How much do I owe?

Did you ever try to pay a bill and the powers that be won't let you? This is getting to be a rather funny experience in my life.

To make things clear I have Medicare plus a supplement. Between them It usually takes care of all my medical bills except prescriptions. I know at the beginning of each year I need to pay the Medicare deduction, which I have not done yet this year.

I have been to my primary facility a couple of times since January but was told they do not pay a deductible. Okay I get that, but don't I owe something on the bill like $30 per visit. I was told the supplement paid that. I found that odd since they aren't supposed to pay anything toward the bill until the deductible has been met. Strange, they did pay the $30 per visit and I owe nothing.

Last week I had a podiatrist appointment and again said I haven't paid the Medicare deductible yet. Their answer was, "We don't do the billing. You owe nothing today." This morning I called their billing office and was told I owe 0. They have to send the bill, whatever that is, to Medicare and wait for it to be rejected. Seriously! I just want to find out what I owe.

I have an appointment with my Dermatologist next week and no doubt will be going through the same thing! I know I owe $185 to someone, if I could find out who that is! I have never had so much trouble paying a bill before.

The color orange

For the last three days I have been trying to remember the name of the chicken that I used to serve with stir fry. All I could come up with was barbecue chicken. No that's not it!

This morning I stopped by Walmart to pick up a package of egg rolls. While looking for them I also saw a package of orange chicken. Yes!!

I started laughing when I remembered that last night I watched part of the documentary on Trump, the orange president. I thought to myself, wow my guide, Richard, had really tried to jog my memory!

So tonight we are having, stir fry, rice, egg rolls and orange chicken! Yum!

Don't shoot the messenger

I have not had a really good time, health wise, for the last couple of days. My blood pressure has been acting up and I don't know exactly why. It could be stress due to all the money I have had to dole out lately, trying to upgrade my house and take care of unexpected bills. Anyway I made a doctor's appointment yesterday. I am seeing a new primary care person and I really like him. My former PA left town.

Along with my blood pressure problem, which I hope will be taken care with a slight adjustment to my BP medication, we also talked about the problem I have been having with neuropathy in my feet. We thought it could be caused by the fact that I have been diagnosed with spinal stenosis because it can cause leg and foot problems. When Daniel looked at my records he said, "you have pre diabetas". I replied, "no one had ever told me that". I would think my former PA would have found that important enough to mention.That really makes me angry!

Since I don't drink pop or sweetened drinks or eat a lot of candy I assume the culprit is cookies and or pastries. If I had known I no doubt could have saved myself a whole lot of undesirable pain. Thank God the stupid PA has moved on and left room for someone who actually knows what he is doing. 

Grandparents

I don’t know much about my paternal grandfather. He was born in Sweden and immigrated to the United States in 1888. He ended up in Carnation (Tolt) Washington, the home of the contented cows. He became a farmer and died the year I was born. My paternal grandmother was born in Nebraska and had two brothers. Her mother died when she was twelve years old. She also ended up in Washington. Some of her ancestors lived in Nova Scotia. My grandparents had four children. I didn’t spend a lot of time with my grandmother, but she always seemed old to me. I don’t believe I ever saw her wear anything except a black dress with a broach at the neck. It seems odd today that I never asked anyone why. Both of my paternal grandparents are buried in Carnation, WA. 

Then there was my maternal grandfather who was born in Missouri and had several siblings. I know nothing about him except that he and my grandmother were married in 1908 and he died in 1918 of influenza on an Army base in Washington State, leaving behind my mother who was seven years old at the time.

My maternal grandmother was born in Wisconsin. Her parents were both born in Belgium, along with most of her siblings. Her family also immigrated to the U.S. in 1888. After the death of her first husband, making her a Gold Star widow, she married again. Her new husband became the only grandfather I ever knew. They also settled in Washington State, following a brief stay in Ketchikan, Alaska. My younger brother and I spent many summers at their home. I remember my grandfather’s rose garden. He would bring my grandmother a fresh rose every morning they bloomed. I give them both credit for teaching me many of the positive values I follow today.

Memories

Odd isn't it how memories can come back just when we need them? As souls our memories far exceed what has happened in this lifetime. Sometimes we know what we know and we don't really know how we know it.

As Father's Day approaches I can't help but remember an event from a previous life, involving my then father and myself. I know who that person is in this life, but he either cannot or will not remember who he was. That fact causes me a great deal of pain and yes, sometimes anger.

The story of that relationship began when my mother died giving birth to me. My father was not able to deal with the pain of the death and he and I moved to a mountainous area, away from everything that reminded him of our previous life. I am not sure, but I have a strong feeling it could have been somewhere in Alaska. I have been told I have lived there during more than one lifetime.

As I grew older my father depended on me more and more to take care of household chores. As the result I grew up much sooner than I should have. I accepted responsibilities that should never have been mine. Today I can see that the trait is something I am still dealing with in this life.

Back to the story. One day we heard a terrible noise outside of our small cabin and as my father opened the door to investigate, he was consumed by an avalanche, roaring down the mountain. The last thing I remember is being face down on the cabin floor and praying as snow and ice buried me alive.

Happy Father's Day dad, perhaps someday you too will remember.

I'm done

The Writing Camp is over. Whew that went by fast! Even though I had a small group I hope the kids had fun. It was a challenge deciding what to include into a three hour camp. As the saying goes, where there is a will there is a way! This morning was the most fun. They put captions on funny animal pictures, wrote stories, giving something that doesn't speak human, a voice and did an exercise centered on bullying. Imagination was the key to today's session.

Even though it was a last minute decision I am happy I did the camp. Perhaps it inspired one of the participants to spend more time writing creatively.

If at first you don't succeed

Last year we removed all the carpet that had been sitting on the floors for years. It was time. With my son's help we covered the floors in the three bedrooms, kitchen and laundry room. The living room/dinning room carpet was replaced by someone who is supposed to be a professional.

After a little over a year that carpet was bunching up all over the place. The wife of the person who installed it insisted it was not their fault. She claimed it was because of furniture being drug over the carpet. The installer actually said the hallways were because that was where the two parts of the double wide mobile home go together. Basically he was claiming no responsibility for the mess! The furniture had not moved since the carpet was installed and as far as the house shifting, I have never heard of anything so ridicules! The house has been in this same spot since 1980.

I decided to find someone else to fix the problem. Last night that was accomplished. In addition to the carpet looking great now, a floor vent in the dinning room was eliminated. It had been causing a problem with the table placement for years. I can't even see where the carpet was patched. Even though I had to pay someone else to fix the problem I am very happy with the results and I will never again use Aaron Dean Carpets in Grants, NM for anything!

I have a question

If you are going to be a writer you have to learn to ask questions and keep asking until you get the answer you need. Tomorrow my Writing Camp participants are going to be writing about the Riverwalk Park in the center of our town. When I came up with the idea I wanted to find out exactly when the park was developed. I began asking that question. I wanted to give the kids a little background information, along with having them write about their personal experiences at the Riverwalk.

I first stopped by the Parks Department and was told they have nothing to do with the city. I then sent a message to the City Manager, asking my question. I received no reply from her.

I then talked to someone at the Grants Municipal Library. I was told they have few books about Grants and newspaper articles are only kept for a month.  Knowing the Cibola Beacon no longer exists, I sent a message to the current newspaper that took its place. Again, no answer.

Feeling frustrated, I called the Chamber of Commerce to ask my question. I was told they didn't have that information, but suggested I check with Mainstreet. When I did I was told they would find the answer and get back to me. It has been several weeks and I have not heard from them.

A couple days ago I had a local repairman at my house installing a new patio door. I asked him if he had lived here all his life. I then asked if he knew when the Riverwalk was built. He didn't, but he said he would ask his brother.

I finally got the answer to my question! The Riverwalk Park was built between 1989 and 1992. The amphitheater was added in 2005. I already knew that the big rocks were added by a man whose name was Wheeler. He would dig a hole, measure it and look for the exact boulder to fill the hole. The man had cancer and made it his life's mission.

As I said, if you want to be a writer you have to learn to ask questions.