Welcome to my blog. Thanks for coming! One day I hope my little piece of internet real estate will be home to lots of family photos, pictures of my scrapbook and card art, with some random thoughts and memories posted on a somewhat regular basis. Mostly my world is very predictable, but occasionally some excitement will find me, so visit often. Who knows what useful (or useless) information you may find here.


Saturday, August 9, 2014

Lake Memories

The time has come for our annual 4th of July family gathering at the lake!!!   

First things first, though - I don't know what's up with all the blue links in this post.  I didn't make them, and have no clue where the link will take you, so you might not want to be clicking on them.  

Now - back to The Lake!  In the olden days, when people didn't have to work 7 days a week, and holidays/weekends were a time of relaxation, our clan would gather at the lake most every weekend in the summer. 4th of July was always special, though. The whole family, and sometimes a few stragglers, would gather at the cabin for a wonderful time of outdoor fun, contraband bottle rockets, and firecrackers.  We would wait impatiently for dusk, load up all the boats, and head for The Islands for the best fireworks show around. It was as much fun watching the hundreds, maybe thousands of boats gathering perilously close, as it was to watch the skies light up like magic. The colors were vivid, and the booms were deafening.  
The adrenaline would really start to pump as the myriad of vessels would slowy disperse, moving at a snail’s pace until a safe distance from the others, each making its journey back home in the black of night.  I loved facing backwards during the trip home, to watch the red and green lights slowly fade away, like a starburst in slow motion.  It was an ominous feeling, gliding over the black waters, and I dared not trail my hands over the side of the boat, for fear of whatever might be lurking underneath. 

Once back at the cabin, we would crank up (literally) a freezer of homemade ice cream – we cousins taking turns sitting on top of the churn until our butt cheeks were as cold and frozen as the ice upon which we sat.  The menfolk would turn the crank until the ice cream would be so thick and frozen, the handle would no longer turn.  An eternity later, to us kids at least, we’d finally get to open the churn and enjoy the homemade deliciousness.  Grownups would gather around the table to play cards, and we kids would go outside to catch lightning bugs, or spin tall tales about most anything.  Far into the night, the younger generation would finally settle down.  Back in those days, there were three bedrooms upstairs with a screened porch that ran the width of the cabin.  The kids got the middle bedroom.  We’d lie in bed, whispering and giggling for a while, then the muffled voices of the grownups on the porch would lull us to sleep.  Pitch black dark it was, except for the glow of cigarettes (that thankfully, they all gave up!)  out on the porch. Next morning would find us all starving, and ready to devour the huge breakfast of bacon, eggs, grits, and toast.  The kitchen folk had a finely-tuned system for getting everything on the table, hot and steamy, for that many people.  Later on (we had to wait 30 minutes after eating!) we’d jump in the lake, where we’d stay for hours, our fingers and toes shriveled up like prunes.  Until it was time to cut the watermelon. Boat rides, zip-boarding, water skiing, and watermelon – the only things that could get us out of the water in those days.  We’d be so waterlogged that when we lay down at night, it still felt like we were bobbing on the waves.  What fun times!!!

Back then we couldn’t wait to be grownups.  So we could do whatever we wanted to.  Have our own apartment, car, job, etc.   Oh well, the grass is always greener on the other side.  (though often we find that it’s not grass at all, but astroturf!.... or if it IS grass, the reason it is so green is the fertilizer from all the CRAP you have to go through to get there)  Life as an adult isn’t what we thought it would be.  We are all blessed, for sure, and do not take our amazing family for granted.  But the adults from our childhood are now in their golden years, and we ourselves are coming face to face with our senior years.  Every day I get solicitations for a walk-in bath-tub, a Lil’ Rascal scooter, a Health Alert necklace (“I’ve fallen, and I can’t get up!”)  The years are whizzing by in warp speed.  Now, our lives are spent enjoying our own adult children and grandchildren, while at the same time, keeping a cautious eye on our aging parents.  We face and conquer challenges that we would never have dreamed of while we were kids having grand adventures on the water.  And that’s as it should be.  There is plenty enough time to be an adult with responsibilities.  

My generation of cousins is so very fortunate.  We saw each other two to three times a month, sometimes every weekend.  We spent lazy summer days and nights at Mama Nay and Daddy Bill’s house together, and we were perfectly satisfied with only our bicycles, some jack stones, and our imaginations to keep us entertained.   I wouldn’t take anything for those times with my brother and my cousins, growing up together.

Our children experienced that to a much lesser degree than did we.  As young parents ourselves, we were busy.  We saw each other for a few hours on designated family days.  Except for one or two trips that our parents (their grandparents) took them on, they didn’t experience what it’s like to spend days together, the way we did. 

And now, a new generation of children has come along, and they barely know each other. 

Time passes, things change.  We work ourselves to death, we over-commit ourselves, and somehow another year passes by. 

We don’t gather at the lake every weekend like we used to do.  We hardly gather at all any more.   With busy work schedules that no longer encompass just M-F work hours, and kids involved in every activity imaginable, it’s just impossible to get everyone together at the same time.

But we try.  And even though we will not celebrate the 4th of July on the 4th of July, in a few short hours we will gather at our old stomping ground – The Lake.  These days it’s no longer a cabin.  Joyce and Gene retired almost 30 years ago, sold their home in the city, and remodeled the cabin into a lovely home.  Though the screened porch has been turned to a day porch, and the creaky outdoor chaise lounge is no longer a focal furniture piece in the great room, “the lake” will always be “the lake”, and hold precious memories for us.  It was on those bare steps leading upstairs that Sharon, Jeff, Michael, and I were forced to watch the first man on the moon – on a tiny little black and white tv with rabbit-ears for an antenna.   We thought it was undue punishment to have to watch something so boring.  But – our parents were right.  Some day we could say we saw it, and we’d remember exactly where we were. 

With the stormy night behind us, and more forecast for the day, I am praying the sky will empty itself soon, and leave us with a nice day so we can spread out and enjoy the outdoors – and The Lake!!   We will miss those who are no longer with us.  There’s a big empty hole in our hearts because they are gone.  We will miss those who are unable to attend for various reasons.  But you're with us in spirit.  

I love this crazy family of mine.  And while there’s the usual chaos and disorganization (think herding cats) to get everyone gathered for the blessing before we eat, the love between us is palpable.  And I can’t wait to be with My People. 

Happy 4th of July, everyone!!!!

Friday, January 24, 2014

Food Face

The other day I was browsing around on Pinterest, and came across a poster that cracked me up.

Sometimes the weirdest things make me laugh.  But this one did in particular - because that's how all of us look when GiGi says she's cooking dinner for us.  I knew Whitney would appreciate this, so I sent the picture to her.  I included a message that said something like "I never got that face from you - but this is for GiGi"  To be more specific, I'm quite sure NO ONE has ever made that face with regard to my cooking.  I just knew she would find it hilarious like me.  Apple / Tree kind of thing. 

Smarty Pants that she can often be, my darling daughter sent this picture back to me with the caption:


Wasn't that mean?  I have no idea why she would be so mean to me.  But then again, this might explain it.

I get my chili from the Wendy's 99-cent menu these days.  Works out well for me (and the planet).

Monday, January 20, 2014

Lone Survivor

Where to begin.  I saw this movie on Friday, and still it haunts me.  And I hope it will haunt me for a very long time.  Military/war movies have always fascinated me.  I won't say I *enjoy* them, because that's not true.  I like to watch them, because I like the way they make me feel.  No, that's not quite right either.  I don't like the way I feel.  But the burning deep in my soul, the hot tears on my face, the searing in my heart - is a reminder of sacrifices made not only by brave soldiers, but by the families they leave at home.  Watching them helps me remember to be grateful to those who serve.  It reminds me that while I'm sitting in a climate-controlled comfortable movie seat (or my sofa at home in my jammies), that there are soldiers in faraway places whose steps are measured with danger. 

There was a time when it would irritate me to hear people criticize the government for all the wars and 'conflicts' that we involve ourselves in.  I blamed their "lack of patriotism" on liberalism.  I have no clue what it takes to run the armed forces, and how best to manage foreign policy.  But I will say this:  I firmly believe that if we were the same nation we were on December 7, 1941, there would have been no 9/11.  If this "sleeping giant" was still considered a giant by our enemies, they would leave us alone.  Instead they laugh at us and spit on us like ants, because they know we will not retaliate effectively. 

Our involvement in Middle Eastern conflicts seems too little too late.  The borders of our nation have been infiltrated by terrorists, and they live in our neighborhoods.  There may be one next door to you or me.  We can kill all the Taliban senior leaders we want to, but there will always be plenty more to take their place.  And even if we kill all of them, there is nothing to stop those living among us from carrying out their plots of destruction.  

Perhaps it is necessary to engage in warfare with these people.  But I'm thinking less and less so.  Don't misunderstand.  I will support the American soldier with all that is in me, and respect their service and dedication.  I just think I've crossed over that line and now agree with my friends who say we have no business being involved in the affairs of these foreign lands.  

Perhaps we would be better served to keep our soldiers at home, and track down the terrorists who live on our soil.... just biding their time until they strike again.  Tighten up borders, send all undocumented people home.  Stop subsidizing the education of foreigners who come here to learn technology, then take it back to their motherland and use it against us.  Stop arms trafficking.  How many American soldiers are killed with guns that the enemies got from America to start with?  Instead of worrying so much about background checks for law-abiding citizens to legally purchase guns, how about doing intelligence checks on foreigners before allowing them to enter the US?  I'll never believe that we do not posses the technology to weed these people out and take them down.  But we won't do that, because we've become such a politically correct nation that we don't want to hurt anyone's feelings (unless they claim to be Christian, then they're fair game), and we don't want to 'discriminate' against illegal aliens, or foreigners trying to come into the country. 

It was just a movie.  But when some of the scenes still flash across my mind, my eyes begin to sting again.  It was much more than just a movie.  As horrible as it was to watch, I know it can't even to begin to depict just how terrible it was in reality.  We spent 2 hours getting to know these four men, a little bit about their personal lives, and then watched them execute the skills necessary to complete their mission.  A fluke encounter with the locals was the beginning of the end.  For each of these men, there have been thousands before them who gave the ultimate sacrifice.  We would be sitting in theaters for months on end if movies were made about every mission gone bad, every brutal attack, every band of brothers who didn't make it back home.  

I have a friend who was an on point soldier in Viet Nam.  First in after a mission.  He never got over it, and requires mental health management and medication. How does one lead a normal life after witnessing such atrocities? It is hard for me to breathe, and my eyes and head will ache for days after only watching their stories. How does a human return home from war and not be changed?  I am old enough to remember the way Viet Nam soldiers were treated by those at home protesting our involvement.  (Does the name Hanoi Jane ring a bell?)  The memory sickens me.  Two of my uncles did several tours on a battleship during that war, and I would probably nut up on anyone who showed them disrespect for their service.  I once saw a stranger wearing  a baseball cap that said Viet Nam Vet.  I went over to him and gave him a hug and said "thank you".  It was all my constricted throat would allow me to say, and I barely got it out.  (I hope it was his hat!). The sight of soldiers walking through an airport just about does me in, and I can find no words - a high five, or my hand over my heart has to suffice. 

All the men in my close family are military men.  I my ownself decided to join the Air Force in 1977.  I had done everything but sign on the dotted line.  My physical was scheduled and a tentative departure date to Lackland AFB in Texas had been assigned.  At the last minute, I allowed someone to convince me that "nice girls" didn't go into the military.  I was ready, and I was willing.  (Of course, at that time, there were no active conflicts - perhaps that would have impacted my decision.) Shortly after that, I met the man I would marry, and a few years later, we had a child.  So there was no looking back, and it's one of those things that no matter how much I say "what if", I wouldn't change it, because I can't imagine not having my daughter and grandchildren.  

Freedom is not free.  That's a quote I love. And for those who fought the Revolutionary War, it is true.  For those who fought with William Wallace, it is true.  For those who fought against Hitler, it is true. Throughout the pages of history, the price of freedom has often been the bloodshed of war. However, I have a hard time equating it with what's going on in the world nowadays.  What we are doing in these snake-infested, godforsaken desert lands over there seems to have little to do with my freedom, or your freedom.  Bin-Laden is dead.  Hussein is dead. Some of their top guys are dead.  Tragically, many of our soldiers are also dead.  Yet we are not free.  We have become a slave to those who would harm us, and in the process, we are imploding from within as a country. We are prisoners of our own government and the terrorists who they can (supposedly) neither locate nor eradicate.

I hope you'll expose yourself to some of these terrible war movies from time to time, and allow your discomfort to remind you to be respectful and grateful - no matter what your personal political feeling about the military may be.  Maybe it will anger you, as it does me, at the waste of precious lives.  Hopefully it will call us all to a point of humility, and to pray (or send good thoughts - whatever you do) for these men and women, and the families they leave behind.  One day it might be our loved one coming home in a flag-draped coffin.  I pray not.

Saturday, November 30, 2013

My First Marathon! (Almost)

For many long years, I have wanted to be a runner.  Well... it would be
more accurate to say that for many  long years I have had spells of wanting to be a runner.  The determination to make it happen waxed and waned over time, and with each passing year as the (stupid) number on the scales climbed higher, the likelihood of it ever happening seemed less and less.  About two years ago, I started talking with a friend on FB who is an avid runner, and we'd talk about... running.  A recent visit to the doctor and an unpleasant experience with some medication was the (thousandth) wake up call I needed, and I knew it was time to get serious.  My friend agreed to walk with me and 'coach' me, and when I ran out of excuses as to why I couldn't do it, we finally got together.

I fully expected to die.  My job is very sedentary, and Black Friday shopping aside, I don't do much walking at all.  So I was a little worried when I realized our intended route was from SES all the way to the end of Broad Street.  This took us right in front of my childhood home, and up the killer hill just past my parents' house.  That same hill that I was never EVER able to conquer on my bike as a kid.  I was a little worried that CPR would be required before we reached the top of the incline.  Thankfully, I did not embarrass myself, nor was it necessary to dial 911 to come airlift me off the peak of the mountain hill.   We didn't quite make it all the way to the stop sign at Dooleytown Road that first day, but we got far enough over the mountain hill to smell the cow poop in the pasture by the road.  It was a defining moment for me when we reached the Finish Line.  And I was hooked.  We walked outside whenever weather and schedules permitted, and on an every-other-day-or-so basis, I diligently walked the miles on my treadmill.  (Even though that required some re-organization skills - as said treadmill had become a clothes rack and the walkway thingy was covered with unfinished glass bottle projects.)  We extended our outdoor walk a little further, so that round trip we were covering 2.6 miles each time.  So I upped my game on the treadmill to 2.6 miles as well, so I wouldn't lose my momentum.

Then something just happened, and the hands on my clock were spinning so quickly there was not enough time in the day to get the miles in.  It takes (me) a long stinkin' time to walk that far.  You'd think I would have all kinds of time on my hands, but that's simply not the case.  At any rate, before I knew it, nine days had passed without any walking.  (Hmm.. well.. that's not exactly true, either, because there WAS a shopping extravaganza expedition trip - and lemme tell ya, I did plenty of walking then, often carrying heavy bags. So I can rationalize missing nine days by saying that I did "weight training" for a good 12 hours straight!!!)

Earlier today I realized that it is the last day of the month - and I so wanted to reach my goal for the month.  So, despite a serious two-day/night sleep deficit, mental and physical exhaustion, and an extremely full schedule today, I carved out the time just so I could make my log  entry for the last day of this month.  And let me tell you what a challenge this was:  I made two trips to Athens this morning (between which I had coffee with DJ - who gave me some coupons for... oh, wait - that's a whole different story, but it necessitated the second trip to Athens).  Today was Ryan's birthday party (DJ's grandson), and I was having company over to watch the game.  And there is no word to describe the despicable shape my house was in.  Nevertheless, my stubborn self insisted on getting the numbers logged today, so I watched a little TV while I did the treadmill today.

And I'm so excited to say that I have completed my first marathon!! (almost)  Now, my athletic/runner friends might notice that I have chosen to phrase my words very carefully.  And they are wise to notice that.  When I say I 'completed' it - I mean that I walked the miles today necessary to complete the cumulative miles to make a marathon.  For those who know me, the fact that I have walked that many miles in one month is pretty wild.  As wild as I find it to know that many people run/walk that many miles (all at one time) in just a few hours.

But before you high five me and pour cold Gatorade down my back, I must confess.  I am still a few miles short of my marathon.  When I came in here to log my miles, I was elated to see my grand total of 23.2 miles.  

Until I realized that a marathon is not 23.2 miles.  It is 26.2 miles.  (Thus the "almost") Dang it.  I hate anything to do with numbers, and I've been so fixated on being able to achieve a 5K (3.1 miles) in one session, that I guess that "three" stuck with me and I was thinking 23.2 miles.  So, I'm a little bummed about that.  

But on the other hand, I'm high-fiving my ownself, because I am shocked and amazed that it only took me three weeks and five days to walk 23.2 miles.  Oh, and I might add ... whenever we are crossing an intersection, sometimes I do pick up the pace enough to be considered a lazy man's jog.  ;-)

While I'm sad that I didn't do as well as I thought I would, it's just like the silly number on the scale.  Of course, I hope the number on the scales will go down, and my miles-walked number will go up.  

I've set my goal for the month of December to walk 30 miles.  Not sure how often we'll get to walk outdoors, but there's really no excuse not to use the treadmill.  I'm already a little nervous about adding 6.8 miles for the month - because I know it will be a crazy, busy time.  But I'm hoping the resolve to continue will be strong, and I have the stamina (and time) to do it. 

But all the same - if you see me laid out on Broad Street in sweats and sneakers with buzzards circling overhead, please notify the authorities...

Monday, November 4, 2013

A Month's Worth of Thankful

Each year many of my Facebook friends do a really neat thing -
For every day of November, they post something for which they are thankful.  I tried it one year, but somehow I seemed to miss a day here and there, so one year, I just listed 30 things that I'm thankful for right here in a single blog post. One for every day of the month.  I thought I'd take that approach again this year, especially since I have already missed several days at the beginning of the month.

Some items on my list are lighthearted, and won't mean anything to all but a few. But that doesn't mean that I'm not seriously thankful for all my blessings.  There are far too many to list only 30, but here's a start, and after #1, in no particular order:

1. Jesus!
2. Grace and mercy - both the ability to give and the honor to receive.
3. The passage of time -for there are some wounds which only heal with the passage of time.  (And when I read this post from November of last year, I am reminded of this truth, and how far I have come.)
4. Three dear friends who are beating breast cancer - who fight with dignity and grace.  You girls are my heroes.
5. The most awesome daughter, and the special closeness we share.  She calls me The Best Mom In The History Of The World, Living Or Dead.  Love that girl of mine!
6. Surprises in the mail.
7. My kitties, a never-ending source of entertainment and company.
8. Daily devotions.
9. The Internet.
10. The opportunity and ability to create and craft things with my hands.
11. Our new pastor.
12. Saturday morning coffee with Debbie Jo (and all the fabulous meals they share with me!)
13. Closed doors and opened windows.
14. The best parents ever, who are healthy and happy, and able to enjoy life in their golden years.
15. The desire and ability to forgive and not hold grudges.
16. Sunday Night Church on the patio at DJ's
17. Cousins, Aunts and Uncles, Nieces and Nephew.
18. A job, a home, and all the "things" we daily take for granted.
19. Play dates and sleepovers with the grand kids. Little arms around my neck, and sweet voices that say "I love you, Greemaw."
20. A song in my heart, that even in the crappiest of times - though its volume may fade - can't be completely silenced.
21. The palette of autumn colors.
22. The best kid brother in the history of the universe.
23. The ability to see both sides (or many sides) of an issue, and listen with an open mind to those whose thoughts/beliefs/opinions differ from mine.  And the ability to respectfully disagree without trying to manipulate or convince them that mine are better, or more right than theirs.
24. Living in The Hood with the best neighbors ever.
25. The American soldier.
26. A story to tell.  
27. A great relationship with Whitney's dad and step-mom.  Former In-Laws and Bennett folks that I love.
28. School teachers.
30. A renewed determination to get off my butt and move.  Join me for a walk?

Wow.  It was truly hard to limit it to just 30.  I will make a concentrated effort every day of every month to not only have a thankful attitude for all my blessings in general, but to list at least one specific thing for which I am grateful each day. 

I hope you'll take a moment each day to remember your blessings. And here's hoping you won't have to look far to find them. Happy November!!!

Saturday, October 5, 2013


President Obama is rockin’ the shutdown thing. He is stirrin’ up the stink pot.  Like a rock star at a concert, he stirs his followers into a frenzy.  A frenzy of fury against the Republican party.  The angrier and more frustrated Americans get because of the shutdown inconveniences, the stronger the frenzy will grow.  Seems like kind of a sweet deal for him!!  At every turn, he points fingers and lays blame.  And I’d be willing to bet that he’s enjoying every minute of it.

Elaborating on the fact that the FBI, Homeland Security, CIA, (et al) are short-staffed, makes us even more susceptible to terrorist attacks.  Which means that, God forbid, if there IS some kind of terrorist event, the Republicans will be blamed for that as well.   Everything that is a bad thing in the eyes of Democrats is the irrefutable fault of the Republican Party.  I suppose they get points for having Their Guy in office, and maybe that gives them the upper hand with The Media, (since we all know who runs the media anyway…) but do they honestly think that their enemies The Republicans don’t feel the same way about them?  That everything is their fault? For every rock slung in one direction, there’s an equally nasty rock slung from the other.

I don’t understand why the shutdown is the sole fault of the Republicans.  Mr. Obama said today on his lunch outing that “this could be over today”.  Yeah.  It could be over today if he gets HIS way.  Why is it okay for the Dems to stand their ground, but the Repubs are the bad guys for not caving? 

All that said, to be fair, I’m quite certain that if the roles were reversed, with a Republican-seated president, things would probably play out the same way.  The Rep president would be blaming the shutdown on the Dems.  It’s all in the spin.  I get that.

Reading articles and listening to political discussions (though I have learned not to believe anything I hear or read) is interesting – but even more interesting than the articles/interviews themselves are the responses from readers/listeners.  Every article/interview is, of course, heavily biased – which makes it fun seeing how people respond.  Balancing it out, realizing that real truth lies somewhere toward the middle of the extremes of both sides, I find it very interesting (and often entertaining) to read or hear the viewpoints of people from all walks of life. 

I was listening to talk radio today (with my cynical filter on high alert), and heard the story of a couple from Mississippi who has been taking WWII Army veterans to DC twice a year for the past three or four years. They spoke of their many trips with these veterans and how emotional it is, and how much it means to them to go. We heard the story earlier in the week about how they wouldn’t be allowed to visit the memorial because of the shutdown.  When they arrived, and were able to get in despite it being closed, they were astounded that there were more guards walking around keeping people out than there are normally guards on site when it is open.  How much more did it cost the government to “shut it down”, than it would have cost to just keep it open?

Another caller said her parents are in France this weekend celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary.  They were planning to visit the memorial at Normandy and the cemetery where two of the caller’s great uncles were buried, and the hospital where another great uncle was treated.  The parents texted their daughter last night telling her these places were closed.  The trip of a lifetime, to pay respect to their family members, and they didn’t get to go.

Jan Brewer posted that she had offered to use state money to keep the Arizona portion of the Grand Canyon open.  The federal government declined her offer.  Several businesses have reportedly offered to do the same, but their offers have also been declined.


Regarding Obamacare: I read an article earlier today that said They are trying to keep people from getting health care. This is the disaster the Republicans hope to prevent by shutting down the government.” And “The reason the Republicans are prepared to go to the wall to stop Obamacare is simple: They are terrified that people will get it and like it.”

Really?  That’s the best they’ve got?  Republicans are “trying to keep people from getting health care”?  and they are “terrified people will like it”?  Those are some of the more  asinine  statements I’ve heard to date. 
I believe you’d be hard pressed to find any American, regardless of party, who would not agree that our healthcare system is broken and needs fixing.  Healthcare in America is a big black hole.  Most people blame the providers for ‘overcharging’.  And there are some who do.  But the picture is so much bigger than the cost of an office visit or an ER visit.  The major players in the black hole are Insurance Companies, and perhaps the biggest player (though his part is often unrealized by John Q Public), is the One Call, That’s All attorney who comes into your living room every day and night with promises to make you rich off the negligence of someone else.  Without tort reform, this will never change. Yearly malpractice premiums could feed a small country of starving children, and have resulted in the closed doors of practitioners and Emergency Rooms in many places throughout the country.

Those of us over the age of 45-50 can remember a time when, if you had three insurance policies, and you broke your arm, you might actually end up making money.  The insurance companies cottoned onto that and started coordinating benefits, and put a stop to that practice.  Then insurance companies started dictating what fees they would pay for certain diagnoses and procedures.  

I have worked in healthcare for 37 years – in many different capacities.  My first job as a medical assistant was in 1976, when the world was a much different place.  Doctors had time to take care of their patients, and the receptionist didn’t have to worry about calling five different automated phone numbers to see whether or not the patient could be treated at their office.  If a patient needed lab tests, x-rays, or even surgery, it was scheduled, performed, and the insurance company paid for it, far more often than not.

I’ve done my time as a receptionist as well.  I’ve made those endless phone calls to automated numbers, left messages for someone to call me back – while the patient sat in the waiting room for someone behind a desk hundreds of miles away to grant or deny our treatment.  I had to hold my tongue as a young mother screamed at me that I was prejudice against her because our office didn’t accept Medicaid, and what was she supposed to do? Our office did accept Medicaid for patients who met certain requirements:  those who were seen in the ER when our physicians were on service call.  This patient did not meet the criteria, and was referred to the office of the physicians who were on call when they went to the ER.  As the courteous receptionist I tried to always be, I attempted to explain the mutually agreeable arrangement between our office, the ER, and the other specialty providers in town, but she continued to scream and yell.  The irony here was that (at that time) with Medicaid she could take her kids to the doctor whenever they were sick, with very few limitations – but I, as a single mom working my rear end off, couldn’t afford to take my child to the doctor every time she sneezed, even though I had insurance.  If not for medication samples and the kindness of my bosses treating her when she was sick, it would have been really tough for me.  So, what I wanted to do, instead of stand behind the window and try to calmly talk to this mom, was to follow her out in the parking lot and scream at her, and tell her that I was a single mom trying to take care of my child too, and for her to get off her butt, get a job and stop depending on the government, and then I might be able to feel a little compassion for her.  But, thankfully, my better judgment won, and I maintained my professional composure. (And kept my job. Ha!)

Oops… not sure how/why I got off on that tangent.  My blood pressure went up a little bit just recalling that incident.

As a medical transcriptionist, I’ve spent many hours composing/transcribing letters of appeal to insurance companies who have denied benefits, or pleading with a bureaucrat behind a desk somewhere to allow a patient to have a medically-necessary procedure/surgery. 

As accounts payable, I have seen the astronomical amount of money it takes to run an office.  Numbers are not my forte – and those were some really big numbers!!!

As accounts receivable, I have seen the tremendous amounts of money written off based on the insurance companies’ “usual, reasonable, and customary” allowance. (Don’t kid yourself.  The insurance companies are a bigger part of the problem than they will ever be the solution.)   

As collections manager, I have spoken on the phone with patients who make every effort to pay their delinquent accounts, and also with those who couldn’t give a rip about what they owed. 

And on the subject of “doctors charge too much”.  Lordy.  I truly don’t need to get started on that.  This post is much too long already.  But I will.

Tell me.  When your loved one is in the ER after an accident with a bone protruding through her leg, or your child has been diagnosed with leukemia, or you have been diagnosed with a detached retina with imminent blindness – the most important thing in the world is getting the very best medical care available.  At that moment, money is not an issue.  Life and well-being trumps everything.  Many of us pray, but even for those of us who do, in these moments, the next miracle worker under God is the physician, and we want the best.

Until we get the bill.  Then we are sometimes overwhelmed, and/or outraged.  Especially when our insurance company tells us “your doctor charged too much”.  Who hasn’t heard that before?  Just another finger-pointing blame game.  You don’t hear “we need to make a big fat profit, so we’re only going to pay a miniscule portion your bill”, rather it’s “your provider charged too much.”

Yeah, your doctor “charges too much” because it doesn’t matter what he charges, most insurance companies will only pay pennies on the dollar, so the write offs for insured patients are huge.  Then there’s Medicare and Medicaid, whose reimbursement formulas are laughably pathetic.  The private pay patient, then, is left with the inflated cost, with nobody setting usual, reasonable and customary fees for him/her.  Many of these patients are hard-working, responsible people who will faithfully make payments every month for years on end in order to clear their account.  Is that fair? No, of course not.  It’s part of what needs fixing.  Other self-pay patients have no intention of paying one thin dime from the minute they walk through the door. Is that fair? No, of course not. That’s another part that needs fixing.

As patients, we complain that the doctor wasn’t in the room with us five minutes, never touched us, barely made eye contact, then charged us $120.00 to refill our blood pressure medication.  Maybe that’s because for the five minutes he spends in the room with us, he must spend at least another 10-15 minutes making sure everything is perfectly documented, arranging for whatever testing we may need, writing a letter to our insurance company begging for approval, reviewing prior test results before he walks in the room, etc.  There is so much more that goes on behind the scenes that patients do not see.

Do some doctors make a ton of money?  Yes, many of them do. And, while I have my favorites, and some not-so-favorite, I haven’t yet met a doctor who did not deserve every penny he ever made, and then some.  There is something wrong with people who think it is okay for an athlete (who may or may not even have graduated high school)  to make millions of dollars every year for doing something he’d be doing for free in the empty lot down the street anyhow – yet the man or woman who trains for 10-12 (or more) years to remove the plaque from your arteries, or re-route those arteries so that you can live another 30 years – has to justify living in a nice home, or driving an expensive car.  That is crazy talk.  We don’t begrudge movie stars, rock stars, country stars, or billionaire entrepreneurs their lavish lifestyles, but the surgeon who transplants a liver into the belly of our dying teenager has to fight with an insurance company to be paid for his services? Again – crazy.

Nancy Pelosi told us that we must pass the bill, so we can find out what is in it.  The article I read today said  “The lack of adequate cost controls and other problems like it are items that can be fixed once the program is in place.

Umm.. sorry, that doesn’t offer much comfort or reassurance.  Like they have “fixed” Medicare, Social Security, and the Post Office?

It will be interesting to see how it all plays out.  So many unanswered questions.  The logistics just don’t work.  Earlier rants on this subject can be seen here.

I do not like President Obama as the leader of our nation – that’s no secret.  However - as I say often: I only vote Republican because I don’t want to vote Democrat, and right now, there is no other viable choice. Party affiliation aside - the behavior of our elected officials is despicable.

I’ll end this post by saying to my Democrat friends who are on board with Obamacare:  I pray you are right.  I would like nothing better than for Obamacare to be the answer to healthcare that we have long needed.  I hope my concerns are for naught, and I would love nothing more than for all of the Republican doomsday predictions to be wrong.  I would happily give credit where credit is due.  I don’t care if it’s a donkey or an elephant.  I think I speak for many who oppose the ACA:  Now that it has been forced upon us, prove us wrong.  Please.

But in the meantime, get your act together, put on your big boy/big girl britches, stop blaming each other, get back to work, and fix this thing.  

Friday, September 27, 2013


My Kid Brother

An angel came down from heaven one night, 
And made a big sister of me. 
And though Mommy said it would happen some day,
It was not all that I thought it would be.
The baby smelt funny and cried all the time,
And Mommy, she always was tired
This baby was simply no fun at all!
If I was his boss he'd be fired!
But as he got older, he got kinda cute,
And one day he smiled up at me!
And when he was able to sit up and play,
It was then I was able to see,
That someday he might be a very good friend,
A brother I really could love,
And I could thank God for sending to me
This wonderful gift from above.

Through years of friendship, laughter, and tears, from playing in the sandpile to seeing who could flick boogers the farthest, from fussing and fighting to sharing secrets, from sharing cokes and popcorn at the movies to fighting over mom's fried okra:  This little boy has grown into the most amazing man, and I am so honored to call him brother and friend.  The problems of the world would be greatly diminished and perhaps even resolved if more men exhibited the qualities of kindness, wisdom, and integrity that are seen in my brother.  Even though he lived to embarrass me in front of my boyfriends, and annoyed the crap out of we girls when I had sleepovers, I can't imagine another person on earth with whom I would want to share my DNA. 

Michael - I love you with all my heart.  I admire who you are, what you have become, and what you are doing every day to make this world a better place.  I appreciate what you do for your family, and how you never fail to champion your big sister.   

You are my hero. 

Love, Cat 

Tiny little baby!

I decided we could keep you after all.

No fair.  You got the gorgeous eyes!

Always one of my favorite pictures of you.


Still pals

Pals for the duration.

Proud Dad!

Father's Day 2013

Celebrating with your beautiful bride.

Linda's birthday weekend on the lake

Doing what you love!

Wild Bill's in Atlanta


The Band

Getting ready for Hippiefest 2013 (with a little help from Lucy)

Best Brother Ever. Really.

Happy 50th Birthday!!!!!!!!!

Friday, July 19, 2013

Morning Walk

My dear friend and co-worker, Cheryl, hooked me up with a daily e-mail called God's Minute.  She is in the midst of treatment for breast cancer, and has shared how this daily e-mail has often hit her right where she needed it (much the way I feel about my Jesus Calling book).  I signed up for it, and most days will give it a quick look, though I must confess, some busy days I just delete it without reading.  I almost deleted it today, because it has been a busy morning, but I opened it for a quick peek.

I absolutely love it when I come across a little love-note, seemingly written especially for me.

Tucked amidst the affirmations and Scriptures, I found this little poem.  And it spoke to me.

And, as it so often happens, this one is perfectly timed for my reading... on this particular date.

Morning Walk

          Amidst the dew of early dawn,
          I took a morning walk.
          And along with me, I took a Friend,
          For I felt a need to talk.
          I unburdened both my heart and soul,
          And spoke many things:
          Of plans gone wrong, of failure's pain,
          And how to live with shattered dreams.
          My Friend just listened quietly,
          And uttered not a word.
          For it was His time to listen,
          And my time to be heard.
          His sympathetic ear brought peace,
          As we walked this earthly sod.
          And I learned to trust life again,
          On my morning walk with God.
Poet, Barbara Cagle Ray

Thursday, July 11, 2013

Soggy Tumbleweeds and The F Word

Yes, it's another day of rambling thoughts.  And if I don't tell you now, I'll forget.  It's stuff I want to talk about.  I have a few hours of down time from the job, and I know you're just dying to read what thoughts are tumbling around in my brain.


Mushrooms:  Odd little statues of fungi!  I've been joking for several days about 
the crop of mushrooms sprouting in my armpits.  The rain and dark skies just keep ON hanging around.  The ground is saturated, many basements have flooded, including at My Parents' House and the Bernius House, and yet the rains keep coming.  The Oconee County Sheriff's Office Facebook page posted this yesterday:  "BOLO (be on the lookout for) a large wooden ark said to be occupied by two animals of every kind. Ark is piloted by a man named Noah who may be releasing doves. The ark was last seen heading in the direction of Mount Ararat. Any contact, either hop aboard or follow to high ground."  

I'm beginning to think it is a personal lawn mower conspiracy against me - my 30-day return guarantee will expire before I get a chance to try it out, if this keeps up!!  The yard is a mud-jungle of soggy dandelion shoots, that would probably burst forth in tiny yellow blooms, if the sun would only shine long enough!!   A little bit ago I walked over to talk to my neighbor for a few minutes.  As we were chatting, I happened to notice this mushroom standing tall and proud underneath the pine trees between our houses.  I've seem them everywhere lately, even invading my flower beds, but mostly the ones I have seen are a whitish-tan color.  I do believe this is the first black mushroom I've ever seen growing around here.  It is quite large.  The dome is probably a tiny bit bigger than the palm of my hand.  I'm wondering if we've discovered a Shiitake farm?  I don't think I'll be adding it to my salad, or cooking it on the grill, though it's about the size of a Whopper patty.  There are a few smaller ones growing nearby, but I think I'll just let them grow in peace. Well, as peaceful as it can be here in The Hood - with kids and grandkids and golf carts and puppies and kitties... and all such manner of things that make up Home Sweet Home here in The Hood.  The only thing missing is a fat, green toad sitting nearby.  But we all know how I feel about toads, so....  


Penmanship:   Before The Great Mushroom Discovery, I walked swam down to the end of the driveway to put some outgoing mail in the box. One of my clients sends me a written contract each year that I have to sign and return.  The old fashioned way.  With pen and ink, on a real piece of paper.  I can still sign my name fairly well, but as I started to address the (paper) envelope, the pen felt somehow odd in my hands.  I have arthritis in my hands/fingers, and the damp weather has made even the simplest tasks a little bit uncomfortable, but I think it was more than that.  I had to stop and try to remember the last time I had even held a pen in my hand and did anything other than jot down a phone number, or a patient name, or something really quick.  I was shocked to realize that I do not remember the last time I wrote anything of significance by hand. I'll admit it.  I'm totally electronic-dependent.  I make my grocery lists and Notes To Self on my cell phone.  I "write" correspondence via e-mail.  All my work is done on the computer. Today I have learned that I'm in trouble without my keyboard, and my handwriting is chicken-scratch.  Though my penmanship has never been what you'd call "pretty", it has always been pretty much legible and uniform.   Being able to type fast is my bread and butter, and as such, I can type up a three page report way faster than I can hand-write one paragraph.  I think I need to get back to the basics, and stop being so dependent on all these electronic gadgets.  How sad that holding a pen and writing was almost painful, and that the writing looked so hideous.  Maybe Corey and Leyland will let me use their writing pads for practice.  


Pizza:  Have you ever wondered whether it makes a difference if you remove the cardboard thingy before putting the pizza on the pan to cook?  Nah, me neither.  But in case you ever did wonder, let me just go on ahead and tell you.  Yes.  Yes, it does.  Right now I'm having lunch, and I'm munching on my very own personal Freschetta Naturally Rising Pizza. I even added more veggies and mozzarella cheese on top to upgrade things a little bit.  The top looked nice and brown, the cheese was all bubbly, and the crust had done its "self rising" thing.  Took it out of the oven to find that I had forgotten to remove the cardboard.  In my defense, the cardboard was much smaller than the pizza itself, and the pizza so thick that I just didn't even look. It still tastes pretty good, but the center crust didn't get quite as done as it should have.  So, yes.  It matters.  Let me type write myself a note to remember to check next time.  


All or None:  This issue may have been resolved and a decision may already be in the books, but I have a gripe with the Barrow County School System.  Mary will be attending the new middle school here in Statham this fall, and there has been talk about school uniforms.  I personally think it would be a simpler and less expensive (in the long-run) alternative to wear uniforms.  But - there's that rebellious part of me that says "why should the government tell us how to dress our kids."  I know there are lots of good arguments FOR uniforms.  No problem at all if you send your children to private school.  That's pretty much standard practice.  But I'm still not comfortable with the thoughts of the government taking away yet another "choice", or "freedom".  What's even more heinous than that, is there is talk that wearing uniforms to the new middle school might be "optional".  OPTIONAL?  SERIOUSLY? Aside from the initial expense, what parent wouldn't opt for uniforms?  No more arguing over what to wear to school.  No more missed buses because Jane can't find her designer jeans, or Harry can't find his Falcons football jersey.  Laundry would be greatly simplified - dump a week's worth of school clothes in the washer/dryer and be done with it!  Less pressure on the not-so-fortunate kids to measure up wardrobe-wise.  But, optional?  Who wants to be the kid wearing school uniforms (because their parents made them), while other kids continue to enjoy self expression in their fashion choices?  Honestly.  I hope the issue has been resolved by now. If not, then we need to refer the People In Charge back to that all wise and wonderful Dr. Seuss concept we learned about in The Sneetches.  That should set them straight.  Do it, or don't do it.  But do it the same for everyone.  Mandate it (which I still disagree with), or Forget it.  


All or None Part 2:  And while I'm being grumpy about the schools, I also have a bone to pick with the State.  Pre-K.  I'm not saying Pre-K is a bad thing.   (But we do realize that our children are being raised 14 years of their lives by the government, right?  They are taught what is right and true and real... based on what our government wants them to learn.  Kinda scary!!)  But I digress.  Here again - Pre-K should be an all-or-none deal.  My grandchildren were fortunate enough to get selected, by some kind of random lottery system that I can't explain, to attend "free" Pre-K in the public school.  This program is funded by the Georgia Lottery folks, the same ones who fund the HOPE scholarship for college tuition.  Okay, that's a cool thing.  But let's be fair about it. We have a friend whose child (along with many others) didn't get selected in that random lottery thing, and these kids didn't get to go to the same Pre-K program that all the other kids did.  Their parents had two choices:  Pay to put them in a private program, or don't go at  all. That is absurd.  How unfair to the children, to the parents, and to the Pre-K teachers! Either make it a law to go to Pre-K and have all children go, or take it out of the school system altogether.  


HOPE:  I have long said that being able to go to college is a wonderful thing, but it is not required by law.  Children are required by law to attend school.  One study quoted by the AJC is that out of ten students who enter college with HOPE, only three will hold onto it the entire four years.  I understand that HOPE is the only way some kids could ever *hope* to attend college.  But... I wonder if that money wouldn't be wiser spent on better educating kids in grades K-12.  Even if it meant dropping Pre-K. College and Pre-K are not mandatory.  Again, I understand the wonderful opportunity that HOPE gives to a lot of kids, but many of these kids can't keep HOPE simply because they are in culture shock when they go from hometown high school to college.  Just because a kid has a 3.0 GPA in high school, does not mean they are ready for college.  And it seems an awful lot of money is *wasted* (for lack of a better word) on a few semesters of college, when that money could have been spent to better educate the student during K-12. However- Hear me clearly on this:  I am NOT laying any of the fault of crappy education on the backs of teachers.  Teachers are my heroes.  There are so many amazing teachers in Barrow County. My grandchildren have been blessed with the most amazing teachers on the planet, and we love them and truly appreciate them!! Unfortunately, they are restricted by what they can and can't do, or say, or teach.  Political Correctness trumps truth and common sense nowadays, and teachers are caught in the middle.  I say they do a fabulous job within the restrictions of the government, but WOW how different would it be, with technology today, if teachers were free to teach like back when I was a kid!!


The F Word:  We all know the word of which I speak.  The one that stand-up comedians love to use, and that Hollywood loves to weave into movie scripts.  The F-Bombs that get bleeped on awards shows and late-night talk shows.  Well, imagine my shock and horror when one day my mom called me up and informed me that "Corey said the F word today."  Whaaaaaaaaaat???   But hold on a minute... GiGi's idea of the F word is a little different from everyone else's.  She has always hated the word *fart* and just cringes and almost goes into seizures whenever one of us says the word. (So, of course, we do it just to get her riled up....) I do believe she hates it almost as much as the "real" F word.  Nowadays the word is considered part of everyday language, and ... well, it just is what it is... and isn't even considered a funny word any more.  But yeah, it is kinda funny when Corey says it because of they way he pronounces his "r" sound.  So when he says "faht", it rhymes with "hot".  And my mom just goes off the deep end.  It is so hilarious.  So yesterday, I get an e-mail from Amazon.Com about a free Kindle download.  I have Kindle reader on all  my devices, so I went to Amazon to check out the free book.  Because I'm all about some Free Stuff.  I nearly fell out of my chair when I saw the title of the book:  The Boy Who Farted and Flew to the Moon.  I kid you not.  So of course I simply HAD to download the book.  It is hilarious, and uses the word so matter-of-factly in the story that, unless you had been raised all your life thinking it was a *bad word*, you just wouldn't think anything about it.  I couldn't wait to call my mom and read it to her.  She almost choked on her sweet tea. Then I called my Aunt Peggy, who absolutely adores the word, and we got my mom on a three-way call. Right there on the phone, I read them the story about of Tommy, a unfortunate kid with a serious flatulence problem, and how he turned it into an outer-space adventure.  It seems like silly stuff, although a subject that some (like Dear Old Mom) would find highly objectionable in the children's section of the library, and of little value literature-wise.  However, I say if it will get kids to read, and since it's not a foreign concept to ANYONE (we all do it, whether we talk about it or not...) then let 'em have at it.  There are some subjects, of course, that are inappropriate reading for children, but I think you'll hook more kids with a fart book than you will The Good Earth by Pearl S. Buck.  (No offense, Ms. Buck - but I detested every nanosecond I was forced to read from that book!!!)  If a kid learns to love reading, it is their ticket to the universe, and they need never ever be bored in life.  So, Fart On, Tommy!!!!

For your own free Kindle version, visit Amazon.Com and type the title into the search box.  I think it will be available for free download until midnight tonight.  

And with that final shout-out to literacy, I shall wrap up this version of Tumbleweeds.