, stingy passer outers of lemon they are) and went back to the office where I continued to nurse on my slightly bitter beverage. I sucked up small bits of ice and crunched them as I'm not allowed to chew on ice when Ryan's around and I sucked lemon seeds and swallowed them no problem.
Re-cap: Taco was delicious even though it had an accident on my dress. Mexifries were so-so and (spoiler alert) thus far the ice tea was well, ice tea. What's the problem?
When I reached the last bit of ice tea I sucked up a seed, some ice and something? Uh, I don't know. It wasn't hard, it wasn't crunchy and it wasn't slippery like a lemon seed so I promptly spit it out in my hand. It was part of a fingernail!!!
Insert shocking dooh-dooh-dooh music here.
What do you do with that? I showed it to an agent in the office to ask what they thought it was. She identified it as a fingernail with clean edges as if it were clipped. So I went on-line and sent in a complaint and if they don't respond by tomorrow I'm going take the fingernail I taped to the cup into the restaurant and ... I don't know.
Monday, July 16, 2007
It's finally here!
After 2 months of sheer exhaustion, 6 months of a pea sized bladder, 2 months of swollen feet and ankles turned tree trunks and 2 months of aches the thing I've been looking forward to has arrived.
It's long awaited arrival came unannounced, no fan fare, no trumpets trumpeting but it's arrival was beautiful. Nesting arrived. It would have just been an itch to clean but I warded off sleepiness and only took one nap today! Since I've been preggo I take two naps on Saturdays and two naps on Sundays. In the first trimester I spent most of the weekends sleeping - more time was spent asleep than awake. Ah, the joys of pregnancy.
It hit me very late on Saturday while Ryan was asleep and I was enjoying my icy foot soak too much to go to bed. I watched a Law & Order re-run and an old Oprah. I didn't watch Oprah this year but still had TiVo record it. Too many celebrities for my taste. After scanning the list of O re-runs I saw one that looked decent - the host of Clean Sweep was on. They showed us a home that was filled with clutter, top to bottom and they cleaned it out in one weekend. Our house is nothing like theirs but our closets are like little sadistic little demons, but what demon isn't sadistic? They call out to me from behind closed doors, "I'm a mess and there's nothing you can do about it."
Today I faced the big box of stuff that accumulated when I would 'clean' before company came over. You know, the box of stuff. You sweep, clean the kitchen, take care of the clothes that have been folded on the kitchen table for a week and before you know it - it's time for your guests to arrive. All of the little things need someplace to go and you have no time to make 8 trips to the basement, 4 to the foyer, 5 to the bedroom and so on. What to do? Gather up all the scattered items and put them in a box to 'take care' after the company leaves.
It's been a year and a half in this house. When this horrible practice started we were in the construction phase so the stuff in the boxes (2 boxes) is quite an assortment. Spackle, pens, stationary, photos, magazines. Gag. It's no wonder I've put it off. But no more!
I threw away, recycled actually, a year's worth of Real Simple and Realtor magazines. That felt good. I was never going to read them again. I cleaned out the linen/game/cleaners/catch all storage closet and made it into games/linens/toiletries. Woo-hoo. Goodwill is going to get a big box of linens and the landfill is going to get a ton of expired medicine. Ryan can not get a head ache or fall ill because we have no medicine for him. I even threw out old cosmetics that I don't use. Break through! My sister-in-law Jenny would be so proud of the progress I made.
When I was done throwing away stuff and putting it into Goodwill piles I was still itching to make a dent in our Pile 'O Stuff so I went to one last closet - the closet in the baby's room. There was my treasure trove of purses. If you know me you know I have a weak spot for purses. It is actually a surprising addiction because if you know me you also know I'm not a fashionista, not a girly girl. Growing up I despised the purse. I vowed I would never use one.
Then on one fateful day at the Vancouver mall, in a shoe store where I was buying a pair of shoes for some special event I spied a sales bin. In that sales bin was the purse that bit me and gave me the purse bug. It was a super cool black 50's (or earlier) style purse with a small handle and hard sides. The style has a name but I can't think of it. I used that purse for many years but the strap finally broke and was not repairable. It was such a cool purse that even guys would comment on it. (In hindsight they were probably trying to hit on me but I was so in love with my purse that I didn't think it unnatural that a straight guy would like it). It was with heavy heart I threw my much beloved purse away (many, many years after it broke, of course).
Now when we go on vacation I commemorate our trip not with a silver spoon or a T-shirt with the name of the place we visited on it but rather with a purse. In Maui I bought a coconut purse - it is a coconut sawed in half, lined with a Hawaiian print cloth and has a zipper and long strap. Great for luaus. In Tulsa (not a place to commemorate visiting but a great excuse to buy a purse), I bought a super cute and super feisty leopard print number. Vegas, Mexico, the Caribbean and Italy. I have a purse to remember each trip by.
So it came as a great shock to Ryan when I came out of the baby's room loaded with purses I no longer used. It was time to say goodbye and let move on to new shoulders. He is very concerned about me getting rid of them; he wants me to be absolutely certain I want to get rid of them because as he said, "Purses are your thing." It makes him sad to see me part with something I like so much. I'm only getting rid of one souvenir purse - bye bye leopard print from Tulsa. It was actually a good trip. I got to see my brother graduate from bible college, went to the Roy Rogers museum, another religious university (super ugly school, I'm not a fan of 60's/70's style architecture) and a really depressing museum of Christian martrys. The purse was from his school and I have no attachment to that school so sayonara!
Oh, boy, it's 5:30 am. I'm getting drowsy again. I woke up at 3:00 with "Sloopy" the oldies song blaring in my head. I couldn't find the off switch so I crawled out of bed and cleaned the kitchen, ate a nectarine and cut up strawberries to surprise Ryan with for his cereal in the morning. I'm hungry again. I'll grab another little something to eat and go back to bed for a couple of hours.
It's long awaited arrival came unannounced, no fan fare, no trumpets trumpeting but it's arrival was beautiful. Nesting arrived. It would have just been an itch to clean but I warded off sleepiness and only took one nap today! Since I've been preggo I take two naps on Saturdays and two naps on Sundays. In the first trimester I spent most of the weekends sleeping - more time was spent asleep than awake. Ah, the joys of pregnancy.
It hit me very late on Saturday while Ryan was asleep and I was enjoying my icy foot soak too much to go to bed. I watched a Law & Order re-run and an old Oprah. I didn't watch Oprah this year but still had TiVo record it. Too many celebrities for my taste. After scanning the list of O re-runs I saw one that looked decent - the host of Clean Sweep was on. They showed us a home that was filled with clutter, top to bottom and they cleaned it out in one weekend. Our house is nothing like theirs but our closets are like little sadistic little demons, but what demon isn't sadistic? They call out to me from behind closed doors, "I'm a mess and there's nothing you can do about it."
Today I faced the big box of stuff that accumulated when I would 'clean' before company came over. You know, the box of stuff. You sweep, clean the kitchen, take care of the clothes that have been folded on the kitchen table for a week and before you know it - it's time for your guests to arrive. All of the little things need someplace to go and you have no time to make 8 trips to the basement, 4 to the foyer, 5 to the bedroom and so on. What to do? Gather up all the scattered items and put them in a box to 'take care' after the company leaves.
It's been a year and a half in this house. When this horrible practice started we were in the construction phase so the stuff in the boxes (2 boxes) is quite an assortment. Spackle, pens, stationary, photos, magazines. Gag. It's no wonder I've put it off. But no more!
I threw away, recycled actually, a year's worth of Real Simple and Realtor magazines. That felt good. I was never going to read them again. I cleaned out the linen/game/cleaners/catch all storage closet and made it into games/linens/toiletries. Woo-hoo. Goodwill is going to get a big box of linens and the landfill is going to get a ton of expired medicine. Ryan can not get a head ache or fall ill because we have no medicine for him. I even threw out old cosmetics that I don't use. Break through! My sister-in-law Jenny would be so proud of the progress I made.
When I was done throwing away stuff and putting it into Goodwill piles I was still itching to make a dent in our Pile 'O Stuff so I went to one last closet - the closet in the baby's room. There was my treasure trove of purses. If you know me you know I have a weak spot for purses. It is actually a surprising addiction because if you know me you also know I'm not a fashionista, not a girly girl. Growing up I despised the purse. I vowed I would never use one.
Then on one fateful day at the Vancouver mall, in a shoe store where I was buying a pair of shoes for some special event I spied a sales bin. In that sales bin was the purse that bit me and gave me the purse bug. It was a super cool black 50's (or earlier) style purse with a small handle and hard sides. The style has a name but I can't think of it. I used that purse for many years but the strap finally broke and was not repairable. It was such a cool purse that even guys would comment on it. (In hindsight they were probably trying to hit on me but I was so in love with my purse that I didn't think it unnatural that a straight guy would like it). It was with heavy heart I threw my much beloved purse away (many, many years after it broke, of course).
Now when we go on vacation I commemorate our trip not with a silver spoon or a T-shirt with the name of the place we visited on it but rather with a purse. In Maui I bought a coconut purse - it is a coconut sawed in half, lined with a Hawaiian print cloth and has a zipper and long strap. Great for luaus. In Tulsa (not a place to commemorate visiting but a great excuse to buy a purse), I bought a super cute and super feisty leopard print number. Vegas, Mexico, the Caribbean and Italy. I have a purse to remember each trip by.
So it came as a great shock to Ryan when I came out of the baby's room loaded with purses I no longer used. It was time to say goodbye and let move on to new shoulders. He is very concerned about me getting rid of them; he wants me to be absolutely certain I want to get rid of them because as he said, "Purses are your thing." It makes him sad to see me part with something I like so much. I'm only getting rid of one souvenir purse - bye bye leopard print from Tulsa. It was actually a good trip. I got to see my brother graduate from bible college, went to the Roy Rogers museum, another religious university (super ugly school, I'm not a fan of 60's/70's style architecture) and a really depressing museum of Christian martrys. The purse was from his school and I have no attachment to that school so sayonara!
Oh, boy, it's 5:30 am. I'm getting drowsy again. I woke up at 3:00 with "Sloopy" the oldies song blaring in my head. I couldn't find the off switch so I crawled out of bed and cleaned the kitchen, ate a nectarine and cut up strawberries to surprise Ryan with for his cereal in the morning. I'm hungry again. I'll grab another little something to eat and go back to bed for a couple of hours.
Friday, July 13, 2007
Bleeding Ears
Today is the first day of West Seattle Summer Fest, a.k.a. the West Seattle Street Fair. The festival is on the street right in front of my office. Food, vendors, dogs and children; merriment all around to be had. I ate a so-so beef brisket sandwich at lunch; the gyros looked much better but they had a line and I was short on time. Maybe I should go to the stands with the longest lines; they probably have the best food.
After I scarfed my sandwich 'o meat I waddled back to the office and climbed in my car to head home to let the dog out. I managed to get 15 minutes of sleep in. That was great but way too short. I awoke sleepy and grumpy (for giggles the dog destroyed my new lime green mechanical pencils that were still in their packaging that I bought on sale) and it was time to go finish the other half of my shift.
When I arrived back at work the 'entertainment' part of the Fest had begun. The north sound stage is a stone's throw from our office. Hm, a stone's throw. Maybe I could take the lead singer out. It's bad. Really bad. You could give a physics lesson on sound waves with this band they are so out of key. Coming back to work in a less than peppy mood only to be met with the horrible sounds of "Capping Day" - a band for whom I do not predict great things - has NOT helped my mood. It is like being subjected to American Idol auditions, live.
Ah, they just took a break. I'll go clean the blood out of my ears now.
After I scarfed my sandwich 'o meat I waddled back to the office and climbed in my car to head home to let the dog out. I managed to get 15 minutes of sleep in. That was great but way too short. I awoke sleepy and grumpy (for giggles the dog destroyed my new lime green mechanical pencils that were still in their packaging that I bought on sale) and it was time to go finish the other half of my shift.
When I arrived back at work the 'entertainment' part of the Fest had begun. The north sound stage is a stone's throw from our office. Hm, a stone's throw. Maybe I could take the lead singer out. It's bad. Really bad. You could give a physics lesson on sound waves with this band they are so out of key. Coming back to work in a less than peppy mood only to be met with the horrible sounds of "Capping Day" - a band for whom I do not predict great things - has NOT helped my mood. It is like being subjected to American Idol auditions, live.
Ah, they just took a break. I'll go clean the blood out of my ears now.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Blessed and Angry
For about a month now I've been trying to get in to see a massage therapist under my health care plan. Pregnancy and the growth that occurs with it has not agreed with me. My back will spasm just for the heck of it on a short walk, while sitting at my desk - any time it feels like it really. It's not such a great feeling. Sure it is not the worst pain I've ever experienced but it is frequent enough and I imagine only going to get worse as my front load grows ever larger that I would like to have some sort of intervention since drugs are obviously out of the question.
Hence I contacted my insurance company and was Delighted (I was so delighted it called for a capital 'D') to learn massage therapy was covered. Then I was pleased to learn my midwife could make the referral which would save me the hassle of calling my primary's office and leaving a message for her who would leave a message for the referral coordinator to make the referral. I just had to call my midwife or shoot her an e-mail and wa-lah - massage therapy benefits are activated! A week later I see my midwife who is stumped, as is the office staff, at PacifiCare. They were told on one phone call that the midwife can not make the referral that only the primary can. One another call they were told that I didn't have coverage for that benefit. So I said to not worry about it, I would just call my primary's office and make the request.
Request goes in. A week later I receive a notice that the referral has been generated and is to a Massage Therapist in Burien, not West Seattle as I had requested and it had a curious stamp on it that said pre-authorization was not required (red flag - but I'll get to that later); the referral was for the same person who worked in a clinic that had two locations. I called PacifiCare to make sure I could see the SAME provider at the SAME clinic but at the West Seattle branch. No, that was just not acceptable. The doctor would have to submit a new referral for the West Seattle clinic, never mind it is the same clinic! I called two more times and asked the same question and got a different answer. Two of the three people told me I could go to either clinic so I wrote down each of their names, the date and time I called just so I have some back up if all three were wrong and PacifiCare tries to be shysters about paying. I also learned on that call that PacifiCare didn't receive the referral but that it takes up to 10 days for it to be processed. So I wait a week and call back but in the mean time I called my primary's office to make sure the referral was sent to PacifiCare. The receptionist at my primary's office assured me it had been sent.
Monday rolls around and I call PacifiCare after waiting a sufficient amount of time for the paper work to be processed. They still had not received the referral. Lame. I called my primary's office and leave a message for the referral coordinator telling her that PacifiCare needs the referral. Tuesday afternoon I call the referral coordinator and leave another message asking her to return yesterday's call. She called back after a few hours to tell me she didn't send the referral to PacifiCare because they never require pre-authorization for Massage Therapy. Great. I'm the one exception to the rule. I told her the last person I talked to heaved out our benefits manual and read to me the part about needing pre-authorization. Referral Coordinator apologized and said she would call PC and get it taken care of. Goodie.
This morning RC calls. PacifiCare told her to contact the ASHS group of alternative health care providers to submit the request. ASHS then tells RC that their contract with PC ended June 30th (even I knew that). Jackasses, the whole lot of them at PC! Through the magic of the Internet I found the phone number for the newly contracted group of Alternative Health Care Providers and give it to the RC who by the way earns every cent of her wage because she has to deal with insurance companies and the drones they hire.
Receive a call a few hours later from RC. No referral is needed. Not from the doctor, not from the Massage Therapist and no pre-authorization is required. PacifiCare does not enter the loop until AFTER the first visit with the MT! You've got to be freakin' kidding me!!! It took a month to get to that answer?! And, I just found out that the MT has to contact PC after the first visit to get pre-authorization for continuing visits.
Then I got to start the wonderful journey of finding a provider in Seattle who was in the American Chiropractic Network that accepted PacifiCare that provided prenatal massage that had hours I could work with.
Being the dork that I am and growing ever more so into one thanks to Ryan, I did my new favorite thing and made an excel spreadsheet. Watch out folks, April knows how to have a good time! On said spreadsheet I put in all of the providers and make room for their hours. Everyone was regular business hours. Then something glorious happened... a provider offered appointments until 8pm! I was so excited I said, "No! 8pm? That's great! What do you have this Friday evening?" "By the way, I have PacifiCare." The whole group dumped PacifiCare last year! PacifiCare is such a pain in the proverbial posterior that the providers dump them. No one has gotten around to taking their name off the approved provider list. It was so sad I almost cried.
Fortunately I found someone who is willing to stay late and see me after work but she can't squeeze me in for 2 more weeks. Do I go during work and go through the hassle of finding someone to cover my shift for an hour and a half or suffer for 2 more weeks?
I pretty well covered the angry part, so much hassle for a service we pay for, now the blessed part. I remember the day back in college when I was on my parent's insurance that covered major medical illnesses that was only good if you were hit by a car or had a brain tumor. The blessed part is pretty simple and obvious. I have health insurance. Health insurance that not only covers seeing the doctor with $10 co-pays and prescription benefits but I have insurance that covers massage therapy. The whole labor and delivery and all of my prenatal visits are only going to cost us $50. $50! That's a one time co-pay. How unreal is that? Sure Ryan has to pay a portion of his insurance deductible for himself and for me - and soon little Jermaine but that's still one heck of a deal.
This may not be the most exciting read of my posts but it sure has been therapeutic writing it all down, especially when I put it in perspective at the end. It's a headache worth having.
Hence I contacted my insurance company and was Delighted (I was so delighted it called for a capital 'D') to learn massage therapy was covered. Then I was pleased to learn my midwife could make the referral which would save me the hassle of calling my primary's office and leaving a message for her who would leave a message for the referral coordinator to make the referral. I just had to call my midwife or shoot her an e-mail and wa-lah - massage therapy benefits are activated! A week later I see my midwife who is stumped, as is the office staff, at PacifiCare. They were told on one phone call that the midwife can not make the referral that only the primary can. One another call they were told that I didn't have coverage for that benefit. So I said to not worry about it, I would just call my primary's office and make the request.
Request goes in. A week later I receive a notice that the referral has been generated and is to a Massage Therapist in Burien, not West Seattle as I had requested and it had a curious stamp on it that said pre-authorization was not required (red flag - but I'll get to that later); the referral was for the same person who worked in a clinic that had two locations. I called PacifiCare to make sure I could see the SAME provider at the SAME clinic but at the West Seattle branch. No, that was just not acceptable. The doctor would have to submit a new referral for the West Seattle clinic, never mind it is the same clinic! I called two more times and asked the same question and got a different answer. Two of the three people told me I could go to either clinic so I wrote down each of their names, the date and time I called just so I have some back up if all three were wrong and PacifiCare tries to be shysters about paying. I also learned on that call that PacifiCare didn't receive the referral but that it takes up to 10 days for it to be processed. So I wait a week and call back but in the mean time I called my primary's office to make sure the referral was sent to PacifiCare. The receptionist at my primary's office assured me it had been sent.
Monday rolls around and I call PacifiCare after waiting a sufficient amount of time for the paper work to be processed. They still had not received the referral. Lame. I called my primary's office and leave a message for the referral coordinator telling her that PacifiCare needs the referral. Tuesday afternoon I call the referral coordinator and leave another message asking her to return yesterday's call. She called back after a few hours to tell me she didn't send the referral to PacifiCare because they never require pre-authorization for Massage Therapy. Great. I'm the one exception to the rule. I told her the last person I talked to heaved out our benefits manual and read to me the part about needing pre-authorization. Referral Coordinator apologized and said she would call PC and get it taken care of. Goodie.
This morning RC calls. PacifiCare told her to contact the ASHS group of alternative health care providers to submit the request. ASHS then tells RC that their contract with PC ended June 30th (even I knew that). Jackasses, the whole lot of them at PC! Through the magic of the Internet I found the phone number for the newly contracted group of Alternative Health Care Providers and give it to the RC who by the way earns every cent of her wage because she has to deal with insurance companies and the drones they hire.
Receive a call a few hours later from RC. No referral is needed. Not from the doctor, not from the Massage Therapist and no pre-authorization is required. PacifiCare does not enter the loop until AFTER the first visit with the MT! You've got to be freakin' kidding me!!! It took a month to get to that answer?! And, I just found out that the MT has to contact PC after the first visit to get pre-authorization for continuing visits.
Then I got to start the wonderful journey of finding a provider in Seattle who was in the American Chiropractic Network that accepted PacifiCare that provided prenatal massage that had hours I could work with.
Being the dork that I am and growing ever more so into one thanks to Ryan, I did my new favorite thing and made an excel spreadsheet. Watch out folks, April knows how to have a good time! On said spreadsheet I put in all of the providers and make room for their hours. Everyone was regular business hours. Then something glorious happened... a provider offered appointments until 8pm! I was so excited I said, "No! 8pm? That's great! What do you have this Friday evening?" "By the way, I have PacifiCare." The whole group dumped PacifiCare last year! PacifiCare is such a pain in the proverbial posterior that the providers dump them. No one has gotten around to taking their name off the approved provider list. It was so sad I almost cried.
Fortunately I found someone who is willing to stay late and see me after work but she can't squeeze me in for 2 more weeks. Do I go during work and go through the hassle of finding someone to cover my shift for an hour and a half or suffer for 2 more weeks?
I pretty well covered the angry part, so much hassle for a service we pay for, now the blessed part. I remember the day back in college when I was on my parent's insurance that covered major medical illnesses that was only good if you were hit by a car or had a brain tumor. The blessed part is pretty simple and obvious. I have health insurance. Health insurance that not only covers seeing the doctor with $10 co-pays and prescription benefits but I have insurance that covers massage therapy. The whole labor and delivery and all of my prenatal visits are only going to cost us $50. $50! That's a one time co-pay. How unreal is that? Sure Ryan has to pay a portion of his insurance deductible for himself and for me - and soon little Jermaine but that's still one heck of a deal.
This may not be the most exciting read of my posts but it sure has been therapeutic writing it all down, especially when I put it in perspective at the end. It's a headache worth having.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Just call me Homer
Yeah, you know what that means. It was entirely too hot today for a lot of clothes; it was over 90 and tomorrow is going to be at least 95. The house was well over 80 inside before I cooked dinner and really heated up the house. After eating dinner and washing the dishes I thought I would just sit down and put my hideously swollen feet up. Way too hot. I headed into the bedroom and put on a plain white t and headed into the living room. (By the way, the Plain White Ts is a great band - check out their song "Delilah"). I rounded the corner into the living room to present myself to Ryan to make sure he was cool with me hanging out - pun intended - in my T-shirt and undies. He laughed and said he didn't care. What do you know? Wearing as little as a lady can get away with (who is slowly becoming uncivilized and very un-lady like) worked! I cooled down enough that I had to get up and put on more clothes.
That was last night. Today is a little hotter and by a little I mean a lot; 7 degrees makes a big difference. Sure those of you reading this in Georgia or Okla -gag- homa - I can't even write it without shuddering- may be poo-poohing my complaints about the heat because you are in searing heat with humidity to match. Well, that sucks for you that you have to live in the South. We in the majestic Northwest are accustomed to pleasant 70 degree summers (and wet, wet, wet winters but that is what gives us our glorious greenery and it is not pertinent to my whining of the extreme heat we are having) and when the mercury - or whatever they use in thermometers these days - rises above 80 we wither and retreat to the air-conditioned spaces like Starbucks with their burnt coffee and pleasant atmosphere while the younger crowd has a different way to beat the heat. Scantily clad hoochie mamas head to Alki beach to entice the gang-bangin' wannabes trying to get their 'wazzup' on to yell all sorts of 'flattering' comments at them from their low-riding cars that match their low riding pants in an effort to hook up and swap diseases transmitted through bodily fluids. Then there are the super young kids (junior high) who look up to the hoochie mamas and gang-bangin' wannabes in their rituals of courtship and learn how to relate to the opposite sex. Scary. Their parents really should keep a better eye on them.
In other news from Van Row - Red Van Man is now Red Station Wagon man. Last week I saw him across the street sitting on the grass under the shade of a young tree eating lunch. A woman and gaggle of kids walking on the sidewalk passed him and crossed the grassy strip to the van. She had opened the passenger door and the gaggle of kids filed in. She walked around, looked at me - not a look to concern me - just looked, and climbed into the drivers seat. That's the last I've seen of the red van but not the last I've seen of Red Van man, now Red Station Wagon Man. His comings and goings are less regular since the red van was whisked away by the woman and gaggle of kids but he's still a familiar site. I must say I prefer the van. He was not at eye level when I was getting in and out of my car. It kind of makes me feel like a dog that I don't like making eye contact with him. When Kea has been a naughty dog (which she frequently is) she will not make eye contact and when she does it is fleeting - as if she is testing the water. Well, I digress yet again. There's actually not much more to say about Station Wagon man. He showed up at 4 am today and was gone when I got up but was back at his post when I left for work. At lunch time when I went home his car was there, minus him, with the drivers side window rolled down. I guess he didn't want to hang out in a car that was baking in the sun all day - maybe he was lying down in the back.
Stay cool and stay tuned for a story about my insurance company that will make your blood boil - or at least sympathize with my state of boiling blood. : )
That was last night. Today is a little hotter and by a little I mean a lot; 7 degrees makes a big difference. Sure those of you reading this in Georgia or Okla -gag- homa - I can't even write it without shuddering- may be poo-poohing my complaints about the heat because you are in searing heat with humidity to match. Well, that sucks for you that you have to live in the South. We in the majestic Northwest are accustomed to pleasant 70 degree summers (and wet, wet, wet winters but that is what gives us our glorious greenery and it is not pertinent to my whining of the extreme heat we are having) and when the mercury - or whatever they use in thermometers these days - rises above 80 we wither and retreat to the air-conditioned spaces like Starbucks with their burnt coffee and pleasant atmosphere while the younger crowd has a different way to beat the heat. Scantily clad hoochie mamas head to Alki beach to entice the gang-bangin' wannabes trying to get their 'wazzup' on to yell all sorts of 'flattering' comments at them from their low-riding cars that match their low riding pants in an effort to hook up and swap diseases transmitted through bodily fluids. Then there are the super young kids (junior high) who look up to the hoochie mamas and gang-bangin' wannabes in their rituals of courtship and learn how to relate to the opposite sex. Scary. Their parents really should keep a better eye on them.
In other news from Van Row - Red Van Man is now Red Station Wagon man. Last week I saw him across the street sitting on the grass under the shade of a young tree eating lunch. A woman and gaggle of kids walking on the sidewalk passed him and crossed the grassy strip to the van. She had opened the passenger door and the gaggle of kids filed in. She walked around, looked at me - not a look to concern me - just looked, and climbed into the drivers seat. That's the last I've seen of the red van but not the last I've seen of Red Van man, now Red Station Wagon Man. His comings and goings are less regular since the red van was whisked away by the woman and gaggle of kids but he's still a familiar site. I must say I prefer the van. He was not at eye level when I was getting in and out of my car. It kind of makes me feel like a dog that I don't like making eye contact with him. When Kea has been a naughty dog (which she frequently is) she will not make eye contact and when she does it is fleeting - as if she is testing the water. Well, I digress yet again. There's actually not much more to say about Station Wagon man. He showed up at 4 am today and was gone when I got up but was back at his post when I left for work. At lunch time when I went home his car was there, minus him, with the drivers side window rolled down. I guess he didn't want to hang out in a car that was baking in the sun all day - maybe he was lying down in the back.
Stay cool and stay tuned for a story about my insurance company that will make your blood boil - or at least sympathize with my state of boiling blood. : )
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
One Glorious Hour
What could put me in such a great mood? Leaving work one hour early. There is a big difference between leaving at 5pm and leaving at 6pm (the difference is even greater in Autumn and Winter but I'll take it anyway I can get it). I have big plans.
1. Play with Kea; it's a lot more fun for her than it is for me. I just stand there and throw the ball while she runs like the retriever she is to retrieve the ball.
2. Change out of this dress! It's a super cute maternity dress but I've been in it all day. Exciting stuff.
3. Clean out my future Outdoor Living Room space. I am going to haul out the old rusted round table that is in there now (left by the previous owner) and scrub it with hard bristle scrubber and soapy water. Then I'm going to spray paint it (while wearing a mask - outdoors, ventilation doesn't get much better than that).
4. Bake the summer pasta dish I made a couple of weeks ago and froze for a time when I didn't want to cook (which is often).
*********
Well, it is 8:34 in the evening and what have I done with my one extra glorious hour?
1. I played with the dog until she petered out. I kind of like the hot weather because she quits chasing the ball much sooner. She can't pant really hard and keep a tennis ball in her mouth - it really impedes the retrieving of the ball.
2. I'm still in my dress but see #3.
3. Instead of cleaning the rusty old table I botched some puzzles while lying in bed in my wife beater tank top (dress was off briefly but went back on - see#4) and took a nap with our over sized ceiling fan cooling me off (thanks to Ryan for turning on the ceiling fan after snickering upon seeing me in said wife beater on the bed with the blankets all piled on his side and my Buddha belly hanging out of my tank top; attractive, I know.
4. Partook of summer pasta dish that I took out of the freezer that Ryan cooked while I was napping in my half naked state of hotness - purely a statement of my thermal being - since it has been established that a half naked pregnant lady may be cute as in the way a kitten is cute she is not 'hot' in that miserable state. I put my nifty maternity dress back on to eat dinner in the living room as I'm a cilivilzed woman; I'm no Homer Simpson, I'm not going to eat dinner in my underoos. Ooh, they should make underoos for adults. I used to love my underoos. I think I had Wonder Woman underoos; yeah, I was super cool.
Tomorrow is Independence Day. We're going to a barbecue my friend Jenn is hosting in Magnolia - I haven't spent much time with her lately so it will be nice to see her and as a bonus the location should have a decent view of the fireworks. I don't know what side dish to bring to share. Maybe caprese salad - but that is mess to make. Maybe I'll 'make' potato salad from Metropolitan Market. Yes, I like that idea.
Hope everyone has a safe 4th of July .
1. Play with Kea; it's a lot more fun for her than it is for me. I just stand there and throw the ball while she runs like the retriever she is to retrieve the ball.
2. Change out of this dress! It's a super cute maternity dress but I've been in it all day. Exciting stuff.
3. Clean out my future Outdoor Living Room space. I am going to haul out the old rusted round table that is in there now (left by the previous owner) and scrub it with hard bristle scrubber and soapy water. Then I'm going to spray paint it (while wearing a mask - outdoors, ventilation doesn't get much better than that).
4. Bake the summer pasta dish I made a couple of weeks ago and froze for a time when I didn't want to cook (which is often).
*********
Well, it is 8:34 in the evening and what have I done with my one extra glorious hour?
1. I played with the dog until she petered out. I kind of like the hot weather because she quits chasing the ball much sooner. She can't pant really hard and keep a tennis ball in her mouth - it really impedes the retrieving of the ball.
2. I'm still in my dress but see #3.
3. Instead of cleaning the rusty old table I botched some puzzles while lying in bed in my wife beater tank top (dress was off briefly but went back on - see#4) and took a nap with our over sized ceiling fan cooling me off (thanks to Ryan for turning on the ceiling fan after snickering upon seeing me in said wife beater on the bed with the blankets all piled on his side and my Buddha belly hanging out of my tank top; attractive, I know.
4. Partook of summer pasta dish that I took out of the freezer that Ryan cooked while I was napping in my half naked state of hotness - purely a statement of my thermal being - since it has been established that a half naked pregnant lady may be cute as in the way a kitten is cute she is not 'hot' in that miserable state. I put my nifty maternity dress back on to eat dinner in the living room as I'm a cilivilzed woman; I'm no Homer Simpson, I'm not going to eat dinner in my underoos. Ooh, they should make underoos for adults. I used to love my underoos. I think I had Wonder Woman underoos; yeah, I was super cool.
Tomorrow is Independence Day. We're going to a barbecue my friend Jenn is hosting in Magnolia - I haven't spent much time with her lately so it will be nice to see her and as a bonus the location should have a decent view of the fireworks. I don't know what side dish to bring to share. Maybe caprese salad - but that is mess to make. Maybe I'll 'make' potato salad from Metropolitan Market. Yes, I like that idea.
Hope everyone has a safe 4th of July .
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