I'm so sick of it all.

I think this is it

I have loved blogging. I have met wonderful people, both virtually and physically. Actually, I think that my blogroll may have saved me during some very troubling times. I have found that the ability to write about what is going on inside me has been very healing. Then, the kindness and advice from the good people that have commented has often been a lifeline for me. It is pretty ironic that I got to blogging by following my Mr. What-if here, who is on most of your blogrolls, in fact. He's gone, and you all saved me. Life's ironies continue to amaze me.





I'd like to apologize for the depressing nature of my recent posts. I wish I could say I'll do better, but I think it will be a while before things brighten up.





Recently I posted about how I'm going to be completely alone on Thanksgiving. As many people may have predicted, it has caused a ridiculous family uproar. Somehow, my being sad that I will be alone, me venting about all of the childhood baggage that it stirred up inside me, and my supposedly twisted perception of the past created a family hoopla. My sister-in-law now thinks I don't like her. My brother is "keeping his distance" (a wonderful solution - abandon your sister who has abandonment issues), and my niece (and perhaps my sister, Doad) feel caught in the middle of the mess.





So, I opened my heart and soul up, allowed my family so peak inside, and I am now the family pariah. Fuck.





I've made this mistake over and over in my life, so why am I surprised?





Anyway, between my family rejecting me, the County is continuing to breathe down my neck, my not being able to find a job (more on that in a moment)... even I'm sick of my drama. I'm embarrassed to blog about my life, it is just such a freaking mess. I feel pathetic, and I don't do pathetic very well.





My kids continue to amaze me with their strength, their loving nature, their resilience, and brilliance. I have been blessed. The one and only dream I had as a child was to grow up, have a few kids, and a white picket fence type family. Now that I'm all grown up I have learned that the white picket fence type family is a tough one, but I got the kids. In the end, they are the dream come true. Thank God for them. If not for them, I don't know how I'd have the conviction to move forward.





On the job front, well... nothing. This is tough for a woman that used to measure her self worth by the number of promotions she earned and the dollars she brought home to spend. I never dreamed getting back to work would be so difficult. I applied for a cashier position at the local beverage establishment. I figured it would get me out there, and the discount on beverages would be a nice (and likely valuable, given my volume) perk. I figured they would be thrilled to have someone of my caliber. Wrong. First, the establishment eliminated me from the candidate pool just from reading my application (over qualified). Next, I walked in and I talked the manager into giving me an interview - just for holiday staff / part-time. I interviewed the next day with the wine manager. She made it sound like it was a done deal - just fill out the paperwork, they'd send it to the Home Office, and I would be called to get started. Guess what? They haven't called me back! I'm going to follow up, of course; as soon as I know I have the emotional strength to handle rejection, in case it comes to that. Honestly, I'm not sure I can take anymore rejection.





I blew off the County hearing regarding the problems on my property. I sent them a letter, told them I'm not healthy, I have no money for representation or property modifications, and that I was throwing myself on the mercy of the court when it comes to that. They threaten me with fines of $750 per day (since August 2007) and criminal charges. All for a wall that saved my neighbor's home from flood damage back in 2007. Figure that one out! Then, last week, that same neighbors' kid had a teen party where a gun was fired! My kids were outside! Holy crap! That wall may have to come down, but it will be over my dead body. It may have saved one of my kids or one of my animals from a stray bullet.





Freaking stupid desert rat people. This isn't the God Damned Wild West. Put your f'ing weed away and clean up over there. Shit.





I was starting to cope with all of this better and better, though. I realized that I was feeling worse and worse, so I got some help from my doctor. It worked! I was working on projects again, finishing up some loose ends on old stuff mostly. I had energy. I was moving forward and starting to feel better. I checked out how close I am to qualifying to take the CPA exam. I'm only 6 credits away, and I may even be able to replace the requirement with years of work experience! I figure there is always a market for bean counters, even though I thought those days were behind me. How could an MBA with a CPA not get a job that will support a family with three kids in college, right?





Then it all fell into pieces. I found out that my sister-in-law was devastated by my blog post and that my brother was not speaking with me. I find it almost amusing that I'm going to be completely alone on Thanksgiving, my brother's family will together, surrounded by family and friends, and I'm the bad guy because I'm feel sad. WTF? So, for survival purposes, I've decided that I'd rather be alone on Thanksgiving and make myself feel good about it, than have a battle with other people about who is the bigger victim. Shit, how stupid. The bigger victim? There's a role no one should want to fight for! So they win. I'm the shithead and they are my victims. Another option: It's all my dead Mom's fault. There. Done.





Here's what my life feels like. It feels like I'm a rat in a maze. I run down one path and hit a wall. I get back up, I turn, brush off, and run another direction. Walls, I keep hitting walls. Each time I hit one I injure myself a bit more. I'm running out of energy and I'm limping along. Fucking maze. I just want out of the fucking maze.





I've decided that I had better not blog anymore. I probably put myself out there too much. I do that all the time. I need to learn from my mistakes and stop letting people see so much of what is inside of me.





I can not stop reading your blogs, though. You are my friends. With few exceptions, my only friends. (God, I really am pathetic, huh?). I'll read and I'll comment on your blogs, if you don't mind. I just need to close up shop until I can post about my happy life and my new job. Otherwise this blog is just too depressing for all of us.





Thanks for reading, thanks for the comments, thanks for the support, thanks for the memories, and thanks to all that have had me on your blogroll. It has been an honor, and a fabulous lifeline.





Email me any time. It would be great to hear from you. Bubblesmail@qwest.net





Bye.





XXXO

On a lighter note

I didn't want to give the balloon family any more attention than they already have, but some things are just so funny you need to see them again.



I rarely watch YouTube videos, but the other day I wanted to see the 'Balloon Boy' interview from CNN again. I had seen it live, but wanted to see it again, just to examine the details with a hindsight perspective. I had a good laugh when I found the video, but it wasn't the video as much as it was several of the comments. There are so many funny and clever people out there!

Here's the video, which I know you must have seen, but it is worth checking out again - it's short. I particularly like :40 - :47, where the whole thing caves in, dad says, "Maaann", which must have scared that kid to death, and it stresses someone in the family so much that they soil their pants, or so it sounds...




My favorite comment from YouTube viewers was:



"Boy, his brothers Pigeon and Woodpecker must have been embarrassed!"



When I saw this video the first time I remember actually feeling embarrassed for them. Earlier in the day I expressed to one of the Things that it seemed a little "off" to me. I decided that I must be the world's biggest cynic, felt bad that I was so cynical, and continued watching. Then the interview. Hahahahahaha! Can you believe that those people actually thought they could count on their kids to pull that off? I mean, the whole thing is batshit crazy anyway, but to actually think that they could count on the Bird Boys to hold it together? Seriously?

It's great to have an 11 year old boy around. When the interview was live I called Thing 3 in the room, rewound the DVR, and showed it to him. Of course, Thing 3, an 11 year old boy, heard the fart above all else!



I can't help thinking of the wisdom my father shared with me. My dad was an auditor a good portion of his career. He caught a lot of people that thought they were smart enough to get away with being sneaky. My dad learned a lot from his work. He used to say that if you are going to do something sneaky there are a couple of rules:



First, always do it alone. When more than one person does something sneaky, the other person can be depended on to roll when times get tough. Count on it.



Second, he said that if you are going to steal something, make sure that it is BIG, because when you get caught it better have been worth it, the humiliation is the same either way.



Seems the balloon family could have used some of my dad's perspective. Nah... something tells me that you couldn't tell Balloon Dad anything. I'll bet he knows it all.

Carnage, regrets, and lessons

The other night I was watching TV and sipping a cold one, or maybe it was a glass of wine... I don't know. Thing 3 was playing computer or video games in his room, and the other Things were at swim practice.

I heard a scream outside, so I did what any mother would do, I yelled to my youngest child and told him that he better get out and close in the chickens because I heard something.

Thing 3: "What did you hear?"

Me, "I dunno, a scream I think."

Thing 3: "A scream?"

Me: "Yeah, you better check it out."

See, I'm a prime candidate for mother of the year, don't you think?

A few minutes later Thing 3 runs in the house with a pool cue stick in his hand.

"Mom, Mom, Mom, there are dead chickens everywhere! I saw something with glowing eyes that looked like a cat."

"Shit", says mom.

"Could be a bobcat", I theorized.

Thing 3 handed me a weapon, the second pool cue, and we both went out. Mind you, these are not full size sticks, they are for the mini table we got for Thing 3 last Christmas.

Outside it was awful. There were feathers and dying birds everywhere. It was heartbreaking. Nice, young, productive hens in their prime, laying there, some of them still breathing, some of them reflexively moving. Sickening.

I went into the coop where the damage was done. There were two birds in there that looked like they might be dead. I picked up one and it screamed in pain. It violently tried to get away from me. I put her into a nesting box and wondered if she would be alive in the morning. There was another bird in similar condition which I decided to leave alone. They were in shock. All the other birds were extremely quiet and sitting up on roosting poles.

It was dark out there, too. We had one flashlight and Thing 3 was walking around looking at the damage. He called me over.

"Mom, look."

Thing 3 was standing about 10 feet from the old trampoline. The trampoline has been decimated by the Arizona sun and needs to be taken apart and disposed of. It used to have a net enclosure, so it has tall poles that extend high in the air that were to support the enclosure. On top of one of the poles there was a great horned owl perched, watching us.

Whoa. Creeeeeepy! Creepy, yet amazing and magnificent. It was as if he was deciding if he should defend his kill, or as if he was proud that he did so much damage. He wasn't the least bit intimidated and he was staring right back at us.

Thing 3 has a temper, like his mom, and he was mad about his chickens, so he made a mean sound like an angry cat. With that, the owl turned and flew away. I would have liked to look him over a little longer... but at least we knew hoo did the damage. (heh, heh, sorry about that.)

The owl was HUGE! It was at least two feet tall, and when it flew its wing span had to be three feet wide! As I thought about it, we were probably lucky to get a good view of him so close.

Then our clean up began. I couldn't stand the thought of the predators returning and scavengers coming. The poor birds had been through enough terror for the night.

I found one glove in the darkness. I grabbed an empty feed bag from the trash and began collecting the dead. A couple of times I found birds that were still alive, so I picked them up by the head and spun them around a few times to make sure their necks were broken. Believe me, I didn't enjoy this. I was operating like a machine. I tried to not think, just do. I didn't want them to suffer any more, that's all.

In all we lost seven birds. One of them was Gimpy, which was a bit of a blessing because she had a hard life. The other birds had not allowed her to eat or drink, so she had to sneak for meals and water when the other birds were out foraging.

Carrying the bag to the garbage was hard. The bag was heavy and I could feel and hear movements in the bag. I even stopped and dumped the birds out to make sure that there wasn't a live bird in there. Best as I could tell, the movements were reflexive.

I carried the bag to the trash, threw it in, and walked into the house. I felt shell shocked.

Thing 3 felt bad. He felt responsible because he is supposed to go out and close them in when it is getting dark. As time has passed we have been more and more lax about securing them. This time we paid the price. I felt sick to my stomach and didn't care to watch TV or anything. Ugh.

I told Thing 3 that what is done is done. Regret and guilt are futile. All that we can do when something we do, or don't do, causes damage is to move ahead and learn from our mistakes. Good advice for any regret, isn't it? What point is there to feel guilty and regret? It serves no purpose unless it brings a lesson and that we learn.

I told Thing 3 that we needed to learn. I was telling myself as much as telling him. We needed to remember that our chickens are helpless creatures and that they depend on us to keep them safe. My intent was not to make Thing 3 feel guilty, but to say aloud what we all needed to learn from our "pain" and regrets. I also told him that we were probably lucky that we got to see such an amazing creature, the great horned owl, so close. Because, even in the worst of circumstances, isn't there something good that comes of it, even if it doesn't feel good?

We spent the rest of the evening researching great horned owls. We learned a lot.

The next day we discoverd that the screaming bird in the coop was alive. She appears to have a broken leg.

That was not the only carnage last week. I'll share that another time.

Victimizing victims. It is the American way.

I have a Masters in Business Administration. I was a Business undergraduate specializing in Finance. I worked in the private sector for my entire career - with over 15 years of Corporate America / For Profit under my belt.


So I'm no softy. I understand that cold, hard business decisions that need to be made sometimes. Sometimes the sales just aren't there. There's no demand, so there's no need for the labor and the material to produce and you cut back, and you need to lay off workers. It sucks.

I've never worked in the insurance industry, but as a Finance professional I understand the shared risk concept. People all pay in and the pool of funds collected is theoretically used to cover the needs / losses of the participants in the plan. Actuaries figure out the right amount to charge to cover the estimated risks. The pool should always be able to pay if the funds are managed properly and the underlying assumptions made by the actuaries were based on reasonable assumptions and good data.

Then, in theory, if an insurance company is for profit, they need to manage the whole thing so that they can take the profit they want out of the mix.

AHHHH... there is the rub.

Profit is not a bad thing. Profit is the reward for superior work. In the insurance industry superior work means that the people that paid you premiums got covered when they had a loss. Manage your data, your assumptions, and your business processes properly and your reward is a profit. Profit is good. If you earn it, profit is good.

Earn it? That means that if you do what your business model says you do, you have earned it. However, if you collect money from people after picking and choosing your customers, then turn away customers, and eliminate coverage for people that paid you when they were not experiencing losses...because they started having losses, then you are NOT doing your job. The business model is all about understanding risks and applying statistics to determine fair premiums. The job isn't about avoiding losses, it's about determining the right premiums.

If you are selling insurance and not protecting your customers when they experience loss; and you are not doing your job, and you enjoy a nice profit, then you are stealing. You are a crook. Sadly, the United States health insurance companies are crooked.

Not long ago, while I was seeking medical coverage in the private market, I had the humiliating and depressing experience of being a middle aged woman seeking medical insurance. As if the insane price for coverage was not humiliating enough, the process of obtaining coverage was worse.

The insurance company asked me to have my doctor respond to them with answers to a couple of questions from my application. I expected the customary one year waiver on a couple of things, but in general I didn't think it would be a problem.

Wrong.

The idiot office manager in the doctor's office didn't read my letter to the doctor. She saw the insurance form, pressed a couple of buttons, and my ENTIRE MEDICAL RECORD was electronically sent to the insurance company. If she had read the letter, the doctor was supposed to answer three simple questions with the truth - nothing more. My letter to the doctor told the doctor what to say, which was the truthful answer to the questions. I was a new patient and I wanted to remind her what I had told her, so I wrote the letter to leave no room for error. Sadly, the idiot in the office chose to ignore the cover letter, which wasn't addressed to her in the first place.

This is when I learned about HIPAA. The sad truth I learned about HIPAA is that it has no teeth whatsoever and that it's intentions when implemented were perfect, the policy never delivered on the enforcement side. ugh.

The insurance company rejected me, citing about TEN conditions that I didn't have.

It took months for me to resolve the situation. My medical records had tons of details that were misused by the insurance company. My doctor had documented everything we talked about, including suppositions, possibilities, maybes, and stuff to watch. There were no diagnoses and no treatments for of the items, except the items that they asked about. I had not withheld information and had disclosed the complete truth about anything that was diagnosed and required treatment.

It didn't matter. The insurance company said, "They are in your medical records, and we only allow three waivers."

I said, "But those were not diagnoses. They were discussion notes. You weren't even supposed to get that."

Well we did get it, and we can use it. You can not have coverage.", was the reply.

The doctor called and talked to them personally. It didn't matter. She was going to blow me off, but I scheduled a meeting. While I had become painfully aware that there were no teeth in HIPAA, and I had failed to find even ONE lawyer that was interested in helping me in civil court, I implied to the doctor that I had a case for civil court. We developed an action plan.

She took me into an examination room and we talked about each of the items in the file. For each item she asked me specific questions and had me perform specific maneuvers. For example, we had talked about the possibility of carpel tunnel syndrome that flares up for me from time to time. However, since I had no symptoms either time she saw me, and I could perform the physical movement that would indicate that I do not have carpel tunnel syndrome, she documented the test and the conclusion: no carpel tunnel syndrome - which is true, I've never been treated for it, nor been to the doctor for it. I had simply mentioned that from time to time ...

Another example: I had asked her if I should get a DEXA (bone density study) to use as a baseline. I had no symptoms of osteoporosis, but the baseline would need to be done within the next couple of years anyway, and the coverage I had from Mr. Ex was really good, so I asked to get it done a couple of years early. When the insurance company saw that the test had been performed they decided that I was likely a high risk. Never mind that the results of the scan indicated that I have the bones of a 25 year old!! The insurance company let that one go after I argued it, but it was on the original rejection letter.

Long story, almost finished, the insurance company received a new version of the medical records and rescinded their rejections. By the time they made this decision I had secured coverage elsewhere and told them to go to hell.

Ironically, the company that I secured coverage from back then has since left the Arizona market and the original company that rejected me picked up their customers... and raised their rates over 10%. . Blue Cross Blue Shield is the company. Asshats.

So I'm no victim. I won my battle, I guess. I pay insane premiums for catastrophe coverage, but I do it to protect my assets for my children. My children are covered by a plan provided by their father's employer. I have the knowledge and skills necessary to fight with the crooks and bullies that run the health insurance racket, and while I won't call myself a winner, I'll say that I am not a victim.

But what about the people that don't have the skills or knowledge? What about people that just need to be able to take care of themselves and their dependents?

>Check out this short and oh, so nauseating article.

>How can anyone know that, when left to operate without legislation, the insurance crooks consider being a battered woman a "preexisting condition", and still think that there isn't a need to correct the health insurance business model and its abuses? Without a public option that provides real market competition and coverage that doesn't victimize people, the insurance crooks will continue to abuse their 'for profit' business model - simply because they can. They have proven this to us.

I'm wondering, what are you thinking?

I'm wondering if our blogospere is closing in on us? Is it coming to a close?

Facebook seems the new rage. I have not yet embraced it - I dont' know why, really. I think it means something. Facebook is not so deep. Not so introspective. Perhaps more "normal"?

Is this chapter coming to a close?

What do you all think? I don't have many readers any more, but I still want to know!

I Got Noth'in to Bitch About

Woo Hoo!

The baby got over my bitterness. Getting it out really helped - so thanks.

Now I'm focusing on each day. I've been swimming again. I'm planning a bathroom remodel. I'm working on some major financial overhaul strategies. I sure hope the financial stuff works out. That would be sweet.

On the downside; cause damn it, downsides won't go away, the County Flood Control people, that came here to bother me in August 2007, decided to rear their ugly heads again. And trust me, if you used to read my blog in the old days, you might remember how ugly those flood control people are. Ugh.

I was served with notice that threatened me with being charged with a class 2 misdemeanor, punishable by a maximum penalty of $750 per day for every day the violation has occurred. Uh, that's since 2007.

I have the right to go to a hearing. I'll go. I'll make my case, which is basic. The flood control people object to a wall I put in between my neighbors house and me. I put the wall in, at considerable expense, with the neighbor's permission, without a permit. They have every right to have an issue with this. On the other hand, the wall was built without any formal reference to any lot lines. We have no idea if the wall in on my property, or the neighbor's property. If they can prove that it is on my lot, I'll take it down. Otherwise, it is the neighbor's problem - technically, anyway.

What do I have to lose anyway? My house is worth about what I owe on it... I could just pick up and walk. But I won't. That's now who I am, that's just not smart, anyway. I'll stick it out - unless...

I'm thinking I'll take a turnip to the hearing. When they start talking about the fines, I'll toss the turnip to them... and if they can squeeze some blood out of it, I'll start selling myself for cash. Otherwise, I'll just sit here and raise my kids. And when I'm done, or there's no hope for recovering, I'll make another decision.

So I got noth'in to bitch about. Crap just keeps flowing down the hill at me, but I plan to keep on handling it. I'll bitch sometimes, but in general, my problems are annoying -- but small. And for that I am grateful.