07 October 2016

Sweat the Appearance of Small Things




I tell everyone.

November means I've been blogging for twelve years.

I surely haven't been blogging that long because the number of posts suggest I most likely died in 2010 and my children have ghostwritten the last 5 or 6 posts.

I'm convinced I lost my blogging feeling when I went back to college. Then I got busy with reading books and writing about said books I'd read. It was lovely until it wasn't. And then I got a grown up job paying for the education I needed to get the job I wanted to pay the bills I have to pay.

If this is not the definition of insanity....

I could tell you what insanity is: my new work neighbors in the adjacent office space coming over to our office caterwauling about assigned parking. With the unrest in the world, an upcoming election, unemployment, refugees, fracking, frankenfood, Monsanto, hurricanes, etc.. and walking the length of three extra parking spaces is all that is wrong with the world? This is why the Kardashians are still on tv.

I understand the annoyance of having someone park in your spot. It annoys me when people park over the line like a beached whale. Door dings are another annoyance. The Justice side of my personality gets annoyed at these things. Why? I don't know.

I consider what it would be like to have a giant door ding or squeezing into the last space only because someone couldn't think outside their own bubble. It's  the selfishness of it all that irks me. Why are people unable to think beyond and consider their impact on the world around them? And really, is being considerate of others and respecting someone else's things a small thing or big thing? When the principal of the matter is huge and the action small, I notice because the root of the issue impacts a person's life and those around them. I couldn't care less about how someone else parks a car but laziness or selfishness that effects others I cannot endure.

I do sweat the appearance of petty, small things in an effort to fix big things. Sometimes, I end up avoiding big things because of fixing the small things.

Speaking of small things, my office recently moved to a new location for our growing medical practice. I had a conversation with Accountant Man and then his boss, Accountant Boss Lady: Protector of the Parking.

Now, let it be said, I know two accountants personally and they are not petty or sweaty. In fact, the are kind, warm, smart, and generous, and not the types to complain of parking or watch the Kardashians.

However, the mounting complaint over our errant parking was inevitable. These people are accountants but not just any accountants, special accountants in an organization for accountants across the United States. These are the Academy Awards of Accountants but in a club. The AAA's? If our office neighbors are any indication, this appears to be a boring club. Like Costco but with less bulk toilet paper and more Montblanc pens.

Regardless, these particular AAA's are are severely anal retentive and are usually paid to sweat the small stuff. I happen to speak Accountant and according to our office lease, the parking is ample and unassigned. We agreed to talk to the leasing agent so we wouldnt step on toes, or parking as it may be, and they could inquire on where to buy some big girl panties.

They did not like this news but I was as diplomatic as they are ridiculous. They chose to be accountants. I rest my case.

Bee isn't sweating the small things
Listening to Coldplay's Green Eyes

ps. I do not have ill-will toward accountants 
pps. no accountants were harmed in the making of this post.
ppps. if you are an accountant, don't sweat the petty stuff.




31 December 2015

Inability to Adult

If government cheese is any indication, there should be no doubt how the US government would end up handling something bigger and slightly more complex such as healthcare. 

A few months ago, my oldest turned 19. I work in medical billing and Ive sold insurance but I can't even imagine a layperson understanding insurances. What's a deductible, what's a copay, and what's co-insurance, a prior-auth, and tertiary coverage? You almost need a class to figure out c overages and as a teenager, I could see why this is intimidating.

My daughter has a knack for putting the pro- in procrastination. Upon turning 19 and when the state ended her healthcare coverage, she let it lapse citing "inability to adult". As the giver of life and parental until assisting in her big health decisions, I offered my help.

"If you get sick with strep or the flu, you're taking the bus to county health and sitting amongst the unwashed masses with TB and STDs. I'm not driving you. Now here is your apple juice and box of granimals."

Although, today, she went into LAST DAY MODE to sign up for new healthcare "on her own", and by on her own, I mean "sit next to Madre while she does it and I surf Craigslist for new cars."

 This is the new face of procrastination.

Here are some simple steps to signing up on an exchange...

Once you sit down with your child, laptop, and fortified with coffee, you can begin to wade through the 404 Not Found failed website state exchanges. There are more than you'd think.

Help daughter input her information and press NEXT.

Follow instructions in dialog box to include every family member in household even if they are already on state insurance or not applying for anything.

Include demographics, social security number, employer information, your failed dating attempts, the tears of a black-spotted, African tropical yak, and press NEXT.

Follow the instructions in dialog box to include unchecked boxes that appeared only after you selected NEXT.

Input the salaries of everyone in household and select NEXT.
Time out and do the first three steps no less than four times.

Check box to agree that you do not have income from any other sources including spousal support, busking, pole dancing, selling stolen items on Craigslist, or black market organ sales. Press NEXT.

Follow instruction on the dialog box that informs the applicant that applicant will go to prison longer than Charles Manson if you lied.

Agree again that you mean it, you did not lie. Select NEXT.

Follow the prompt that says the application cannot be completed because some applicants already have state insurance. Regardless of the fact that you did as they asked and included everyone in the household, including siblings that currently have state funded insurance.

Remove the option of reapplying or indicating state insurance for the other three kids in the house. Press NEXT. 

Follow the prompt that states that you must have one other person applying for healthcare to process the application regardless of the fact that everyone except the applicant has insurance. Press NEXT.

Change the status of adult in household that already has insurance as someone who NEEDS insurance because the application wont go through without two applicants. Check box "Applying for insurance." even though you feel the state has better things to do than spend time to review an application for someone who has insurance, doesn't need more, and certainly doesn't need it from the state exchange.

Follow the prompt that states your 19 year old is approved...and the adult in the household could not be approved because you already have insurance through your employer. Laugh at suggestion of calling an 800 number to further the stalled application of the adult with insurance who doesn't need it. I'm up for a 40 minute flute solo, how about you?

Bee works in medical insurance billing and is not a fan of the ACA.
Listening to: The Ocean Breathes Salty by Modest Mouse

24 October 2015

Grownup Stuff and Chocolate

If you are the one of three readers that still visits (Hi, Mom), I've revamped several posts on my blog. Taken some down. Revamped others. I also couldn't believe how my writing has changed.

I could catch you up but you are, in all likelihood, a new reader and probably couldn't care less.

I'm a full-time job, working mom now. Done with school and bookselling. (sad face) Days go by where I wonder when I became the grownup. When does the brain switch from riding my banana seat bike and what to wear to grownup things like bills, vacuuming, and the next chocolate fix? I regularly imagine I'm living in a house where my mom will bust in the door and tell me to turn down WHAM and do my homework. I surmise the feeling doesn't go away for us with parents dishing guilt-ridden childhoods. The "get off the Atari and pick up your socks" voice forever rings in my head.

My kids are 12, 15, 16, and 19. I have fantastic kids. They have not adjusted to my working schedule yet. Its been since July and I love working outside the home. They miss my cooking and doing their laundry. Ha. However, it never occurred to me how many school meetings, assemblies, volunteer opportunities, etc...took place during the working day. The school begs me to volunteer. I'm lucky to be wearing clean underwear and a shirt that's not inside out. It's been an adjustment but since my kiddos are heading to college in 6 years or less, I'm thankful I went to school when I did. Now I have a job I love.

Today, I've done some laundry and spent the day reading and being a house hobo. I've spent the last few weekends this way discovering how much I love being home and sleeping in. Today, not so much. Which leads me to my early morning....

I had a call this morning regarding my Grandma. She has been in declining health these last months. She's been in failing health, with several falls, but in fairly good spirits (read: could still kick your ass in Scrabble). This last week she was attended by hospice and early this morning, she passed away peacefully in her sleep. I'm thankful she is no longer in pain and is finally reunited with family she lost long ago. She lived an amazing, beautiful, and full life, with knack for remembering birthdays. As a former English teacher, she loved her books even till the end. I am saddened and struck by how her passing has affected my sisters, my mom, and family. This year's holiday season will be a difficult one for many. Grandma was one in a million.

Sorry for the downer, but grownup stuff is what we have now...and with it is the occasional brutal hit to my heart. I'm convinced that's why we grownups have the chocolate.

Missing you already, Grandma....

Bee gets serious now and then
Listening to: Four Seasons by Vivaldi

07 May 2015

Hey, Baby Wake Up And Hulk Smash A Chicken

Dear Interwebs, 

You may think you are so hipster and smart with your Throwback Thursday, Sweet Saturday, Follow Friday, and I don't know, Winnebago Wednesday, and Matricide Mondays but I'm on to you. 

You're probably tired of squinty baby and sibling photos and 80's fashion pictures on Throwback Thursday. I thought instead to share some memories. Which, if I was more hipster and smart, would have done this on Memory Monday.
Some of the best memories I have are in the past. 

Let me start again. 

Some of the best memories are ones that I have.

I have a feeling this is going to be a long story.

Once upon a time, when ages and waistlines were all in the 20's, My friend, Dana, aside from owning a killer green Volare with bald tires and a never-ending supply of Reese's peanut butter cups, had the cutest, little, studio apartment. 

Dana lived in this quaint, brick building located under the big blue Volvo sign in downtown Portland. If you've ever driven up Burnside, you know the sign I'm talking about. The building, I guesstimate was built in the 30's or 40's, evidenced by the carpet, feel of the building, the fallout shelter sign in the basement-gone-communal-laundry-room, and punctuated by the old-fashion elevator. The elevator's accordion-like gate hinged open manually, then the inside door opened manually as well. Once inside, you'd close the outer gate, the door, and you found yourself closed into this teeny tiny space. People in the 30's and 40's must not have taken up that much room. The elevator squeaked and groaned leaving passengers to imagine a sudden plummet to the basement with or without the button for the "non-existent" 13th floor. It never quite evoked confidence while ferrying passengers from floor to floor when it shuddered more than a mall-parking lot carnival ride.

Dana and I became experts at evading the young, unabashedly forward, Russian manager. He was always good fun, if not a bit handsy. He was harmless and regularly offered "his services" *wink wink*, singing while he roamed the halls in constant state of somewhere between inebriation and crapulously blottered. Its a wonder he kept his job for so long. Him and his "travel mug" of coffee.

One morning after Dana and I had a crazy night of Coffee People drive through, Oasis Pizza, movies, and people watching on "Trendy-Third" street, I remember being blasted awake with 120 decibels of ungodly noise coming from...a chicken. A rock n roll chicken.

"HEY, BABY, WAKE UP! COME AND DANCE WITH ME!"
 
I sat up completely disoriented. This was pre-caffeine, mind you. I was getting my bearings being somewhere other than my own room while suffering from too much late night caffeine and pizza. I said something like, "Who put this wall here?!" What I didn't know was that Dana, responding to the pot of coffee we drank with midnight movies, she pushed the bed in halfway to squeeze by on her way to the bathroom. My eyes finally focused and I realized when I sat up earlier, I was less than an inch from braining myself on the wall frame.

As good friends do, Dana just laughed at me. I begged her to make her chicken stop making THAT NOISE. Hands down it's loudest alarm clock I've ever heard. Although, I'm certain I didn't wet the bed. It was a weekend, not Wet The Bed Wednesday.



-Bee's best part of waking up is sleeping in
Listening to: Gravity by Trentemoller. - See more at: http://beerepartee.blogspot.com/#sthash.OnRaE1P5.dpuf
-Bee's best part of waking up is sleeping in
Listening to: Gravity by Trentemoller. - See more at: http://beerepartee.blogspot.com/#sthash.OnRaE1P5.dpuf
-Bee's best part of waking up is sleeping in
Listening to: Gravity by Trentemoller.












- See more at: http://beerepartee.blogspot.com/#sthash.OnRaE1P5.dpuf
-Bee's best part of waking up is sleeping in
Listening to: Gravity by Trentemoller.
















- See more at: http://beerepartee.blogspot.com/#sthash.OnRaE1P5.dpuf
-Bee's best part of waking up is sleeping in
Listening to: Gravity by Trentemoller.
















- See more at: http://beerepartee.blogspot.com/#sthash.OnRaE1P5.dpuf
-Bee says The Rock N Roll Chicken has approved this message.
Listening to: Istanbul (Not Constantinople) by They Might Be Giants