Trimming the Fate...

A quiet morning. My wife waves at me from the bed in the other room. Our guest hastily packs himself for a return trip to NYC. Behind me, one of the cats is busily attempting to cover all evidence of the job it just did in the litter. All in all, a fairly even keel morning. Not exactly the kind one would write about. So, why am I?

The answer is, I'm not sure. It could be that I am still stressed about something I was prayer-journaling about earlier. My wife and I are currently not covered by medical insurance. Part of me wishes I could be okay with that, considering how much I loathe being a part of the corporate machine that is medical insurance in this country. I am, however, neurotically predisposed to be safe and careful, so every day I have no coverage is another day I spend unconsciously worrying about something bad happening to us. Add into that the fact that we are still trying to get pregnant, plus the cost of insurance which includes maternity and you basically end up with a Molotov cocktail of financial and emotional stress, one capably of my overall well-being.

So I guess stress over insurance is the answer to why I am writing this. As a man, I now must seek a solution. My job is currently negotiating rates for a group insurance plan, one that would cover maternity 100%. This is a good thing. Of the 4 primary individuals who would be holders of this plan, I am the only one who is not having it paid for by the company. This is a bad thing.

I am not sure whether we can afford the cost of the insurance without taking pains to drastically reduce our current living expenses. Even with doing that, it would be a stretch. This is a bad thing. I currently do not see a solution from all of this.

I realized I have been seeking solutions while in the middle of this post. Oh Windows, one does tend to float freely among you. I have emailed a mortgage re-financier, hoping to make headway with a process which has started and stalled for months now. I have begun thinking how I can propose savings to my boss which could possibly be rolled over into a discount for insurance. I suppose I'll now go over our monthly expenses and see where fat can be trimmed. [I initially typed 'fate can be trimmed'. I like that. I think I'll keep it]. Beyond that, there's nothing left to do but wait. Which is fine. This is world is at best a really interesting waiting room, and at worst, a really bland waiting room.

This has been brought to you fairly dry. Alcohol is expensive.

All Access Package...

For some reason, I have not been able to log into this to add posts lately. Every now and again Google takes exception to the fact that I never created a password or email address through it. And, when it decides to interrogate me and not accept my password or old email address, it graciously agrees to send me a new one to the old email address. Which has been closed down by Yahoo over 9 years ago. It becomes of vicious cycle of futility where massive Internet companies play ping pong with my data and I end up never getting to my blog. I've had a lot of interesting things to say lately, too. Today, it's brutal hot and all I can think is will this be a one time access? Do I need to get a months' worth of witticisms down here or can I just relax and log back in tomorrow? It may not be for me to know. The ways of the web gods are different than mine. I guess I should feel lucky they still let me play Tetris whenever I want.

Another Failed Camping Trip...

So, another 'this is definitely the one' end of the world prediction comes to nothing. I almost wish one of these folks would admit they only did it for the press, to turn people's attention towards something that actually will happen and actually is important, albeit which is something no man or woman can or will predict (if you believe the scriptures that they take the concept of the end of the world from, anyway). Sadly, I think that this whole thing was just another instance of an idiot with a god complex taking advantage of people who don't think too clearly for themselves. Who am I to judge anyone? I believe in God, and perhaps he puts people like Harold Camping in positions of influence for a purpose. I am grateful that I am not subject to their inexplicable manias, but I have been persuaded of things I later came to disagree with in the past. It's human nature to be led. We're sheep. Clay. Of that I'm certain. To say I'm made of thicker clay than someone else is just, well, thick.

Generation Gape...

I like to hear people's perspectives sometimes. Today I spoke with my grandmother. She definitely has a perspective. Apparently, Obama is an evil man, hellbent on ruining the country from the inside. Also, Camping, or whatever the guy who is predicting the Rapture tomorrow is named, should not necessarily be called a Christian, nor should his followers. Anyone can call themselves that, but it doesn't mean they really are. Those were the main points.

Honestly, I like hearing her input. This is a woman who has lived through more wars than anyone else I know. She was married faithfully and happily to one man for over 63 years. She raised two children and then pitched in and raised 1 grandchild when the father of the grandchild decided he wanted to be a child himself for a little while longer. Whether you like her politics, agree with the far right party line she subscribes to, or simply leave annoyed by her castrating stance against anything remotely democratic, you have to respect the fact that she has been there and seen that. This woman remembers the fireside chats. She witnessed Watergate. She was tuned in when the towers fell, the Arizona sank, the allies won and the bomb was dropped. There isn't a lot you can teach an old dog. Sometimes, I wonder if there is anything you really need to.

This has been brought to you under the influence of, most recently, a black IPA brewed by the winner of a Samuel Adams beer competition. I don't remember the name. I'm sure this is the beginning of a phenomenal amount of forgetfulness on my part. Such is life...

Joe Magnon Man...

I've always been someone who felt that by doing the same thing every day, one gets faster at it, the process, whatever it may involve, becomes simpler, more familiar, expedient. This is so with nearly everything I do on a regular basis. There is, however, one action that confounds me, a routine for which I never seem to develop that shortcut or time-saving tweak for: removing a coffee filter from the endless stack of snugly packaged coffee filters. Every day I go for one so that I can brew coffee for my wife. I don't even drink it anymore since I had my abdomen ravaged by greedy surgeons. Every day, I paw at the edges of the filters like a neanderthal, trying desperately to get a piece of the top one so that I can extract it and continue on with the morning.

I suppose, in thinking about it, I could spend an evening somehow separating them so that they are easy to grab in the morning. In the past I did this, particularly when grinding my own beans. At least then the one I need is ready for me when I am at my most groggy and uncoordinated. I think I shall have to return to this practice.

This has been brought to you by South Park, because you know, I learned something today.

Figures...

For the last couple of nights, Blogger was unavailable for posting upon. Of course, I tried both nights and had what I thought were clever and interesting things to say. Tonight, after ingesting probably more than a pound of meat from the local Brazilian steakhouse, I have little to say except 'help' to whatever nearby deity might hear and perform a cleansing upon my bowels. I haven't eaten this much red meat in total since my cholecystectomy, so, we'll see.

This has been brought to you under the influence of a thousand pastures of cows (or so it feels at the moment).

El Dia De Las Madres...

I've had 3 of 4 days off from the restaurant. It feels odd. Vacation-like. At home. A staycation. I suppose those are good. I was able to get a fair bit done around the house, organizing myself for the months to come. If I had anything interesting to say at some point today, I'm pretty sure it's gone. Nothing really to report. No news is good news, as my mother used to say. Would that we could all feel that way more often.

This has been brought to you under the influence of Southern Tier's 2xIPA (my new favorite) and some wisdom from my mother. Happy mother's day, you.