at Sephora
leads to too much makeup on my eyes
8.21.2009
sweet and sour
The Pastor was sweet today.
He swooped through the house with a bouquet of flowers. My Friday flowers! I was typing away on the computer, and he walked in the back door, dropped of the flowers and continued out of the house through the front door.
Wise man.
Because after he left, I thought "I need to check my e-mail."
I'm sure the Pastor had a good reason for sending me that e-mail about the causes of belly flab.
I'm afraid I'm going to require a bigger bouquet.
He swooped through the house with a bouquet of flowers. My Friday flowers! I was typing away on the computer, and he walked in the back door, dropped of the flowers and continued out of the house through the front door.
Wise man.
Because after he left, I thought "I need to check my e-mail."
I'm sure the Pastor had a good reason for sending me that e-mail about the causes of belly flab.
I'm afraid I'm going to require a bigger bouquet.
8.20.2009
(insert title here)
"Do you think I look fat?"
(insert incredibly long pause here)
(insert an even longer pause here)
"Oh, no! Sorry! I was thinking about (insert some incredibly boring theology thing here)."
*****
Like some Bible thing is going to get you out of trouble.
(insert incredibly long pause here)
(insert an even longer pause here)
"Oh, no! Sorry! I was thinking about (insert some incredibly boring theology thing here)."
*****
Like some Bible thing is going to get you out of trouble.
8.15.2009
8.13.2009
how to get a prescription filled in 33 easy steps
1. Marry a man who works full time and pays for his family to have health insurance.
2. Take a child to the doctor for a persistent medical condition.
3. Have several doctor visits over a nine-month period, and pay your co-pay each time. Yep, your insurance company should be fully aware your child is being treated for something.
4. Get several prescriptions filled for the condition along the way. Each time those Rx's are filled, go through a rigorous process by which the insurance company requires a magical special authorization completed by the prescribing doctor in addition to the prescription.
5. Schedule a follow up visit a month before school starts, so that if the child's meds need to be changed they can be changed during the summer.
6. Go to doctor visit, get bloodwork done and get new Rx.
7. Drop Rx off at pharmacy. Go to CVS, because you've given up on Walgreens.
8. Make sure pharmacy has your new phone number.
9. Have bout of wishful thinking where you go back to pharmacy to pick up Rx. Oh, the insurance company is requiring something else. We tried to call you, but your phone number doesn't work. That's right, that's why my new, correct phone number is written on the prescription. Right next to the magical special secret code number the insurance company requires.
10. Call doctor's office.
11. Call pharmacy.
12. Repeat #10 and #11 numerous times.
13. Insurance company is requiring the child to be evaluated to make sure the child is not suicidal or depressed, because this is a potential side affect of the meds.
14. The very nice doctor calls to check on you. You tell the doctor that this whole thing is starting to make you feel suicidal and depressed.
15. Work for two days to try to find out who can evaluate the child for suicidal tendencies/depression.
16. Lament about how the homeless people you know at church, when they get sick, they go to the emergency room, get care and meds and don't have to go through any of this.
17. Take child to another doctor. Doctor refuses to evaluate potential of suicidal tendencies and depression. On to the next one!
18. Find someone who will evaluate child. By the way, it'll cost $200.
19. Finally find a medical professional who will help.
20. Wait two days for piece of paper. Hooray! Child doesn't want to be a cutter or listen to Marilyn Manson! You, on the other hand, are dangerously close to the edge.
21. Fax piece of paper.
22. Wait.
23. Wait.
24. Start making phone calls. Make 11 phone calls in the matter of a few hours.
25. After way too many phone calls, add the pharmacy, the doctor's office and the insurance company to my T-Mobile My-Faves because you are going to run out of cell phone minutes.
26. Have the realization it would be easier to acquire crack cocaine.
27. Threaten to file complaint with the Insurance Commissioner.
28. Have a splitting headache and take two Tylenol.
29. Hear back from the depths of hell, a.k.a. the insurance company. Easy peasy!!!! The prescription can be filled if they have just one more thing. Another special magical something from the doctor saying the specialist in fact prescribed the prescription that they prescribed on their prescription pad for the condition your child has been treated for, for the past 9 months.
30. Contemplate forming a support group.
31. A few more phone calls, and voila! The prescription can be filled!
32. Go to pick up prescription. In the end the $500+ prescription was filled with a generic. It cost me $12.00. Two weeks of my life, and $12.00.
33. Leave the pharmacy. The heavens open, and angels sing the hallelujah chorus.
*****
As if this hasn't been enough to deal with in a week, don't even get me started on the fun I've had with AT&T and the $500 charge on my phone bill that no AT&T employee can explain.
I've had better weeks.
2. Take a child to the doctor for a persistent medical condition.
3. Have several doctor visits over a nine-month period, and pay your co-pay each time. Yep, your insurance company should be fully aware your child is being treated for something.
4. Get several prescriptions filled for the condition along the way. Each time those Rx's are filled, go through a rigorous process by which the insurance company requires a magical special authorization completed by the prescribing doctor in addition to the prescription.
5. Schedule a follow up visit a month before school starts, so that if the child's meds need to be changed they can be changed during the summer.
6. Go to doctor visit, get bloodwork done and get new Rx.
7. Drop Rx off at pharmacy. Go to CVS, because you've given up on Walgreens.
8. Make sure pharmacy has your new phone number.
9. Have bout of wishful thinking where you go back to pharmacy to pick up Rx. Oh, the insurance company is requiring something else. We tried to call you, but your phone number doesn't work. That's right, that's why my new, correct phone number is written on the prescription. Right next to the magical special secret code number the insurance company requires.
10. Call doctor's office.
11. Call pharmacy.
12. Repeat #10 and #11 numerous times.
13. Insurance company is requiring the child to be evaluated to make sure the child is not suicidal or depressed, because this is a potential side affect of the meds.
14. The very nice doctor calls to check on you. You tell the doctor that this whole thing is starting to make you feel suicidal and depressed.
15. Work for two days to try to find out who can evaluate the child for suicidal tendencies/depression.
16. Lament about how the homeless people you know at church, when they get sick, they go to the emergency room, get care and meds and don't have to go through any of this.
17. Take child to another doctor. Doctor refuses to evaluate potential of suicidal tendencies and depression. On to the next one!
18. Find someone who will evaluate child. By the way, it'll cost $200.
19. Finally find a medical professional who will help.
20. Wait two days for piece of paper. Hooray! Child doesn't want to be a cutter or listen to Marilyn Manson! You, on the other hand, are dangerously close to the edge.
21. Fax piece of paper.
22. Wait.
23. Wait.
24. Start making phone calls. Make 11 phone calls in the matter of a few hours.
25. After way too many phone calls, add the pharmacy, the doctor's office and the insurance company to my T-Mobile My-Faves because you are going to run out of cell phone minutes.
26. Have the realization it would be easier to acquire crack cocaine.
27. Threaten to file complaint with the Insurance Commissioner.
28. Have a splitting headache and take two Tylenol.
29. Hear back from the depths of hell, a.k.a. the insurance company. Easy peasy!!!! The prescription can be filled if they have just one more thing. Another special magical something from the doctor saying the specialist in fact prescribed the prescription that they prescribed on their prescription pad for the condition your child has been treated for, for the past 9 months.
30. Contemplate forming a support group.
31. A few more phone calls, and voila! The prescription can be filled!
32. Go to pick up prescription. In the end the $500+ prescription was filled with a generic. It cost me $12.00. Two weeks of my life, and $12.00.
33. Leave the pharmacy. The heavens open, and angels sing the hallelujah chorus.
*****
As if this hasn't been enough to deal with in a week, don't even get me started on the fun I've had with AT&T and the $500 charge on my phone bill that no AT&T employee can explain.
I've had better weeks.
8.12.2009
Fish Story
The Pastor preached on Jonah again this past Sunday. Isn't Jonah an incredibly short book in the Bible? Seriously, how many sermons can you get out of it?
Specifically, he preached on Jonah and arguments. He had a heart-warming story about a married couple arguing to go with his sermon. Did he illustrate his sermon with one of our arguments? No.
Like the time he introduced me as April?
Like Valentine's Day 2009?
Like Valentine's Day 2008?
Like Valentine's Day 2007?
Like Valentine's Day 2006?
Like Valentine's Day 2005?
I could go on and on and on.
So many choices, yet he used a story about another couple.
I'm so disappointed.
Specifically, he preached on Jonah and arguments. He had a heart-warming story about a married couple arguing to go with his sermon. Did he illustrate his sermon with one of our arguments? No.
Like the time he introduced me as April?
Like Valentine's Day 2009?
Like Valentine's Day 2008?
Like Valentine's Day 2007?
Like Valentine's Day 2006?
Like Valentine's Day 2005?
I could go on and on and on.
So many choices, yet he used a story about another couple.
I'm so disappointed.
8.08.2009
pray for his sins, now and at the hour of his death
What not to say when your wife gets a new haircut:
"I like it if you like it."
"If it makes you happy, then I'm happy."
At least he didn't ask how much it cost. I would have killed him for sure.
"I like it if you like it."
"If it makes you happy, then I'm happy."
At least he didn't ask how much it cost. I would have killed him for sure.
8.04.2009
If there was ever a blog post that was going to have curse words in it, this would be it.
There is not a person who lives in this house I think deserves to eat on my dining room table.
If God herself came over, I'd probably be ok with her using it. The Holy Spirit? That would be fine, because spirits do not eat, drink or do things that would scratch a table. I will handle these events on a case-by-case basis.
Jesus? If Jesus came over, I would probably be ok til his boisterous self started to get a little sloppy with the bread crumbs and the wine. Then I'd be like "ok Jesus, let's take this out to the patio table."
The Pastor and I fundamentally disagree on the functionality of the table. The Pastor thinks people should - get this - actually sit around and eat and do things at the table. I think the table should exist solely as an item of beauty. Everyone in this house, they should keep a minimum of a three foot radius of space around the dining room table (and my painting, another story) and they should eat like normal people with their food on a paper towel standing over the kitchen sink.
And have you ever been over to our house? You know, one of those times when we have people over and we eat and talk and watch Cake Boss and play games and have fun? There's something you should know. The fun for me doesn't start until everyone has left and no one is touching or sliding anything across my table.
Why am I writing all this? In the past six months, we had what I like to refer to as "The Great Dining Room Table Debate of 2009." It's a long story but here's the short version: someone used the table, something happened, I cried and people nearly died.
Since then the debate continues. Team Dining Room Table seems to think the answer lies in purchasing an ugly dining room table cover and using the table. Meanwhile, Team Don't Touch My Table has even gone so far as to purchase a table for the kitchen. A used, vintage metal table that people can do whatever they want to it and there's no way they could possibly hurt it.
This morning the Pastor was insisting on me ordering the table pad. I would compare this to an executioner asking the soon-to-be executed which method of death they would prefer. The important parts of the conversation went something like this:
"I hate the table pad."
"I don't care what color is ordered. It does not matter because I will hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate it."
"Every day I see someone sitting at the dining room table doing something on top of that hideous pad, I will be angry."
"I am only doing this because you are making me."
"As soon as the last kid moves out of this house, I am going to go purchase a brand-new dining room set that no one is ever going to use and I will be so happy. Start saving your money now."
I realize this post may make me sound insane, petty, petulant and selfish. I don't care. If that's how you feel, you can gather with the others. They're hovered around the kitchen sink.
If God herself came over, I'd probably be ok with her using it. The Holy Spirit? That would be fine, because spirits do not eat, drink or do things that would scratch a table. I will handle these events on a case-by-case basis.
Jesus? If Jesus came over, I would probably be ok til his boisterous self started to get a little sloppy with the bread crumbs and the wine. Then I'd be like "ok Jesus, let's take this out to the patio table."
The Pastor and I fundamentally disagree on the functionality of the table. The Pastor thinks people should - get this - actually sit around and eat and do things at the table. I think the table should exist solely as an item of beauty. Everyone in this house, they should keep a minimum of a three foot radius of space around the dining room table (and my painting, another story) and they should eat like normal people with their food on a paper towel standing over the kitchen sink.
And have you ever been over to our house? You know, one of those times when we have people over and we eat and talk and watch Cake Boss and play games and have fun? There's something you should know. The fun for me doesn't start until everyone has left and no one is touching or sliding anything across my table.
Why am I writing all this? In the past six months, we had what I like to refer to as "The Great Dining Room Table Debate of 2009." It's a long story but here's the short version: someone used the table, something happened, I cried and people nearly died.
Since then the debate continues. Team Dining Room Table seems to think the answer lies in purchasing an ugly dining room table cover and using the table. Meanwhile, Team Don't Touch My Table has even gone so far as to purchase a table for the kitchen. A used, vintage metal table that people can do whatever they want to it and there's no way they could possibly hurt it.
This morning the Pastor was insisting on me ordering the table pad. I would compare this to an executioner asking the soon-to-be executed which method of death they would prefer. The important parts of the conversation went something like this:
"I hate the table pad."
"I don't care what color is ordered. It does not matter because I will hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate it."
"Every day I see someone sitting at the dining room table doing something on top of that hideous pad, I will be angry."
"I am only doing this because you are making me."
"As soon as the last kid moves out of this house, I am going to go purchase a brand-new dining room set that no one is ever going to use and I will be so happy. Start saving your money now."
I realize this post may make me sound insane, petty, petulant and selfish. I don't care. If that's how you feel, you can gather with the others. They're hovered around the kitchen sink.
8.03.2009
OK, I'll take the bait.
Why the Pastor and I getting kidnapped by the Mafia would not be the worst thing in the world:
1. I bet when you are kidnapped no one makes you walk on the treadmill.
2. Mafia = Italian. I'm thinking I'd finally get to eat pasta, cheese, cannolis, etc. This goes against most kidnapping fantasies I've had of me and the Pastor getting kidnapped in the mission field and becoming emaciated.
3. I have seen enough episodes of Sex and the City enough times I could play them in my head and keep myself entertained for a while.
4. The Pastor could take naps. That would make him happy.
5. Me + the Pastor + nothing else to do = enough said. Maybe I'd get one of those post-kidnap babies out of the deal.
6. I'd finally kick my coffee addiction, and the Pastor would have to get over his whole Mountain Dew thing.
7. Since there's no Mafia anywhere around us (The Bible Belt Mafia???), we must have gotten kidnapped far from home. The Pastor hates where we live - this would only extend our vacation and elate him.
8. Kidnapped! Would make it so easy to live on the Pastor's budget. Think of the money I'd save!
9. When I finally got home, I'd have tons of stuff to watch on the dvr and stacks of magazines to read.
10. Maybe the Italian women could teach me how they get their hair that big.
11. I'd finally have an excuse to get some of those really long, really inappropriate fake fingernails.
12. I've seen every episode of the Sopranos. I'd be fine.
13. The Pastor wouldn't have to grade any of his student's papers.
14. Our relationship would prosper because I'm sure we wouldn't be locked up in some room where the Pastor keeps bugging me by opening the mini blinds, and I wouldn't be irritating him by constantly closing them.
15. Everyone knows once the kidnappers release you, you get a total makeover, a publicity tour and a book deal. Not too shabby.
16. A new accent would be nice.
17. Italians drink wine. Nazarenes don't.
18. No kids. No cooking. No laundry. No cleaning. No working. No Wal Mart. No one would make me make them BLTs.
and one more
19. The Pastor would finally have the time and emotional space to teach me, and I'd finally learn, all ten commandments.
Fuggeddaboudit.
1. I bet when you are kidnapped no one makes you walk on the treadmill.
2. Mafia = Italian. I'm thinking I'd finally get to eat pasta, cheese, cannolis, etc. This goes against most kidnapping fantasies I've had of me and the Pastor getting kidnapped in the mission field and becoming emaciated.
3. I have seen enough episodes of Sex and the City enough times I could play them in my head and keep myself entertained for a while.
4. The Pastor could take naps. That would make him happy.
5. Me + the Pastor + nothing else to do = enough said. Maybe I'd get one of those post-kidnap babies out of the deal.
6. I'd finally kick my coffee addiction, and the Pastor would have to get over his whole Mountain Dew thing.
7. Since there's no Mafia anywhere around us (The Bible Belt Mafia???), we must have gotten kidnapped far from home. The Pastor hates where we live - this would only extend our vacation and elate him.
8. Kidnapped! Would make it so easy to live on the Pastor's budget. Think of the money I'd save!
9. When I finally got home, I'd have tons of stuff to watch on the dvr and stacks of magazines to read.
10. Maybe the Italian women could teach me how they get their hair that big.
11. I'd finally have an excuse to get some of those really long, really inappropriate fake fingernails.
12. I've seen every episode of the Sopranos. I'd be fine.
13. The Pastor wouldn't have to grade any of his student's papers.
14. Our relationship would prosper because I'm sure we wouldn't be locked up in some room where the Pastor keeps bugging me by opening the mini blinds, and I wouldn't be irritating him by constantly closing them.
15. Everyone knows once the kidnappers release you, you get a total makeover, a publicity tour and a book deal. Not too shabby.
16. A new accent would be nice.
17. Italians drink wine. Nazarenes don't.
18. No kids. No cooking. No laundry. No cleaning. No working. No Wal Mart. No one would make me make them BLTs.
and one more
19. The Pastor would finally have the time and emotional space to teach me, and I'd finally learn, all ten commandments.
Fuggeddaboudit.
8.02.2009
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Subscribe To
Posts
All Comments