@ Home in the World

What would you think

if the pediatrician sitting in the pew ahead of you in church turned to you and, indicating the cantsitstill child next to you, said "They have meds for that now, you know?"

And the difference is...?

Pumpkin's first therapy appointment has been pushed back into July because the insurance company (Arrgh, Magellan again) says the therapist is not a registered provider with them and that it will take 30 to 45 days to get him registered. The kicker is that the provider is registered with another practice, just not the one that is close to us. Apparently, that doesn't count.

On the night I heard about this, I found myself listening to Newt Gingrich going off about how no one wants government bureaucrats making decisions about people's health care. As if we didn't realize that the only difference between a government bureaucrat and a corporate insurance bureaucrat is that the guy working for the private insurance company is getting paid more than the guy working for the government.

Why do the Republicans treat us like we are stupid?

Oh, wait....

A girl's place is at home (plate)

I'm at the last of Tigger's baseball games for the season. The girl playing catcher has the best baseball instincts of any member of this coed team or any team they've played all season.

A couple of days ago she told me that last year she was the only girl at the baseball camp that Tigger will be attending the week after school ends.

She'll have maybe a year or two more of this before they make her switch to softball. It will be everyone's loss. Except maybe for the softball team.

This is not news!

Dear Boston.com,

If I never read another headline about Tom Brady's supermodel wife, it will be too soon. It''s not that I don't like her or don't wish them well. I do. I just don't want to hear about it, or read about it. Their relationship or the overpriced places they went shopping are not news. It makes me sad to think that someone is getting paid to write about this when it matters so little in the grand scheme of things and real stories from places around the world do not see the light of day.

I realize that these stories are relatively cheap to publish compared to what's going on in, say, Afghanistan. Just because you can buy a lot of cheap crap at WalMart doesn't mean you should, or that it is worth what you paid for it.

The only thing I really want to know about Brady is what impact last year's surgery had on his ability to play.  Save the gossipy stuff for the tabloids.

Thank you.

Signed,

I don't read People Magazine for a reason

Zut, Alors!

Yesterday I found myself driving behind a car with a vanity plate that read OHMERDE.  That seemed to me to be the perfect response to the traffic jam we were in and I marvelled that the owner had been allowed that particular wording. Of course, probably no one at the DMV knows French.

One of the publishing companies I worked for printed a book of all sorts of English slang, colloquialisms, and perjorative usage intended for the English language learner who tends to be overly literal in translation and confused by idioms. I don't remember where the objections came from, but the finished product was deemed so controversial that it was never released. I can't imagine what it would be like to do all that work and have nothing come of it. The hazards of being a writer, I suppose. I guess it's entirely possible that the book was published somewhere else under a different title, but if that's the case, I don't know what it is.

I always thought they would have made a ton of money off of it. Nearly everyone who goes to learn a new language in school looks up the swear words first.  

I suspect that's still true.

How do I know?

The Number 1 Google search that brings people to my blog and gets at least one hit a week:

"All the bad words in the world."

What we've been up to

Well, there’s a lot going on, but not really anything I could make a whole post about. Here’s a sampling.

Vacation

Sort of. My grand plans to go to VA Beach, Colonial Williamsburg, and Busch Gardens began to disintegrate when it became clear that the timing was bad for our relatives in the area. All too quickly, “maybe we should get together” turned into “maybe we shouldn’t go at all.”  So instead of taking the whole week off, I worked Monday and Tuesday, thinking that I would get lots of projects done on Wednesday and Thursday before we left for my niece’s Confirmation ceremony in upstate NY.

Instead, I collapsed; didn’t get more than a few loads of laundry and a couple of errands done. One day I slept until 9:30. I can’t remember the last time I did that. Friday, we had every intention of leaving at 8 AM, but didn’t get out of the house until noon.

The five hour trip was relatively painless, but I didn’t pack enough “summer” clothes and we were sweltering in the heat of a place it’s hard to remember is actually south of us. Much warmer, much greener. And so much more rural.

The Catholics are now bowing before Communion. It’s been a while since I’ve been in a Catholic Church, so I asked my MIL about it. She said it was new. You know, I try to be respectful, but I couldn’t help it. “You don’t like that,” she said.  “No, I don’t.”

Yes, we all bow before the altar, and genuflect before entering the pew, but this looks for all the world like we are bowing to the priest. “Don’t worry,” my MIL assured me, “the priest knows you’re not bowing at him.” 

I’m not buying it.

Work

OMG, I have five projects and I’m getting reviewed at the end of the month. I’m mentally exhausted.  I like the job, but there are particular challenges about the culture to which I am struggling to adapt. That’s true of any place, really, this is just a bit more hierarchical than I’m used to. I’m a professional, I’ll work it out, I’m sure.

Therapy

One of the outcomes of the neuropsych testing is a recommendation for therapies for the boys; very different therapies for very different issues. We met with the first step this week and it looks like there’s going to be a “team” involved. I’m not sure how much I’ll write about this because this borders on an invasion of the boys’ privacy, but I’ll just say that while I remain intimidated by the whole process, I am encouraged by the goal setting/strategy approach the therapist talked about. I know people who have been in and out of therapy since childhood with little change. I’m hoping that’s not going to happen to us.

Baseball

Tigger starts baseball this week. Piper and I were looking at the schedule the other night and holy crap, this is quite a commitment. Next weekend he has games on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. What have we done?

Pumpkin will start T-ball in another couple of weeks. I’m hoping he has a little more sticktoitiveness than he showed last year. I’m also hoping he gets the same coach he had for kick-start soccer. The guy is a family friend and also the parent of a kindergartner. He knows the deal with Pumpkin and has shown patience, sometimes more than I have.

Aporkalypse Now

It’s official, the Swine flu makes you crazy. Two kids in Lowell have made the news because they contracted the virus, stayed out of school and so far are not thought to have infected anyone else they came in contact with. You have to love the comment on that article referring to the boys as “yuppy (sic) students” and urging people to call the health department and insist that they release the names of the “culprits.”  And, lest you think that the poster is joking, in my own community someone set off a panic by posting on a local message board that the Board of Health was up at the High School testing students for Swine flu.  NOT true. But a friend of mine who was in Mexico with his family last week was called by other parents and told not to send his kids to school in spite of the fact that they were not sick and the school had made no such stipulation.

My father died from the flu almost 30 years ago, I do take it seriously, but people seem to be acting like this is the plague that’s going to kill in 48 hours. There seems to be no recognition that the people who have died come from a place where the medical care and culture is substandard compared to what we have and expect in the States. The one child who died in the U. S. was from Mexico and had prior health complications. And that’s not even addressing people who want to close the border. Get a grip, people! And lots of fluids.

 

That’s life on the island these days.  I’ve been mucking around with a political post, but I haven’t had time to finish it yet.

Beware the Silver Foxes

 

Before we had kids and were therefore locked into the academic year schedule, our preferred time of year to take a vacation was late September. With most of the summer tourists returned to work and school, we didn’t face huge crowds that you often deal with at tourist destinations, but we found we were often the youngest people around by as much as 40 years.

 

For the most part, this wasn’t a problem. We weren’t huge socializers and were never really looking to meet people on vacation. Those times we did wind up speaking to others, we were certainly happy to listen to stories of those with a bit more life experience than we had.

 

On our summertime trip to Alaska, we noticed that there were two distinct groups on the Alaska Railroad - the elders, who were part of a tour and were travelling to meet a cruise ship, and the serious backcountry hikers, closer to our age and equipped with packs and sleeping bags, off to brave the bears at Denali. We didn’t exactly fit into either of those groups. We were staying in a cabin at our destination, and though we would be hiking, there would be no overnights in the woods, at least not on purpose.

 

At one point during our stay we encountered an older couple we decided we wanted to be when we grew up. They rose early in the morning and took in a full day’s hike with the proper equipment and supplies.  Their fitness and activity was impressive. We would be like that in 30 years we told ourselves. Pretty funny considering we weren’t much like that even back then.

 

When we were first married, and had little money to travel, I used to worry that the tour groups would be the only way I would get to see most of the rest of the world; elderly, cranky and not terribly mobile, shuffling around in a housedress and clutching my nitroglycerin pills. Never mind that we usually were travelling when I would say things like this.

 

See, in large groups, these elders could be overwhelming, and rude. After several encounters I named them the Silver Foxes after the bus tours. Never get between a Silver Fox and a souvenir T-shirt sale, trust me. You may get an elbow to the ribs.

 

Although not all of these people looked like they walked out a Far Side cartoon, their behavior might lead you to believe that they had.

 

Ugly American behavior is certainly not restricted to age, but my first notice of it ever, was a couple at a neighboring table in Canada where an older man with a distinct twang was complaining that his green salad was “too green.” He was, it turns out, expecting the wedge of iceberg lettuce, drowned in Thousand Island dressing and accompanied by a few slices of cucumber and some orange-looking cherry tomatoes.

 

Another time we found ourselves near some elders who took turns complaining about how awful their grandchildren were. That was a most depressing conversation, and we didn’t even have kids at the time.

 

Too many of my bad encounters involved bathrooms. There was that time on the ferry to Nova Scotia that I was waiting for an empty stall when maybe two dozen elderly women tried to cram themselves into the space where I was waiting. It was chaos, there was nowhere for all these women to stand let alone try to form an orderly line. Finally, a taller, Bea Arthur- type woman took charge. “Okay,” she said, looking directly at me, “everyone with a bladder problem goes to the head of the line.”  I left.

 

Later on the trip back, I was actually in the stall when there came a knock on the door. “Just a minute,” I called. Whoever was on the other side responded by pulling on the door to see if it would open. “Just a minute,” I called again. Another tug on the door. “There’s someone in here” I yelled. Another yank, and the door burst open, the force of the invader enough to loosen the latch.

 

“Hey!” I yelled, grabbing for my pants.

 

“Well,” the old woman said crossly, “you left the door unlocked!”

Looking for the words

My kids watch too much TV.

It is one of the few things that Piper and I do not agree on when it comes to child rearing. He grew up with the TV always on in the background, I did not.  We have found a way to deal with it; I let them watch more than I want and he doesn't argue with me when I finally do shut it off.

I didn't think it was possible, but I have found something even more irritating about the television than the incessant noise of Sponge Bob (that show gives me a headache) - the commercials. Or, more accurately my kids reactions to the commercials.

Oh sure, they do the obligatory "I want that" to the latest transformer type toy or junk cereal. They know that just about the only things I will ever say "yes" to are lego kits and sports stuff, but they do it anyway for fun. The thing that really bothers me though, is the reaction to Bratz or Barbie, or cheesy makeup kits, always pink and sparkly and puke-inducing. At least once a day I hear one of them say:

"That stuff's for girls...." 

You heard the sneer in that, right?

I don't know exactly where this attitude is coming from, but I don't like it. I don't like the toys either but the segregation of children's playthings is a whole other rant I don't have time for today.

So my question is this:  How do I approach this topic without going all militant on their asses in a calm and thoughtful manner? They are 6 & 7, are they even able to think critically about what's coming out of their mouths?

I wonder too, if this is a real problem or if it's just that this whole Sarah Palin debacle has me more sensitive about the view and standing of women and girls in our society. I just find the whole thing very unsettling.

Slappy Shoes!

Who ever said it was okay to wear flip flops in the office?

That has to be the most annoying sound to listen to in your cube. Especially when they walk by your cubical at a high rate of speed. A lot.

Slap, slap, slap, slap.......

Radio Silence. Please.

This was going to be a part of my next sticky-notes post, but I'm riled up enough about it to put up a separate post.

Let's call it Mobil's other pollution problem.

My newest pet peeve is the faux radio stations that "broadcast" over those cheap, tinny speakers at the GAS PUMP. They are set way too loud for the transistor-quality they put out and they go back and forth between the overly cheery advertising bits for their crappy coffee and two-for-a-dollar hot dogs, and really bad pop music. This morning it was "We Built This City on Rock and Roll" which was terrible when it first came out, was thoroughly overplayed, and now is the stuff of brain-invading nightmares. Who needs that? Nobody. I'd much rather listen to the segment of NPR that was running when I pulled into the place. But even though I turned up the volume on my radio and opened my windows before moving to the gas pump, I still could not hear what I wanted to hear. Frankly, I'd rather listen to the traffic going by. No matter if it's my morning or evening commute, I'm likely tired, stressed, and I'm pulling into the gas station at the last possible moment.  For what I'm paying for gas these days, I don't want to also feel like I'm paying to be assaulted with this noise pollution.

I wonder if the advertising industry still considers something successful when it is annoying as hell to consumers. 

I'm afraid of what the answer to that might be so I am now on a mission to avoid these gas stations whenever possible and ask you to do the same.