Mojo & Teazyka enjoying their first bit of fresh air August 5, 2008
Mojo (left), and Teazyka (right), September 19, 2008
Enjoying the fresh air is a nice pastime for the brothers.
We need one of those covers for the roll. G says,
Archive for Life in Peekskill
Money, money, money, Part 1
One of the kittens (they’re nearly identical so I don’t know WHICH FREAKING ONE) danced across the keyboard and did something to my post, destroying it. I’m going to attempt to recreate it. The only thing that autosaved was the title. Grrrr…
My stress level the past few weeks has been on a real high, and although I don’t think that being bipolar had anything to do with it, although, it couldn’t have helped. Start with a stupid issue with the retailer Eileen Fisher (do NOT use a gift card online in conjunction with another form of payment for the balance; you will be charged the full amount until the gift card clears. Nowhere on their site does it state this, and they did this with my debit card for $270.80. They ended up overnighting my order for free.) Then came the aforementioned COBRA debacle, which was finally resolved. My father was generous enough to loan us a thousand dollars cash to cover the first month’s payment, with the understanding that as soon as we sell my car (this week), we’ll pay him back. That’s right, we’re selling my car to pay for our health insurance. We really don’t need an extra car with G working from home, I mean, if there’s an emergency and he needs to go somewhere, he can always call a neighbor or take a cab, right? And if he has to take one of the cats to the emergency vet 25 miles away in White Plains? Oh well. I need to get the brakes checked on the Toyota (my little VW is now sitting in front of our house, detailed and cleaned, devoid of bumper stickers, not accruing any more mileage), the brakes feel like they slip in the rain and snow. Niiice.
Anyway, Ryan from COBRA called me the day after I sent in my Express Mailed my money order to tell me that they had indeed received it and no, there would not be any waiting time for it to clear, but that it would take approximately 48 “business hours” for my enrollment to start. Le sigh. Whatever. I’d done everything I could, now it was in their hands. I reiterated that I was out nearly $1400 for prescriptions and let him know that my father had loaned us the $912.81 that I had sent in, and that I was selling my car in order to pay for the following months’ payments. Dig, dig. He told me to call the next day to see how things were progressing.
Not an hour later, my cell phone rang. It was Ryan. “Your enrollment is final, you can go pick up any prescriptions you need, and you can get reimbursed from the pharmacy. They can resubmit the claims and refund you the money.” I started to cry.
We always file and extension for our income taxes, so October 15th is our April 15th. G got the call on the 9th that the taxes were ready and that we could come pick them up. Over the past months, there’s been lots of back and forth, requesting documentation, numbers, all sorts of stuff. We figured that they would ask for everything they needed. Hah!
I went down to the accountant’s before work on the 10th, around 12:30. I picked up the papers, and got back in my car. I opened up the thick blue folder to take a peek and almost fainted. The amount owed was a little over $14,000; $8,000 federal, $6,000 state. Due TODAY. I walked unsteadily back to the accountant’s office and tried not to freak out. I asked if our accountants were there (it’s a group), no, they weren’t. Another accountant in the office came down to try to make heads or tails of our return on the fly, and started in on me. “You have rental property? And you didn’t do this? And this? And this?” Et cetera. I said, “I sell jewelry for a living, my husband is a computer consultant. You are our accountants. WE DO WHAT YOU TELL US TO DO.” Finally, he said that our guys would be in on Monday, and that we could talk to them then. “But what about the fact that they payment is due TODAY?” I said. “So you’ll pay a little penalty, it won’t be much, a few dollars.” Easy for you to say, the penalty is probably a percentage, and any percentage of $14k is enough. Whatever, they weren’t there, and obviously, no one was going to reach out to them for us.
Part Two, coming soon!
Seven weeks, four days
I’ve been remiss in writing to this blog, and I apologize. It isn’t that there’s been nothing new to report, there has, and lots of it! I’ve just been busy; too busy even for Ravelry, too busy to keep up with The Yarn Harlot and Dooce on a regular basis, too busy to catch up on my email. So please, don’t feel neglected!
What’s been taking up all of my available time? These two, born June 7, 2008:
Yevgeny Mungojerrie (Mojo) 2008.07.14
Which one starts the car?
Our house is a very, very, very fine house...
Harry sniffing Ivan Rumpelteazer (Teazyka) 2008.07.22
Tigger is more than sixteen times Mojo's size (16.4).
Learning how to play
Welcome to our little family, Yevgeny Mungojerrie aka Mojo or Zhenyka (one pound, 3.5 ounces as of today), and Ivan Rumpelteazer aka Teazyka (pronounced “teeska,” one pound, 3.8 ounces). We went all the way out to Long Island City in Queens to get them. We had only planned on taking one, but when we got to our friend M’s house and I picked up Teazyka, G picked up several of the others, and Mojo fell asleep in his arms. The conversation went like this:
G: (with puppy dog eyes) Can we keep him?
Me: Are you sure?
G: Yes.
Me: Are you really sure?
G: Ask me again, and I’ll say no.
Me: M, I think we’re taking two.
M: Yay!!!1!!
They had adopted out nearly all of the eight, and our guy was close to last, if not the last. Our amazing vet (who makes housecalls) has already been to see them, and exclaimed, “Oh my god! They’re so intense! They’re so tiny!” Which leads us to believe that they were indeed premature. Also, there were eight kittens total in the litter (all of whom survived). G has taken some more pictures, the first of which are posted over at Cats, Sheep, & Penguins, along with the whole story. He’s shot and processed more pictures; they’ll be up soon.
The most sincere pumpkin patch
Last November, we tossed the ready-to-rot pumpkins over by the Kwanzan cherry tree in the back yard, you know, for compost. Shortly thereafter, they were attacked by animals looking for the tasty seeds that we hadn’t scooped out. It took a long time, but the pumpkins finally decayed. I added some fireplace ash at one point, having heard that it was full of potassium and good for fertilizer. I didn’t think much else of it all until a few weeks ago, when I saw some familiar leaves growing among the weeds.
We had a vegetable garden when I lived with my parents, and planted all sorts of things, including fat peas, corn, watermelon, and, you guessed it, pumpkins. I ran inside to tell G about this miraculous event, but he was rather nonplussed. “We did throw a boatload of seeds out there. One was bound to grow.” I’ve been watching the not one but TWO vines growing with anticipation. Today when I wentout to take some pictures, I spotted yet another vine growing! Here’s the evidence:
Just another day at the computer
making stitch markers, watching YouTube, hanging out…
60˚ in January
I saw two high school-age boys wearing shorts and short sleeves on my way back home from the world’s most fantastic dentist. And a convertible with its top down. I know global warming is a bad thing, and I do love my fireplace, but there’s something to be said for warm, sunny days, even when the sun starts to set at about 3:30 pm.
About the dentist: Years ago I was traumatized by a very evil man disguised as a dentist. I’ll tell you who he is if you email me. He used to scream at his hygienist while working on my mouth, broke off a file in a root canal, called me “a big baby,” and is, I suspect, a misogynist (No man I’ve spoken to has anything bad to say about him, but all the women do). He also cut the underside of my tongue with the drill, you know the part that attaches your tongue to the floor of your mouth? Took forever to heal. Add to that nightmare the fact that while deep in the throes of unmedicated bipolar disorder, I wasn’t too good at taking care of myself, teeth included, I ended up with a very sorry state of affairs in my mouth. So for years I was going to this Goebbels with a drill, too afraid to say anything or to speak up for myself, and then I moved to an apartment across the street for Dr. Kenneth Magid’s office. A saint. There used to be a sign on his front door with a picture of Ziggy hiding behind a dentist’s chair with the legend, “We Cater To Cowards.” Seemed to be the guy for me. He, along with all of the people in his office, have a wonderful bedside manner, don’t treat me like an idiot or a leper, and the best part? They give me “sweet air” for every session (I’ve gotten good enough that I don’t need it for cleanings, but there was a time…). He is an absolute superhero in my book. If you live in Westchester County or even one of the surrounding counties and don’t mind driving a bit for a fantabulous dentist, I can send you a card that gets you a discount for the referral.
What would you do?
If you heard a nasty rumor about someone dear to you, who was in a service position to you? And they were going to be performing their service very soon, and you didn’t believe the rumor? Would you tell them what you’d heard? Or confront the rumorer (who is a known drama queen)? Who you don’t even know, but you heard this slander through a third party. I didn’t tell the rumoree what I’d heard, because I thought it would really hurt them. And I don’t want them thinking that I believe it, not for a second. Aughhh!
Happiness is a full log hoop
It’s from Plow & Hearth, and was the nicest one we found. We even attached some pine boughs like they have in their picture. It holds about seven hods full, which is about three or so days’ worth of fires:
Also more détante among the furry ones:
Next on the list: call the cat-sitter!
“We’re not closing the door.”
So sayeth Apple. They’re going with candidates with more Apple peripheral experience than I for the holiday, but they’re going to call me after. So my job now is to learn as much as I can in the next two weeks so that I am better prepared. I’m an idiot to not have gone in there more prepared. But I can only learn from my mistake.
At least for now, I’m collecting unemployment, and we can go see my SIL and family up in Syracuse for Christmas.
No news yet
on the Apple front. G says I’ll hear from them on Monday. We hopes.
We went to my mom’s tonight for Chanukah (yeah, I spelled it like that. You spell it whatever way you want.) to spend some time with her and her boyfriend B, my brother and his wife, and their gorgeous daughter, Léa. I had my camera with me but forgot to take it out, she was that captivating. We had a tea party, and she kept feeding me chips with a spoon (”mo’ tsips”). If you asked her for a “bisou” she’d come and plant the tiniest kiss on your cheek. G noticed that she’d say something in English and then repeat it in French. “Two” then “deux.” She had trouble with “ice cream” but none at all with “glace.”
For dinner we had my mother’s famous noodle kugel (ohmygoditwasfuckingdelicious) for which I need the recipe. We had the ubiquitous latkes, and flank steak, and then this dish that one of her residents suggested; asparagus with heavy cream, cheddar, and ham. Really fucking good. She gave each of us couples a 400-piece jigsaw puzzle “made especially for you featuring an extract from the US Geological Survey map base centered on your home. The jigsaw covers an area of 4 miles north-to-south and 6 miles east-to-west.” Your home is at the center, and the centerpiece is shaped like a house. Wicked cool, and I wish I could link to it, but the website returns an error. There are two email addresses on the back of the box, hopefully one will work for those of you interested: In the UK, sales@mapmarketing.com. In the US, orders@historicnewspaper.com. Visits to both of those sites led nowhere useful; perhaps email will. I don’t know how my mother found it, probably a catalog. I’ll take a picture of the puzzle one it’s finished.
