Posts Tagged ‘insurance’

Unfortunately

January 7, 2018

That’s not covered by your insurance.

My dentist told me this morning.

Ugh.

I sat in the chair and thought to myself, maybe I misheard him, maybe I didn’t hear that right, I mean, he speaks mostly Chinese, which I find oddly comforting, I don’t need to know what he is talking about to his assistant, but I’m pretty sure I had heard what I had heard.

Fingers crossed, please, tell me I didn’t hear what I heard.

Sigh.

But.

I had.

“Crack,” he’d said to the assistant in between poking and prodding and checking my teeth.

I was just in for a routine cleaning this morning.

I had all intents on going to the 10:30 a.m. yoga at the studio on my block and then meandering into my group supervision at 2p.m.

The supervision happened.

Yoga, well, yoga did not.

Nope.

Instead I was under the drill all morning.

My dentist took a picture of my tooth and showed me the crack.

I was surprised by how big it was and also that I hadn’t had any pain to indicate that there was a crack in my tooth.

Which was a really good thing.

No pain meant that it was probably fairly recent.

It had to have happened within the last three months, it wasn’t there the last time I went to the dentist, and it probably had occurred more recently than that.

Certainly nothing came to mind.

Nothing that I remember eating and doing any damage to my teeth.

“It’s not grinding your teeth while you sleep,” he said, answering a question I was just about to pose, “there’s not indication from any of your other teeth that you grind them while you sleep.”

Well, that’s good news.

“You eat anything crunchy?” He asked.

“Nuts?” I said, I do like raw almonds with my apple as a snack.

“Nuts, no good, nuts bad for teeth, you no more eat nuts unless you want to pay me big bucks and keep me in my mortgage,” he chuckled.

“Um no, I do not want to come back for another cracked tooth, I’ll lay off the nuts,” I replied.

Irony.

I kept thinking about my night-time snack, a couple of end of season super ripe and delicious persimmons and some raw walnuts.

Sigh.

No snack tonight.

I’ll still have my tea though.

I was really surprised by the photo and super glad that my dentist had caught it and he explained that I was lucky if there was no pain it meant the damage was manageable and that I would not have to have a root canal.

Fuck yes.

But.

I would have to get a crown.

And thus ensued the “your insurance doesn’t cover this,” discussion I had with my dentist.

Like I said, not really the conversation anyone wants to have on a Saturday morning, but I also knew when he started telling me about the differences between what my insurance would cover, it wasn’t going to cover the full amount, it would have still be $825 out-of-pocket, versus the better quality crown that the dentist was recommending, at $1200, I just sucked it up, made the decision to take good care of myself and signed the paperwork for the better product.

I was asked if I could start the work today and of course I said yes, bye, bye yoga class, and I went out and plugged the meter for parking another two hours and went back into the office, used the bathroom, prayed a bunch, came out signed off the paperwork and got ready to get injected with Novocaine.

He gave me a local, but I still felt the prick of the needle.

Ugh.

I hate needles.

I hate shots, hate, hate, hate.

The second injection was horrible, the local anesthesia hadn’t quite numbed me out in the second location, that one just plain good and hurt.

I sucked it up though, what was I going to do?

And then the dentist went to fucking town.

My god.

I will just say that smell of my tooth being ground down was overwhelming.

Not a pleasant smell, the drill, not a pleasant sound.

The taste of blood in mouth, horrifying.

I just breathed and prayed and breathed and prayed.

I had my mouth wedged open with some sort of device, that also sucks, frankly, it hurt my jaw keeping it open so long and my face felt tender for hours.

As of right now, I am happy to report, that the pain is really ok.

It’s there, sensitive now and again, a dull throb, but it’s doable.

And I have been able to eat.

They did a bunch of molds to get the fit right and then they did the temporary crown.

The permanent one takes two weeks to be ready.

I have to be cautious with the temporary one, nothing crunchy, and no gum.

I can handle that.

And two weeks from today I’ll go in and my dentist will give me the permanent crown.

I am assuming it will mean more Novocaine, but I’ve got two weeks until it happens.

I’m a baby around dental stuff, but at least I showed up and I did do the work and I paid for it all in full at the end of the session, I could have put it off until the permanent crown gets put in, but I figured I had the money in my account, just pay the damn thing.

And for that I am grateful.

I had the money.

I didn’t always have the money.

A little while ago a dental bill for $1285 would have floored me.  It was not pleasant, I will say that, and I did go through a spurt of brief financial anxiety, but I’m ok, I really am.

And so grateful I chose well and chose to take care of myself and my mouth.

There was a homeless man on the sidewalk sleeping when I came out to climb into my new car and go home and make myself a fancy espresso drink with expensive organic coffee beans.

I have it really fucking good.

I have no money problems.

Fuck.

I don’t have problems.

I just have opportunities to learn.

And.

To be stupid grateful at how good my life is.

It really is.

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It’s A Matter Of Safety

September 20, 2017

He said to me on the phone.

Sigh.

I know he’s right.

He also said, “I feel it in my bones, it’s going to be a heavy rain season again.”

Ugh.

Yeah.

It feels like that to me too.

And so.

The ruminating has been happening around getting myself a car.

I have some hesitation.

Money.

But.

I also have.

For the first time in 13 years, a credit card.

And.

I have a desire to not be wet.

I don’t want to be wet at work from riding my bicycle in the rain.

I did that for ten years commuting around the city, every rainy season, months of being wet and cold.

Then not quite two years ago, in November, I bought a scooter.

It’s been revelatory.

It has gotten me all over the city faster and quicker and easier than hill climbing on my one speed.

It has saved me a lot of time.

It also has given me small heart attacks as I have to be super aggressive in my riding and also super defensive.

It’s like I have to be a mind reader on the road.

I’m not as visible, people don’t look, cars merge without checking, I’m on a scooter and I’m not as noticeable as a car.

I know when I’m in someone’s blind spot and that makes me feel freaked out, I do my best to stay far away from that.

Don’t get me started on Uber and Lyft drivers, especially the ones that don’t live in the city.

And.

The rain.

Last year I took a lot of cars during the rainy season.

That could still be an option for me.

Although I hate waiting for them and I don’t like the car share, although I opt for it most often when I do take a car.

I do like staying dry though.

And I was nervous about riding to Glen Park on my scooter when it rained.

I take Lincoln Avenue from 46th to 7th, up 7th Avenue until it becomes Laguna Honda, then I cut over towards Diamond Heights and take a bunch of little roads up and over.

The hills can be steep and slippery and I have had moments when the fog has been super dense where the roads are slick and I’ve slipped.

I haven’t gone down.

But I have felt that horrible slide of my back wheel on wet paint.

That’s what freaks me out the most and when there was that big rain and thunderstorm I was not a happy camper coming home on my scooter.

I know I would be safer in a car.

And.

Well, dryer.

It’s a big change for me, and even though it could be a great change, I get nervous, will I have enough?

And I think I do.

I mean.

Yes, the money I have in savings is ear marked for travel and yes, the reason, a big part of why I have money in savings is from my student loans.

So.

On one hand I fucking owe that money back to Sally Mae anyhow.

What would it look like if I got a car?

Cons.

Taxes, license, insurance.

Cons.

Parking.

Although, I could swing it.

And here’s why–I live in the Outer Sunset, it’s still a challenge to park out here but it’s not the Mission.

Also.

I work in Glen Park and the street that my family lives on who I nanny for is not a horribly busy street.  It doesn’t have parking restrictions, no hourly restraints, just a no parking the 2nd Friday of the month for Street cleaning.  And the street cleaning hours are typically over by the time I get to work.

There’s plenty of street parking at work.

And.

By the time I get to my internship, most days, business hours are over and there’s parking on the block that my internship is on.

So.

In actuality, the parking, though an issue, is not as bad as it would be elsewhere in the city.

Cons.

It might take longer to get to work.

I lane split on my scooter.

Hell.

I speed on my scooter.

Not a lot, but enough, usually it’s to get me out in front of traffic so that I’m moving in the clear.

One can’t lane split in a car, even if it’s a tiny car.

I’m thinking Fiat at the moment.

Which is a smaller car, but not as small as a scooter.

So.

If I took the car to work or to my internship I would probably have to pad extra time into my commute.

Not impossible, just a small draw back.

Con.

The cost of gas will be higher, insurance will go up, maintenance on the car will be more than for my scooter.

Ok.

Now.

The Pros.

I wouldn’t be wet at work, or cold.

I wouldn’t worry about the slippery roads.

Visibility would be much, much, much better.

Riding in a helmet that fogs up or gets rain splatter on it makes visibility super hard, there are no windshield wipers on my helmet.

It would be a huge pro to not have to ride in the rain or the cold for that matter, the wind chill on my scooter when the temperatures go down in the winter is no joke, I get fucking cold.

Pro.

I could go over the bridges, I can’t go over any of the bridges on my scooter.

I could go to Sausalito, Stinson Beach, Muir Woods, Mt. Tam, the East Bay.

I could take road trips.

Man.

I love a good road trip.

I mean.

Bring that shit on.

Pro.

More independence, be able to carry more groceries home from the store, and music.

Music is definitely a pro, I can’t listen to music on my scooter.

Oh.

I suppose I could.

If I wanted to die.

Pro.

I could carry home my own Christmas tree instead of taking a taxi or shouldering it back to my house.

Pro.

I would feel safer getting into a car at night.

The neighborhood my internship is in is a bit sketchy, 18th and Treat, it’s pretty active during the day, lots of businesses and action going on, but at night, it gets a bit torrid.

I’ve had two times when I felt a bit exposed getting on my scooter, once where I was approached.

A car would feel more secure.

Pro.

Adulting.

It’s an adult thing, having a car, I sort of like the idea of it, I like the idea of driving, it’s been a long time.

Fifteen years, in fact, since I owned a car, maybe it’s time for a change.

And yes.

Change, even good change, is scary, so I might have to juggle all this stuff in my brain for a bit, but I know this much, I didn’t like hearing how my person wrapped up the “I might want to lease a car conversation” I had with him this afternoon.

“Well, doll, it’s only a matter of time,” he said and paused, meaning, I’m going to be hit on my scooter.  “I rather like the idea of you being in a car, you’re doing more and more and you’re on your scooter so much, really, it is only a matter of time.”

Um.

NO.

Knock on some motherfucking wood.

Felt like a black cat walked over my grave when he said that.

I shivered.

Ok.

Ok.

It’s time.

Not to get hit, thank you very much.

But.

Yeah.

I think.

It might just be time.

To yes.

Get a car.

The pros outweigh the cons.

I can’t even believe I’m writing this.

But yeah.

I think I want a car.

Who knew!?

The Not A Date

May 29, 2017

Date.

I mean.

Fuck.

I thought it was a date.

But.

In the end it just seemed to be hanging out as friends.

Note to self.

Clarify.

44 fucking years old and still learning how to communicate.

Ah well.

I had a nice time going to the Summer of Love exhibit and my friend was a good friend, just not the experience I thought I was having.

I didn’t have expectations about it, in fact, when he’d asked me out I was surprised, but I had said yes, trying to keep my word, promising that I would date, I would try.

I am tired of trying.

I am tired of dating.

I don’t want to do it.

And yet.

Here I am trying.

Frustrated pacing the walls of my head, the walls of my room, and just trying each moment to be as honest and upfront as I can.

I can’t have what I want.

I get what I need.

Isn’t that the trope?

Learning, always this learning, this experiencing and I’m not mad or curious or, what resigned, resigned isn’t the right word either.

Acceptance tastes like it.

Humility, most likely that, a tasty snack, a tidbit of humility, mmmm, here, wait, have another helping.

I made my friend feel bad, well, take that back, I’m not that powerful, I can’t claim to be responsible for anyone’s feelings, but I was surprised at the laissez-faire approach to us hanging out together, which clued me into it not being a date.

I expected to be picked up at noon.

I was picked up at 1:45p.m.

UGH.

I have a life, I have things to do, I am important, don’t you know who I am, I don’t want to go on this date.

Oh.

Hahahahhaahahahahahaha.

Joke’s on you lady.

It’s not a date.

My brain.

Oh how it likes to tell me some stories.

I have another “date” tomorrow, but let me tell you, I bet it’s just to have coffee and go do the deal.

It’s not a date either.

Clarity.

I have to ask for clarity.

I have to know that I am beautiful and worthy, that my time is valuable, that I am worth making the attempt for.

I fucking deserve to be courted.

I mean.

That’s what I believe, but maybe that’s a fallacy too, an expectation that I am to be pursued in a certain way by a certain type of man, it just doesn’t seem, after many years of trying to figure this out, ahhaha, ugh, I have not done it any favors, my romantic state or lack there of.

I am still just bumble fucking along.

I get to change.

That’s the only thing I can do.

I can change.

Or not.

I mean.

What is wrong with my life?

Do I need to be in a romantic relationship?

Throat strangles with sadness writing last line, note to self, write about that tomorrow morning.

Fuck.

I wrote a lot this morning.

Eight pages?

Yes.

Eight.

Just wrote and wrote and wrote.

Had a nice breakfast, drank some good coffee, wrote, and waited for the date not date to show up.

And the thing that happened is that I got work done that I needed to do.

So.

A gift, the tardiness of another, my powerlessness over others and their actions held true.

What can I do, how can I use my time and not be mad, not be pissed at my friend who was just taking care of stuff that he had to do.

I set up my voicemail for my internship.

I activated my e-mail account.

I set up my phone line.

I read through the employee hand book.

I discovered I have to also pay to get liability insurance, another unknown out-of-pocket school cost, which makes sense, but was a cost I wasn’t expecting.

Anyway.

I’ll be getting a little bit of money back from the financial aid I applied for, most of it goes to paying for my practicum supervisor, but I’ll get a smidgen that will help with my out-of-pocket therapy costs and this insurance and whatever else comes up.

I still have secrets thoughts and desires about getting out-of-town sometime during the three weeks my family I nanny for will be traveling.

I have a $480 ticket voucher and if I hold steady with my expenditures I might be able to pull off a short vacation, four or five days, somewhere the airlines fly.

I had been thinking San Juan Puerto Rico as a friend does a lot of business there, but I’m not sure I can make Puerto Rico work, maybe.

I don’t know.

I do know I have to use the voucher by October.

I also don’t know when I will get the opportunity outside the three weeks in July.

I guess that’s what bothered me the most.

Having set time aside to go on a date, ok, not a date, I wanted it to go my way, on my schedule, so that I could do all the other things I was going to do, like I totally fucking skipped yoga to get ready.

Note to self.

Don’t do that.

Gratefully.

Tomorrow is a holiday and I’m not working and I will go to yoga in the morning and then to lunch with my person and dump my stupid emotional juju ass baggage about dating and being stupid and annoyed with myself and get it off my chest and then go on another date not date for coffee and laugh at myself.

LOUDLY.

Because I am funny and my little plans and designs get nowhere.

Show up, be of service, stop thinking about myself.

And life will be just fine.

It already is.

I have fucking luxury problems.

Dating is a total luxury problem, I am alive, sober, housed, clothed, fed.

In other words, totally fucking taken care of.

So what?

I have problems in areas I used to never have.

I am lucky.

I am graced.

I am happy, motherfucking free, and joyous.

Most of the time.

And when I am sad or in self-pity or whatever it is, I’m more important than you and your agenda and needs, I see that I am not in humility and gratitude and I can change.

I can awaken.

I can say.

How may I serve, how may I help.

And take the motherfucking focus off myself.

That usually does the trick.

So me and my luxury problems are going to have a nice fucking day tomorrow going to yoga, getting to go to lunch with one of my most loved humans in the entire world, coffee with a friend, a gathering of fellows, some get right with God, and that’s my day.

Or not.

I can’t make plans to save my life.

Who knows what tomorrow will bring.

I certainly don’t.

Obviously.

 

Is It A Little

September 14, 2016

Dusty in here?

Just a mite.

But not too bad.

I got all my Burning Man gear sorted, finally.

I still find it rather amusing that I was back almost a week before my stuff landed back in San Francisco and then it took another week for me to source a vehicle.

It happened last night though.

I got done with work and my friend picked me up from work and we headed over a few blocks to 19th and Valencia.

My friend gave me heaps of shit about the dust and my badge of pride.

I don’t know about that, but it’s amusing.

I always know my friends by the amount of shit I’m willing to take from them.

Some people.

I have absolutely no tolerance for, you want to give me shit, I might beat you.

Just kidding.

Sort of.

My friend gave me a lot of shit over the last day about my gear and that allowed me to gauge our burgeoning friendship pretty well.

He’s a good egg.

Nice to have more friends.

I wasn’t expecting to have this coalesce and it’s been a little bit of whirlwind here at Casa Carmen.

Hmmm.

That looks right, but you know, not quite.

Maison Carmen.

AH.

Yes.

Better that.

Anyway.

I ended hanging out a lot with this person the last few days.

Totally unexpected.

I had a date Sunday who cancelled in the weirdest way yet.

He, the guy who cancelled on me, texted that he’d had a date the night before and they hit it off so well that he wasn’t interested in going on a date with me.

The message I got was that he was super happy (don’t recall asking, but great) and that things had radically changed (I should have known when our date was rescheduled–he’d originally made it for Saturday) and the new set of circumstances being that he wasn’t available to date.

But.

Hey, if you want to hang out as friends we can still meet up.

Um.

No.

Not even going to waste my time doing that.

I don’t need to cultivate more male friends, I need to cultivate the female friends I already have.

Of course, I already mentioned my other male friend, who is a new friend.

Um.

Ha.

Friend with benefits.

Ahem.

Heh.

But.

I, ah, get a head of myself.

The other title to this blog, fyi, was going to be “Hickies at the 7-11 in Sausalito,” but well, it didn’t quite have the same ring to it.

Anyway.

When Sunday’s date cancelled I decided that I would take my own damn self on a date.

I eye-balled the Mike Doughty poster my friends had gotten for me for getting the tickets to the show, the poster Mike signed for me, yes, and decided I would hie over to Cheap Pete’s and get it framed and then in the spirit of more art, go to the MOMA.

I did my Morning Pages, cleaned around the house a little and hopped on my scooter.

Oh.

Small scooter update.

Total wash on the cost of getting the repairs.

Yes.

It does turn out I have a deductible for collision, but it’s $500 and the cost to repair my scooter was $246, so no go.

All out-of-pocket.

Thanks hit and run, hope that karma bites you in the ass.

My insurance agent suggested though that I could probably right it off when I do my taxes this year.

I had no clue.

He told me the deal and I said thanks and got on with my day.

End of aside.

So I hit Cheap Pete’s dropped off the poster–I’m framing it in white with a black mat, it’s going to look hot.

Then I headed down town to the MOMA.

As I approached the museum, I realized that I was going to go right by the Nordie’s Rack on Market street and I had a twenty-dollar gift certificate that was going to expire if I didn’t use it.

I turned right on Mission street and hit the motorcycle parking by the old Mint.

Then a little shopping.

I got a call from a number I didn’t recognize.

I’m still not sure why I answered.

But I did.

New friend on the phone, and we’ve had some social media contact prior, so it wasn’t weird that he had my number, also we have a lot of friends in common, a lot.

He needed a favor and was calling for some help.

I explained that I wasn’t in the position to lend a hand, I was downtown shopping, and I’m not sure how it fell out my mouth, but that I had basically gotten stood up on a date so I was heading to the MOMA.

He thanked me, asked if I might change my mind and I said I might check back in later, depending on how my afternoon went.

I hung up and got to the shopping.

I was in the changing room when I got a series of texts.

Hmm.

Yes.

Actually.

Ok.

The gist being this gentleman wanted to know if he could be my stand in date since I had gotten stood up.

I was flattered and thought for a minute, then a light bulb went off in my head.

He’s pursuing!

Aha.

This has been a thing I have been writing about, being pursued rather than being the person that chases–I tend to chase guys who aren’t interested.

So.

I said yes.

We made plans to meet up at my house.

He picked me up looking dapper as fuck.

He’s a handsome guy.

In a suit, thank you very much.

And we headed out over the bridge to Sausalito.

Dinner at a little Italian restaurant.

Then.

Parking his vehicle over by Fort Baker, we changed up into riding gear and went for a motorcycle ride.

To the 7-11.

It was with some chagrin that he realized that I don’t eat sugar.

He was taking me to get a Slurpee.

Ok.

Now I don’t know about you, but it struck me as so adorable I almost couldn’t stand it.

Fast forward two days and being back at that same 7-11 at 11:30 p.m. at night getting snacks and water and giggling like I’m a sixteen year old.

Because.

Fuck me.

I have had a fucking blast over the last 48 hours and there’s something so 80’s movie perfect about being in a 7-11 with a paramour getting silly shit from the aisles and making out at the cash register.

I am not kidding.

I’m 43 but I was definitely channeling some teenager glee.

And today.

Well.

Back to reality.

I won’t say that I won’t be hanging out in the 7-11 again I probably will but the adult world is calling to both of us and we agreed at the beginning that whatever happened it was going to be light and fun.

It may have gone a bit deeper than that, I’m pretty sure it did, but it circumstances being what they are, he’s not really available.

So.

I get to be super grateful that I let myself be pursued and for 48 hours I had a goofy, sweet, silly, sexy, fun, amazing time with a new person who surprised me in more ways than one.

Here’s to new experiences.

And being hella grateful that my date on Sunday cancelled.

I hear “rejection is God’s protection.”

It wasn’t meant to be, that date, but it was the impetus for the two dates that followed with this new paramour.

Thanks God.

Let me be sure to remember this experience the next time a date cancels.

Seriously.

Super Bummed

September 7, 2016

Like really bummed.

But.

Not hurt.

Although I am anticipating my legs and knees are going to be sore tomorrow.

Sigh.

My scooter got smacked down today.

I left work this evening eager to hop on it and scoot out of the neighborhood and go catch up with some fellows in a church basement.

But.

‘Twas not to be.

I noticed something was off with it right away.

It was canted funny, like it wasn’t sitting on its’ kickstand right.

Then.

I realized the right mirror was busted.

Oh fuck.

I tried to right it, but it was tilted at an off angle and the tire was locked, I had my kryptonite wheel lock attached to it.

I slipped off the wheel lock and rocked it forward.

It was definitely not right.

I tried to start it.

Oh fuck.

The left hand brake was broken.

So.

Some one ran into it, tipped it over, banged it pretty hard and then picked it up and drove off.

No note.

Thanks buster.

I suspect you will get your comeuppance.

I don’t have to hate on you, you know what you did.

I was pretty upset.

Mostly because I just wanted to get out of Dodge.

I went back to my job, hoping that maybe they had caught something on camera, but the scooter was parked just a little too far back for their cameras to have caught anything.

I called the SF Police non-emergency number and was told I had to come down to the station and make a report.

Ugh.

So, a bit teary, tired, and frustrated, I trotted over to the Mission police station.

Thankful, really, that I work only three blocks away from the station.

It could have been a lot worse.

Plus.

I can leave my scooter where it is for the next couple of days while I figure out what to do next–my childcare parking permit will let me stay parked for up to 72 hours in the same spot.

I suspect I will be making a call to Scooter Centre in the morning.

I have a two year service warranty, not that it will necessarily cover this, but I believe it includes road side assistance, I should be able to get it towed to the shop in the morning without having to shell out money.

I got the accident report filled out so I can file with my insurance.

It’s all just a big pain in the ass, really.

I wasn’t on my scooter, I didn’t get hurt, it’s not smashed to smithereens, I have insurance.

It comes down to inconvenience and well, hey, I got a bike, I can ride it to work tomorrow and deal with it.

I will skip the yoga class I was going to do before work tomorrow and just get right on getting things straightened out.

Ultimately, I got over being upset pretty quick.

I am super grateful that I wasn’t hit, that I am ok, that my body doesn’t have a scratch.

Just a wet mark from a few tears sliding down my face.

Mostly out of frustration, but even in the frustration I could see that I was going to be alright, it’s just a thing, I didn’t lose anything, maybe a little bit of time that I would have preferred to have spent on other things.

I am also laughing, a little, I just fucking had it serviced!

Literally, on Friday, while I was in school, I dropped $300 to make sure it was all up and running and doing good.

Le sigh.

And moving on.

I got to yoga this morning.

Wowzers.

It’s been a minute.

I was not as bad off as I was afraid and the teacher was a new instructor I have not had before, she had us do a lot of stuff, but I didn’t feel like I was ever going to die in the class, like I have before when I have had different instructors and I am not used to their teaching style.

In fact, she was the best possible re-entry to my practice.

It was a small class, Labor Day weekend, Burning Man, I suspect many folks still are getting de-dusted, and it was nice to ease back in gently.

I came home after class, drank a gang of water, took a hot shower, ate some nice breakfast, drank some fresh brewed coffee, wrote three pages long hand and had enough time left over that I ran my numbers for August and did my September spending plan.

I’m ok on the money.

This is what I’m telling myself.

I don’t know exactly how insurance stuff works, but I suspect that I will be paying out of pocket to get my scooter repaired and then getting reimbursed through my insurance company.

Grateful I know that I have the funds to deal with it.

I also will get a small amount of money after my student loans are disbursed to pay my tuition this month.

So.

Yeah.

A bit of a hassle, some time suck, but overall, no big shakes.

Luxury problems, yo.

I’m so much calmer now that I’m home and have some hot tea going into my body.

I was also thinking when I was getting a ride home from the Lyft car I pinged, how lucky am I?

I have a phone, I hit a button, called a car, got a ride home.

I live in San Francisco.

I have an awesome bicycle in the garage and no shortage of ways to get back to work.

I repeated, to myself, I am ok.

I was not hurt.

I was no where near it when it was hit.

I am safe.

There really is nothing wrong.

It’s a nice mental place to be in.

Sure.

I’m not looking forward to dealing with it tomorrow, but I don’t have to be at work until 1p.m.

I have the time to spare to deal with it.

And deal with it I shall.

There was a reason it happened and I don’t have to know why, I don’t even have to be upset that the person who hit it didn’t leave a note, that’s on them, and I bet it sticks with them.

My conscience is clear and I won’t have a problem dropping off tonight.

And I suspect, more will be revealed.

Maybe I was supposed to be slowed down this week.

Who knows.

I’m safe.

That’s all that’s important.

That and making another cup of tea.

And watching Mr. Robot.

The rest of it can all wait for the morning.

Night y’all.

 

My Toes Are Hot

November 6, 2015

I was about to text my friend this message last night as I rolled around underneath the covers on my bed.

I had a fever yesterday.

I am rarely sick.

But I got smacked with it yesterday afternoon.

I had chalked it up to being up really early for work and not getting a lot of sleep the night before.

However.

By the time I was sitting in a cafe after work doing some writing before my next set of commitments, I knew something was wrong.

I felt flush.

Hot.

Light headed.

And.

I knew that I was sick.

Not so much because I am great at diagnosing myself.

I certainly am not.

But.

Because the boys I nanny for all week have had low-grade fevers and coughs.

I have no cough.

Thank God.

Nor the constant runny, drippy nose the boys had.

But I certainly was feverish.

I couldn’t also fathom how the hell I was going to get through the next two and a half hours before I had to be where I was going to next.

I couldn’t imagine hanging in there that long.

That is my clue that I am sick.

I have a big, imaginative, fully functioning brain.

I can keep a lot of stuff juggling about in my head and I am great at living in the future.

My thoughts proceed me.

Yes, yes, they do.

But when I am sick I have trouble seeing past the next five minutes.

All I could imagine was going home and having a bowl of oatmeal for dinner.

That too, is a tip-off.

I couldn’t imagine riding my bike home either, even though it’s a bike ride I do frequently.

I called a friend and asked for help.

Revolution is upon the land!

I asked for help.

Unusual for me.

But I knew I needed it.

My friend picked me up, tossed my bike in the back of his truck, gave me a hesitant hug and said, “you look yellow.”

Thanks man.

Now I feel really sexy.

Hot and yellow.

Blech.

He felt my forehead, “you have a fever.”

Yup.

I do.

I did.

He got me home and helped me get my bike in and said get into bed, sleep, don’t blog, rest.

I did just about that.

I made a bowl of oatmeal, my form of comfort food, and crawled under a comforter on my bed.

I watched a video for a minute.

I struggled with myself about sleeping.

And then just gave in as I was unable to focus on anything.

I curled up under the throw blanket on my bed wearing tights, long socks, and a flannel shirt.

That should be clue number 84 that I’m sick.

Way too much clothing.

I meandered in and out of sleep.

Having fever dreams about Paris and what I was going to do and where I was going to go and I drifted off.

I drifted back in when my housemate’s daughter came home and was singing in her room.

Then back out.

My friend texted me to see how I was and sad, “go to sleep.”

I did that.

The fever broke around midnight.

I got up did a few things.

I was wide awake.

I contemplated writing my blog, but knew the best thing was to get more rest.

I threw a load of laundry in the wash and puttered about then got back into bed.

I woke up this morning bright and alive and no fever.

Yay!

Especially yay since in about an hour I will be at the Scooter Centre down town to buy my new Buddy!

I confirmed the quote from my insurance agent this morning, coordinated with my friend who’s helping me out, and int a few minutes I will be leaving to hop on the train and take it down town to the shop.

I’ll be mobile shortly.

I am nervous.

I won’t say I’m not.

It’s been a minute since I have been on a scooter and the last few times it felt really harrowing as my former scooter was so unsafe, far more unsafe than I had any idea, but I also am grateful that I have had the time and space to prepare for this next adventure.

And.

The money.

It feels really good to know that I will be paying for the whole thing in cash, no financing, no monkeying around.

Straight up done deal.

I will own it outright and I won’t have to make payments.

The blessings of having a savings account and putting a little aside every paycheck.

It eventually adds up.

Sure.

I wanted the new scooter six, seven months ago when I took the knock off Vespa in to get repaired and had my heart-broken that I had been duped into buying a lemon.

But.

I didn’t like that I was going to have to finance it.

And when I got turned down for financing–I haven’t had or used a credit card in over ten years, so there was no history affiliated with me being a consumer despite my credit score being high, I was relieved.

I will save the money.

It will take a while.

That is ok.

Of course.

The $1,000 check for the poetry pushed me over the edge and now, a month sooner than I was predicting, I am getting my new ride.

Nervous.

Sure.

But excited.

Yes.

And soon.

I will be scooting around town again.

This time on a safe, new, fully warranted vehicle.

I am so pleased to be doing this like an adult.

Happy.

Joyous.

Free.

Vroom!

Vroom!

Self-Care Stress

March 16, 2015

Oh the things I write about.

Oh the things I don’t write about.

Or the things that I don’t talk about.

Or the ways in which I have to do the things that I suggest to ladies that I work with.

In the spirit of so doing I confessed a few things today that I have not been doing so well with.

All of it comes down to fear and a lack of belief, still, a core lack of belief that I am unworthy of caring for myself.

The thing is, after ten years of doing this work, I know when the gig is up for me and I know when I don’t want to tell someone something, in effect, tell on myself, then there’s something to be worried about.

I was asked this afternoon over a nice roast chicken lunch with vegetables at the Firewood Cafe, when the last time I had gone to the dentist was.

I balked.

I stumbled.

I made some waving motion with my fork.

“Awhile.”

That was the best I could come up with and I don’t even want to write this down, I’m already seeing your face, and yours, and oh yeah, yours too, when I say, I have not been to see a dentist since I lived at 23rd and Capp Street.

Which means that I haven’t been to the dentist in oh, um, gah, six or even seven years.

Is that possible?

Ugh.

The real thirteenth step.

Going to the dentist.

I have really good teeth and I am really lucky.

And there’s nothing wrong with them.

I brush them three times a day and floss once a day with dental tape.

I don’t smoke, although I probably do have some discoloration from coffee, my teeth are really in quite good shape.

But my knees.

Not so much.

That was also something I did not want to talk about.

My knees have been bothering me over the last few weeks.

Years.

Forever.

But I have definitely noticed a more marked discomfort and sometimes absolute screaming pain that makes me literal gasp and tear up, when I am walking.

And once in a while when I am riding my bicycle.

Fear is ruling the life.

I am afraid, in no particular order, of not being able to ride my bicycle any longer, needing to have knee surgery, not being able to work, losing my home, not being taken care of, not being able to ride my bicycle.

I know I listed that twice, but that is a big fear.

So, like any good crazy person, instead of addressing the issue, I have been trying to skirt it.

Not wearing shoes that I now exacerbate the issue more than once a week.

AKA.

My Converse.

Which, grr, I don’t want to admit either, like I’m fucking super woman or something, hurt my left ankle when I wear them too much anyhow.

Like right now.

My ankle is sore.

I wore Converse yesterday and today.

And despite not riding my bicycle yesterday and taking MUNI, I could feel both my knees and my ankle hurting a bit by the end of my walk, a short walk, a dwadling walk, from the North Berkeley BART to the baby shower, about eleven minutes, and I was tender.

Same today.

But today I did ride my bike, to the Castro and back.

Sometimes I know that my legs, mostly my quads and occasionally my calves (they cramp at night, no fun) need rest from the constant riding.

Today, though, it was my ankle and I told on myself.

It took a minute.

But I did.

“Girl, are you trying to become your mother?” My person asked.

Oh sweet Jesus.

I am.

Damn it.

Let us not to bond over my accomplishments, but over my lack of self-care to my body.

Why?

Because that was how I was fucking trained, ignore it until you are in the emergency room in scathing pain.

Then, if it doesn’t interfere with work, then go to the doctor.

I looked him in his very blue, very compassionate eyes, and said, “no, I don’t want to become my mother, and I knew I didn’t want to tell you because then I knew I would have to do something about it.”

“What are you afraid of?” He asked, folding his hands and putting down the salad fork, giving me full attention.

“Oh geeze, where to start?  Um, that I won’t have enough money to cover what ever is wrong with me, that I will need surgery, that I will lose my job, that if I chose to go to the doctor I’m going to eat into my vacation time, thereby losing money, thereby, um, not being able to pay my rent, not be able to go to Burning Man, not be able to afford going to Atlanta, being homeless and destitute.”

I had no idea.

I mean.

I did.

But still.

“I suggest you make an appointment with your doctor, just a regular appointment, and tell her what you what you are experiencing, and not make decisions based on information that is not true.” He said, “capisce?”

“Yes.” I sighed, though, in relief.

I really have been wanting to deal with this, it does scare me, but I also know that running away from the problem, hobbling at this point, I can’t imagine running, that I will only make the problem worse.

There is probably a very simple solution.

Or not.

But I won’t know until I go.

I also have to ask about a patch on my face that I suspect might be skin cancer or pre-cancerous.

There, I let that cat out of the bag too.

I have a reddish patch of dry skin on my right cheek that won’t heal.

It will get dry, peel and leave red skin and I think it’s going away, then it does the cycle over again.

I over heard someone say to another person, “oh you should get that checked out, it could be pre-cancerous.”

Ugh.

I looked at myself in the mirror and wondered.

This patch of dry, reddish skin has not heeled in how long?

Too long.

I, more admissions, noticed it over a year ago.

I know!

I know.

REALLY.

I do.

I just didn’t really think anything of it until I overheard that conversation last week.

And yes.

I am doing plenty about it.

I googled dental student cleanings and I will sign up for that as soon as I see my regular doctor.

I made an appointment to go in and see her next Friday at Kaiser on Geary.

I’m doing the deal.

Even when I have to drag myself to do it, even when I don’t want to admit that I need help, even when I am in fear.

False.

Evidence.

Appearing.

Real.

I took some actions and I’ll be seeing the doctor next week.

Sigh.

Self-care you nagging whore.

I mean.

Self-care, you wonderful woman, look at how you are learning how to take care of the beautiful body that God has given you to walk around in.

At least, hopefully, for a while yet to come.

 

You Sound Exhausted

October 4, 2014

Well.

That sounds about right.

Although, of course, now that I am at home and the door is open to the ocean air and the night is young, well, you know, I’ve got a second wind.

However.

When I chatted with my friend earlier I had just pushed a heavy stroller to Juri Commons in the heat of the afternoon and was pretty beat just from that, let alone the week, which did in spots kick my ass.

Today was a great deal better for me though.

The mom and I conferred more and we are on the same page with what I do and am doing and they are super happy and I am happy and I also don’t have to be a crazy perfectionist and make things always just so.

I can let some things slide.

Not the boys safety or well-being, of course, but if I don’t fold the laundry until tomorrow, that’s going to be ok.

They are thrilled and I am thrilled.

Although I wasn’t much thrilled when I received my electronic notice about my direct deposit.

Holy shit.

They took a lot out for taxes.

Then again, I claimed zero, knowing that I wanted them to take the most out.  I always look at it as a forced savings account–claim zero dependents they take the biggest chunk, then there’s usually a little I get back at tax time.

It’s a chunk, but I am happy to be above-board, completely legit, not sneaking anything by anyone.  It feels right and I didn’t really feel or have any drama when I saw my paycheck.

On one hand I am making less than when I was working my three previous nanny gigs (they didn’t take out taxes), on the other, I am making more.

Plus I get a health insurance stipend and a lot of paid days off.

I have paid vacation galore.

I got the holiday calendar today for the days I will get paid off in the next year, holidays that the dad gets with his job, and they total, not the standard 5 I am used to, but.

Wait for it.

Fourteen.

Fourteen paid holidays.

I was blown away.

For instance I get Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and the day after Christmas as paid days off–normally I have just gotten Christmas day off, or just Thanksgiving, I get the day after Thanksgiving off as well.

Woohoo.

I am thrilled.

This is on top of the two weeks paid vacation I get as part of my package.

And when I was checking in with the mom today about the insurance she said we’re going to cut you a check for this month and for last month too.

What?

I wasn’t even fully employed with them last month.

But they are going to give me a back month of health insurance.

Right the fuck on.

I feel super appreciated and I really like them.

It’s a good fit and I feel that I can grow with the family as they grow too.

I feel like I can have this job for a while, that it will be a great segue into graduate school; especially since I want to be working, but can’t work full-time when I am in school.

The little guy today had a great nap and I was able to get all the household stuff taken care of far ahead of schedule.

So I sat down after my lunch and I did my spending plan for October having tallied up my September expenditures, and I saw clearly that though the income is slightly less, it is enough.

And it’s stable.

I wasn’t sure week to week last year if I was going to have full-time work and often times I would have to pick up weekend shifts or part-time gigs here and there to cover my costs.

The income is stable.

I know exactly how much I can count on.

And with the health insurance stipend and the cash that I will get paid if I work over 40 hours, which I did this week, I am quite nicely taken care of.

My out going expenses are pretty small.

Student loans.

Scooter payment.

Which I only have two more months and it’s mine free and clear.

Although what I am going to do with it is still up in the air.  I want to sell it but nothing has coalesced yet.  I am certain once I have the financials all clear I will want to move forward rapidly to find another ride.

The bicycling is great, but when the days get shorter and colder and the nights long, I am not going to be wanting to be doing the commute.  Two weeks of bicycling and I can tell I am going to want a better commuting solution.

It will happen.

Just because I can’t see it right in front of me doesn’t meant that there isn’t a solution to my scooter dilemma.

This is not a problem either.

It’s just another opportunity to grow and have another experience.

Granted I would rather it be easier than it has been, but the solution will find me if I keep putting it out there.  I want a scooter I can ride and I know that it’s in my cards to find that.

And it’s the weekend.

Like that.

I made it.

I have little to do, a commitment tomorrow in Noe Valley, a speaking engagement in the Mission on Sunday, a tea date and check in with a lady tomorrow, grocery shopping, cooking, sleeping in.

Small, simple, honest things.

I’ll read.

I’ll meditate.

I will take the next action around graduate school–Saturday’s will be my go to-day to do work on graduate school admissions.

I will sit in the sun.

I will get a manicure and a pedicure and have someone wax my eyebrows and I will drink an iced coffee or three in my wanders.

I will take at least one day off from riding my bicycle so that my legs can rest.

I will relax and take it easy.

My life is pretty damn awesome.

Even when I am tired.

It’s rocking the hell out.

Oh Yeah

March 2, 2014

I am supposed to be writing a blog post.

Get to it lady.

Pretty mellow day today, did all my get around on MUNI.  I was so engrossed in a book that I did not realize until I had gotten off at the stop at 24th and Castro that the person I was going to meet was still on the bus with me.

I am currently reading the amazing A.M. Homes, “May We Be Forgiven.”

She is awesome, reminds me of a female Don DeLillo.

I was just buried in the book.

I have been, when ever I could get to it, over the last few days.

I was not going to take the bike out today, off and on rain, and I needed to be in the Cow Hollow neighborhood and then back over the hills (and through woods, er, the Western Addition) to Noe Valley.

Not really bicycling areas of enjoyment on a one speed.

I took the train, N-Judah, the 43 bus, the 22 bus, and the 24 bus.

I am MUNI’d out.

Which was why it was awesome to come home, got a lift home thank God from Noe Valley, and see something in the mail box that was not a utility bill.

My paperwork from the Motorcycle Training course showing my successful completion of said course.

Yay!

Bring on the scooter.

I had stopped by the DMV on Fell St. on Thursday and I grabbed the California Motorcycle Handbook–it is just slightly different from the one the course uses–and I was going to see what the line was like, but when I did, I said, uh, no, no thank you and I left.

Now that I have all the materials it is time to make that appointment and take the written test.  Plus I received a quote from the insurance person who I was referred to and I can totally afford it.

Not like I can’t not afford it, I won’t be able to get the motorcycle licence without proof of insurance anyhow, from what I understand, I suppose I should look that up.

I would want the insurance anyway, regardless of whether or not I need it.

It doesn’t hurt me to think that it is required though.

I am just steps from grabbing that scooter and taking her for a spin.

It still feels a little surreal.

After all these years of riding a bicycle in San Francisco, to suddenly be on a motorized vehicle, it’s going to be something else.

I won’t mind it though, the wait time for MUNI on the weekends is just stupid.

And there’s a lot I like to do on a weekend and a lot of places I like to get out and about to.  I am ready to not be riding my bike there and back at night.

I feel like that’s a huge thing, riding at night on the weekends is just not what I like, the scooter will be perfect for that.

It’s still just a little bit out.

I am setting the intention of having it within the next two weeks.

That’s the plan anyhow.

Tomorrow is going to be chill and depending on the weather I may MUNI it up for one more day.  I have a commitment at 6:30p.m. but the rest of the day is chill.

Nothing planned.

I do have a girl friend coming into town and hopefully we will be hooking up for some tea and conversation.

Other than that, it’s making soup time.

I did not get to do that last week taking the safety course really threw that plan out the window.  I am ready to have my own home made food at work again.

I got caught with my pants down one day at work when I realized my fridge was empty and I needed to go shopping, no problem, the nanny gig was in Cole Valley, loads of stores, Whole Food, Cole Valley Market, but it was the day that it down poured.

I was not leaving the house.

I had oatmeal for lunch and raw carrot sticks.

Not the worst thing ever, but not my best plan.

So tomorrow I really will be making some soup at the house, do a little laundry, maybe take a stroll down on the beach, and definitely read some more of the book.

I don’t think it will make it through the week even.

Sometimes I can eke out a book for a while, but this week I have a solo nanny gig in the Castro on Monday and Tuesday instead of my typical Cole Valley share, then back to Cole Valley, then over to the NOPA, then back to the Castro.

Woof.

No wonder I want a scooter.

I am in great shape though, I noticed that today, hey girl, you’re looking a little skinnier.

That was one thing I shared recently, my one fear with getting the scooter is the loss of bicycle exercise I get with the commute.

Then I thought, ha, I’ll have a scooter, I can go swimming, I can go to the gym, I can go to yoga, hmmm, I could walk to yoga too, I still have yet to take that free class I was offered through Ocean Beach yoga.

Leads me to think that yoga there may not be my bag, but it’s there, and I do have a class coming.

This has got to be the most rambling ass blog ever.

I just wanted to add I came up with my back piece tattoo as well–I ran into Barnaby and it just popped right out of my mouth.

I want an Eiffel Tower.

I know.

Right.

How crazy am I?

But the Paris experience really continues to shape me in ways and despite not wanting to live there, at this point in my life, I was really influenced by it.

I want an Eiffel Tower in the old Art Deco mode with the words: “il etait une fois”.

Once upon a time.

It means something to me being a professional nanny and it also speaks to my own story.

Once upon a time there was a girl who rode a one speed all over, even around the base of the Eiffel Tower.

Here are her adventures, and misadventures, thereof.

I bet it would make a great story.

Or.

Even.

A decent blog.

Ha.


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