Tag: Blogging
Good Analogy or Same Ol’ Shit Politics? YOU answer that for yourselves
For me, I think the commentary below is a damned good analogy for Obama-care…aka The Affordable Care Act.
Yeah me, the ‘so-called’ middle class…the one who is now paying more than twice the cost for less than half the coverage.
The one who can no longer afford to go to the doctor, even though I have insurance, because the deductible is a joke.
No…worse…the deductible is half a year’s living expenses.
Political?
I wish it were that easy.
Reality?
You betcha.
I am one of those who has insurance, but will never reap the benefit of the (50% greater) amount taken from the paycheck for the simple fact that, the (4x greater) deductible is more than we could ever afford to pay on top of the premiums.
Therefore, for all (his) intents and (his) purposes…we consider ourselves one of the “Insured WITHOUT the state and federal benefits of the uninsured”
Yes, this is the reality. If you are part of the subsidized health exchange system…good for you.
If you are not…like me…then this is our reality.
Does this mean I’m anti-poor or anti-needy? HELL NO!
Does this mean because I work and you don’t, I am responsible for taking care of YOU before I can take care of me and my own? NO
Does this mean I think I deserve decent, affordable health coverage because that’s what I pay for? YES
Do I think there is a better way to achieve this than Obama-care? YES
Why?
Because more than 50% of what my household makes ALREADY goes to the government.
When is it enough?
When is it going to be okay to think YOU take care of YOU and YOURS and I take care of ME and MINE is the way it should be, if at all possible?
Charity begins at home. Right?
Charity comes from the heart. Right?
Charity is NOT a mandatory tax. Right?
Since when did the government become a charity?
I give what I can when I can, which is often.
I have never passed another human being in need, without offering a helping hand.
When did that cease to be ‘charitable’?
The future Analogy of which I speak (and please, this is not a personal attack on the Prez…just his policy) is outlined below:
Affordable Plumbing Act
Only weeks after leaving office on Jan. 20, 2017, former President Barack Obama discovers a leak under his sink, so he calls Troy the Plumber to come out and fix it.
Troy drives to Obama’s new house, which is located in a very exclusive, gated community near Chicago where all the residents have a net income of way more than $250,000 per year.
Troy arrives and takes his tools into the house. He is led to the guest bathroom that contains the leaky pipe under the sink. Troy assesses the problem and tells Obama that it’s an easy repair that will take less than 10 minutes. Obama asks Troy how much it will cost. Troy checks his rate chart and says, “$9,500.”
“What?! $9,500?!” Obama asks, stunned, “But you said it’s an easy repair. Michelle will whip me if I pay a plumber that much!”
Troy says, “Yes, but what I do is charge those who make more than $250,000 per year a much higher amount so I can fix the plumbing of poorer people for free. This has always been my philosophy. As a matter of fact, I lobbied the Democrat Congress, who passed this philosophy into law. Now all plumbers must do business this way. It’s known as the ‘Affordable Plumbing Act of 2014′. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of it.”
In spite of that, Obama tells Troy there’s no way he’s paying that much for a small plumbing repair, so Troy leaves. Obama spends the next hour flipping through the phone book calling for another plumber, but he finds that all other plumbing businesses in the area have gone out of business. Not wanting to pay Troy’s price, Obama does nothing and the leak goes un-repaired for several more days. A week later the leak is so bad Obama has had to put a bucket under the sink.
Michelle is not happy as she has Oprah and guests arriving the next morning. The bucket fills up quickly and has to be emptied every hour, and there’s a risk the room will flood, so Obama calls Troy and pleads with him to return.
Troy goes back to Obama’s house, looks at the leaky pipe, checks his new rate chart and says, “Let’s see, this will now cost you $21,000.”
Obama quickly fires back, “What? A few days ago you told me it would cost $9,500!”
Troy explains, “Well, because of the ‘Affordable Plumbing Act,’ a lot of wealthier people are learning how to maintain and take care of their own plumbing, so there are fewer payers in the plumbing exchanges. As a result, the price I have to charge wealthy people like you keeps rising. Not only that, but for some reason the demand for plumbing work by those who get it for free has skyrocketed! There’s a long waiting list of those who need repairs, but the amount we get doesn’t cover our costs, especially paperwork and record-keeping. This unfortunately has put a lot of my fellow plumbers out of business, they’re not being replaced, and nobody is going into the plumbing business because they know they can’t make any money at it. I’m hurting too, all thanks to greedy rich people like you who won’t pay their ‘fair share’. On the other hand, why didn’t you buy plumbing insurance last December? If you had bought plumbing insurance available under the ‘Affordable Plumbing Act,’ all this would have been covered by your policy.”
“You mean I wouldn’t have to pay anything to have you fix my plumbing problem?” asks Obama.
“Well, not exactly,” replies Troy. “You would have had to buy the insurance before the deadline, which has passed now. And, because you’re rich, you would have had to pay $34,000 in premiums, which would have given you a ‘silver’ plan, and then, since this would have been your first repair, you would have to pay up to the $21,000 deductible, and anything over that would have a $7,500 co-pay, and then there’s the mandatory maintenance program, which is covered up to 17.5%, so there are some costs involved. Nothing is for free.”
“WHAT?!” exclaims Obama. “Why so much for a puny sink leak?!”
With a bland look, Troy replies, “Well, paperwork, mostly, like I said. And the internal cost of the program itself. You don’t think a program of this complexity and scope can run itself, do you? Besides, there are millions of folks with lower incomes than you, even many in the ‘middle class’, who qualify for subsidies that people like you must support. That’s why they call it the ‘Affordable Plumbing Act’! Only people who don’t make much money can afford it. If you want affordable plumbing, you’ll have to give away most of what you have accumulated and cut your and Michelle’s income by about 90%. Then you can qualify to get your ‘Fair Share’ instead of giving it.”
“But who would pass a crazy act like the ‘Affordable Plumbing Act’?!” exclaims the exasperated Obama.
After a sigh, Troy replies, “Congress… because they didn’t read it.”
50 Shades of Thankful
HooK LiNe and SinKer
Though I know spring is right around the corner, and I look forward to the rebirth of nature’s bounty and for some of you, the births of new little ones who’ll soon be pitter-pattering on your hearts can’t come soon enough…I just can’t help but bitch about this particular time change; and never more this year than any other.
I don’t know what it is.
It’s not the extra daylight surely. Who doesn’t like the normalcy of waking up in the light and going to sleep when it’s dark?
It’s not the rain because I’ve never minded a good ol’ rainy day. I love them actually.
Who wouldn’t, knowing this beauty below, from a year ago, is drinking it up so it can make another grand entrance?
That said though, It just feels, to me, that the spring daylight savings robs more of the day than it gives.
When I wake in the morning, it feels too late.
When I retire at night, it feels too early.
When I think about lunch, it’s too close to dinner.
When I think about dinner, it’s too soon after lunch.
Feeling this way, you’d think the fall time change would make me feel the opposite…
Up too early; to bed too late; starving by lunch; when the hell is dinner.
Right?
But no…I feel none of that. And frankly, I don’t remember the spring change feeling this intense before either.
I keep asking myself “What the hell is it this year that makes me feel so irritable about it all?”
And then it hits me. Or at least, I think it does.
Along with all I do look forward to in the spring, now, there are things I know I’ll never see or do or feel again.
At least, not in the same way.
I’ll never see the joy on his face when the ice has retreated enough for us to take poles in hand and put lines to water, hoping for enough perch for dinner or, at the very least, stories grand enough for everyone to swallow…
HooK Line and SinKer
We’ll never walk the rocky path through the woods, looking for that one spot that offers the perfect balance of flat rock and branch-free air, to sit and cast a line (not to mention a hearty tree trunk to hide behind for those necessary times).
Or a high, flat bank, on which to perch a chair to jerk a perch.
I’ll never feel the strong surety of his hands as he takes the ‘big’ one off my line because I jumped instead of jerked, so that fish swallowed it all…
HooK Line and SinKer
I’ll never see him begin another spring outing as the 5’7″ man he was, only to end the day coming in at a cool 5’11” from the mud cake that grew on the bottom of his shoes; we, full anticipation for the tall tales about big fish, that we willingly swallowed…
HooK Line and SinKer
I know the memories of these times are what are important.
I know too, that when the fall arrives, there will be even more that will make me miss him even more.
The scores of memories of him saying “Let’s take this road, there’s a great barn you need to see!”
Those are the ones that will make me weep first and smile again…after a time.
Those times, though as forever behind me as they are in the rear-view above, will always be the happiest times we shared.
But I also know and will remember well, that when next the boys lower the boat to kiss the Clyde one misty morning, he will be there.
He’s probably there now…waiting…for the ice to break, the fish to come up for air, and us kids to show up with all we need, to keep the traditions going and the memories fresh.
He’ll be there.
And we’ll be there.
Ready to take it all…
HooK Line and SinKer.
WHO KNEW?
yabba-D.A.B.D.A.-doo the numbers
The five stages of grief
1. Denial
2. Anger
3. Bargaining
4. Depression
5. Acceptance
1
There has been no denial…
…there was no doubt death was coming
2
There has been anger…
…but it’s an exhausting emotion
3
There was a little bargaining…
…too close to self-blaming to be tolerated for long
4
There is depression…
…that ‘happy memory’ thief that sneaks into your heart in the dark
5
There will be acceptance…
…a state of being both wanted and feared at the same time
♥
Remembering the good times, the happy times, is not hard
there are so very many of them
Remembering I am not alone is not easy
until I hear the sadness in the voice on the other end of the phone
Remembering he is gone takes the joy out of the day
until I remember too, how much of him is left within me
Forgetting that he lived and loved and was loved in return is not an option
especially when remembering his legacy to all of us was ∴
♥
Live like it’s your last day
Love like it’s your last chance
Regret Nothing
♥
The Epilogue
The service is done
The tears shed
Ashes stowed
His final bed
Pride in my family
Not the least of which, Mom
Who honored my father
With dignified Calm
Standing Room Only
His life well represented
Laughter the keystone
Not a life lamented
Notes to be written
Soups to be made
We dreaded the after
But we’re no longer afraid
Of the space that is empty
His body departed
‘Cause his spirit is present
We are each lighter hearted
Remember my laughter
Remember my smile…
Remember my loving
Remember my style
I’ll forever be with you
To navigate the way
As you journey forward
I will help lead the way
You’ll never be alone
Nor should you feel sorrow
I’m forever in today
As I’ll always be tomorrow
Okay Dad…we’ll remember
I Was a Toddler-age Tosspot
Yes, I confess.
By the time I was 3, I was hooked on the ol’ brew.
(And, apparently, I passed that on to my eldest. Though, I preferred a bottle)
Observez Vous…

Actually, I was more hooked on Dad…I was his toddlin’ sidekick in mighty whitey tights! Anything he did, I wanted to do. Anywhere he was, I wanted to be. Not so unusual for little girls to consider their Dads their first love and first superhero.

There again too…I guess boys are of the same mind. Like father like sons?
You betcha!

This is how the story goes…
Once upon a time, in a little town far, far away, there was a little girl who lived with her father, mother, and 3 brothers. That’s her below…the twinklin’ toddler in her mighty whities…



Her father was a hard-working man; working 2, sometimes 3 jobs to make ends meet. And her Mother was not your ‘typical for the times’ housewife either.

Because, busy as she was, having had 4 kids in 5 years, she still held a full-time job outside the home.
But, this was also a time when families lived close together, daycare centers were non-existent, and family was relied upon to pitch in where they could. (Glad it was you, Gram)
Now, seeing as these were hard-working folk, what little free time there was, was catch-up time, family time, friends time. Picnic parties, horseshoes, reunions, celebrations…but all the time, busy!




But…let’s not forget the biggie…working on cars in the yard.
That all-american male’s favorite pastime. Grease-monkeyin’ in the driveway.



Am I right?
So anyway, this is how a toddlin’ sidekick to her Daddy’s Superman, gets her tights in a twist…
A typical weekend afternoon, circa 1963…
The boys tinkerin’ in the driveway with the women folk fixin’ victuals and watchin’ babies inside.
A regular tune ‘er up, tink’er up, smoke’em up, drink’em up, Sa’day afternoon.
Rev her up..sounds good!
Close her up…hit the dirt for a test run.
No need for cleanin’up, we’re comin’ right back.
Ya with me? Good.
To continue…
The boys are gone.
The women are inside with (8 of the usual 9) the kids.
One smarty pants little toddler decided she missed her Daddy and went outside looking for him.
She calls for him.
No answer.
She can’t see him.
But wait…there…in the driveway.
“What’s that?” she wonders in her terrible-three tiny little brain.
“Can it be?” she asks herself
“Why, I think it’s a Daddy bottle and ooooooh, he left it for me!” silently gigglin in delight she was
“I love a good Daddy bottle. It’s so much more yummy than my ucky ol’ boring one.” she hmmphs at the thought.
She looks around.
No one.
She listens keenly for any sound that would suggest Mommy was coming to take her Daddy bottle away.
Nothing.
“Yay” she thinks as she’s already on the move, toddlin’ toward that dark brown delight she knows is filled with liquid gold.
She stretches those short and chubbies just far enough to grab the neck of that father-forgotten treasure, tips it to her lips like the bottle pro she is…and chug-a-lugs.
That was the last thing I remember prior to waking up in the hospital God knows how much time later.
You see, the brew I knew and thought of as Dad’s liquid gold, was what I now call, liquid fire.
As was the custom then…and I’ve seen it again and again in the years since…these man-boys would use beer bottles as containers for gasoline when working on their carburetors. They were always plentiful, usually empty, so why buy a gas can when a beer bottle will do?
Exactly! Logic boys….logic!
The madness that followed can quite easily be imagined…and remember, this was an itsy bitsy town.
I don’t remember much of the ensuing chaos…but have heard the details often.
The boys returned to find my Mother holding me in a panic.
No other vehicle.
No hospital nor ambulance within 8 miles and 13 minutes (rural roads ya know).
And a non-breathing child turning colors no human should be.
Parents and me in the car.
Dad driving hell-bent for leather, Mom holding me.
My head out the window like a dog.
I do remember being told NOT to throw up.
I do remember having zero conscious thoughts at this time.
Arrive at the hospital alive, though I was told I didn’t take a single breath, as well as my Mother being told that it’s a miracle I didn’t vomit, for that would have been the end of my life as I knew it.
I do remember too, waking in a crib-bed with a top (?), like a cage, feeling trapped.
But, when I could, I remember looking out the window and seeing my Memere’s house and it made me feel better.
Now, all of us that are parents, know this irrefutable fact:
You CANNOT turn you back on a toddler
EVER.
Even for a second.
Because one second is one second TOO LONG!
But…I think we can all agree…it happens.
Shit happens!

“Misogynistic MINI Mechanics” or “WHOA…Them Dudes Make a Shit-ton of Dough!
After 3 weeks, I leave the Great Frozen North (a.k.a. The Northeast Kingdom) Friday, on the journey south to reclaim Mini Me and head home to Virginia on Saturday.
The hotel room near the dealership is booked so I can arrive at the service door bright and early Saturday morning to pick her up.
Speaking of the dealership…I was in contact with them today, as I had asked them to do an ‘extended’ test drive to make sure she was sound, knowing I was leaving for Virginia directly from picking her up.
Word back from the Wrench Wench was…
“The test drive went really well, the Mini’s purring, but one of her high beams is out.”
“Which one?” I ask
“Driver’s side high beam” she replies
“Really? I had that replaced in July” I remind her, since she has all the service records.
“Maybe the other dealership used an aftermarket bulb” suggested she.
“Not sure what you mean by aftermarket bulb Marissa. Last I checked, the bulbs were not MINI specific. As far as I can tell from the receipt, they installed a Sylvania 9008, which seems to be the standard.”
“Do you want us to fix it? If you do, I can order the bulb today and it will be here tomorrow.”
“Order it? You don’t HAVE one? What would that cost me Marissa?”
“$78.96”
“To replace a bulb????”
“The cost of the bulb is $13.96 plus tax. Labor to install is $69.13. And, if you had it replaced at a dealership last time, maybe they would offer a warranty on the bulb?”
“Marissa, the cost to replace that same bulb in July was $36 complete. I think charging $69 just to install a bulb is MORE than UNREASONABLE! I’m not sure why your quote is so high, but would appreciate if you could work with me on the price (not to mention, between me and the warranty company, you just got paid 8,600 bucks!”
” I can’t really speak for other dealer’s pricing. All dealerships vary around the country usually because of state differences.”
“Well, I think I’ll pass on your installing a replacement bulb and I’ll take care of it when I get home.”
Sing along with me?
I dream of Mini with the bright gold lights…
Yeah, you’d think so wouldn’t you?
I’m really not convinced this entire scenario would have played out the same way had I, been a bloke and not a sheila.
Even a sheila as mouthy as me.
Who’s to know for sure.
All I do know, is that come Saturday morning…I’m back behind the wheel, headed home.
And depending on how fast I dare to drive until I know Mini Me is with me or against me…
14 or so hours later (I’m taking the road less traveled home), I’ll be in my own bed, snugglin’ with my Sadie, and scratching my husband.

Oh wait…In my own bed, scratching my Sadie and snugglin’ my husband.
Either way…I’ll be at a Ford dealership the day after.
Depend on it!
I’ll let ya know how it goes.
🙂
Is That Wonder Woman Whistlin’ Dixie?
A short re-cap…
…and Damien ’15 now reigns

Damien declared the war of Two Ought One and Four was not over.
He was now spearheading the charge.
El Jefe sent his mangy minion “Mini Masher Mickey” to mangle my Mini

Mad as Hell Wonder Woman (that’s me…just ask my SideKick Mimi)

WW ready to kick some ‘service’ ass and take some names…

Alright…that brings us to right here and right now…
So
How DOES a mad as hell Wonder F-Ugly end up Whistlin’ Dixie?
(She puts her lips together and blows, silly)

No, seriously…
After she hangs up the phone from the conversation with the Mini Service Manager, as follows:
Manager: I have some news.
Me: Oh yeah?
Manager: The warranty inspector was here today.
Me: Yeah, so I was expecting.
Manager: He looked at the engine.
Me: Right. That’s what he was there for.
Manager: He said it was a broken Tensioner.
Me: Yeah, you told me that already. Were you unsure?
Manager: No, he just confirmed it.
Me: Good. Now what?
Manager: He agreed the engine needed to be replaced.
Me: I thought you had NEWS? (Not OLDS!) You already told me that.
Manager: I also told you in my experience, they would not pay for it.
Me: Yeah, I didn’t forget that part.
Manager: Well…
Me: Well…..what?
Manager: They agreed to cover it.
Me: Really?
Manager: Yes. They were going to cover a ‘used’ one but we ran the numbers an
it was within a couple hundred for a new one, so you’re getting a new one.
Me: I’d have gotten a new one anyway, but go on.
Manager: They are paying me directly, so all you have to cover is the new battery
and turbo oil line, which are not covered.
Me: How much?
Manager: $692
Me: You do know both the battery and that oil line were replaced last year?
Manager: Yes, but since you’re getting a new engine, we don’t want to screw around with old parts.
Me: Ok. How much are the two replacements?
Manager: $350 for the battery, $200 for the line, plus tax and labor.
Me: $350 for a battery? Jesus, what the hell is it made of?
Manager: It’s specific to Minis.
Me: Really? No other car can use it?
Manager: Well, not exactly, but this one’s housing and stuff are made specifically
for Mini.
Me: Ah, I see. (You guys figure since I’m getting a new engine paid for I may as well just suck up a 300 percent mark up on a battery.)
Well, that’s good news anyway.
Manager: I need to order the engine, and once it’s in, we’ll need a few days. You
may be able to get the car by Wednesday.
Me: Actually, I’ll be able to get the car when I can get a ride to Hartford and not before.
Manager: I’ll call you when it’s ready.
Me: I’ll wait for that call.
THAT’S how a Mad As Hell Wonder Woman ends up Whistlin’ Dixie

And pay attention Girlies (and Nerdies too)…
It pays to let people (especially people ‘helping’ you) that you’ve done your homework.
It’s good to let them know that you know that they know that they are hiding/lying to you and you know it.
Got it?
Good 🙂



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