There. Now if anybody puts some of those terms into a search engine, they might find me. I haven't been able to find anybody else who's having this problem.
As far as I've been able to ascertain, we haven't been cancelled yet this year. They've certainly made my life unpleasant, though.
Basic training in 2009, summer stints in 2010, 2011, and this year--every time, a few days after he starts (and it's been different times of the year), the nice people at the FSSA office cancel my children's Medicaid.
If someone wants to contact me regarding this, my email is deb8851@gmail.com. Or just leave a comment. And feel free to peruse the blog if you want to read about everything that's happened so far. Beware--I talk about lots of other things, too. :)
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Sunday, July 29, 2012
O.K., Now What ??? (surviving SHTF)
Somebody in an online group to which I belong recently brought up the topic of who's going to die first if there is a major catastrophe--what survivalists refer to as "SHTF" (s*** hits the fan).
Of course, really elderly, infirm people, and severely disabled people, and people who depend on electricity and/or medication (so many people don't have even a week's worth of their life-saving medications on hand) or life support, are probably going to be first. This is not pleasant, but denying reality won't help anybody. As an amateur survivalist, I personally try to keep a stockpile of prednisone and antibiotics on hand for myself, but if the lights went out and it got cold in the winter while I was sick, I could be in serious trouble. Certainly leaving my home during an episode of illness would be bad. Fortunately, where we live I'm quite likely to be able to 'shelter in place'--we're in an isolated area and I'm fairly stocked up, so I wouldn't have to venture out for supplies right away. Being disabled is not a factor in my favor..
This morning, after my family left for church, I saw yet another piece of one of those TV shows where people get a free home remodeling. (I haven't really changed the subject here lol) Someone was complaining bitterly about the type of flooring in their old shower, and how people would actually want to use the new shower. And the old one didn't look that bad!
I see this all the time. And then I look around my house. Our flooring is coming apart--and I'm just glad we don't have actual holes to walk around. Some people do. Our toilet doesn't flush right. But we have indoor plumbing. The other day one of my daughters asked why we have so many things on the walls. I like things on the walls. But the real reason is that there are holes in the decaying plaster in every room in this house. However, the house is at least structurally sound. I was glad when a storm a couple of years back blew down our chimney so we could get a new roof with insurance money--we were starting to get leaks everywhere.
When my husband joined the National Guard and we got the bonus, one thing we did was replace the bottom half of our kitchen. Now our counter top is not crumbling and all of the cupboards have doors. We would have done it sooner, but where would the money have come from?
Our furniture is old and crumbling. Our appliances are old and cheap. Our house hasn't been painted, we 'need' landscaping. Our cars often don't run perfectly. Or look pretty.
People sometimes think we need to take pride in our house. The reality is that we're just broke. All the time. For years and years now. I'm afraid to have people over, because of the judgmental attitude I've experienced several times now.
But I'm not saying this just to complain.
We buy generic, non-organic, not always healthy food, because it's cheaper. But I remember my mother telling stories of the Thanksgiving her family had one can of spam, and biscuits made with flour and water. She tells of outhouses, and having to walk a long way to a neighbor's house to carry water home. Of living in a house built over an open sewer. Of collecting bottles along streets for money, and wearing classmates' discarded clothes, and never getting a high school yearbook. I'm sure my mother's stories have had an impact on my attitude.
We have a lot to be grateful for. Honestly, we live in a magical time. I get up in the morning, and the interior of my house is climate-controlled. I flip a switch, and it's light. Presto! When our electricity went out a few weeks ago, one of the things I noticed was how much it sucks when you get up early in the morning and you can't do anything because you can't see. And then there's the running water--cold and even hot. Telephones and internet and automobiles connect me to people I might hardly ever see (or not even meet) otherwise. And I have access to all kinds of art, music, entertainment, and knowledge on every subject, right in my own home.
And then there's modern medicine. I (hopefully) won't get a small injury and die from infection. I almost certainly won't die from the bubonic plague, or polio, or smallpox. I have contact lenses so I can see. I'm forty-six and I still have all my teeth. I might live another forty years if I'm lucky. Life expectancy is a lot longer than what it used to be.
This is an incredible time to be alive.
I know an awful lot of people who have no idea how lucky they are. They're fussing over their interior decorating, lamenting that their kitchen cabinets are ten years old and need to be replaced because they're now out of style. I've heard people go on about how they've got a lesser-paying job and can't afford to buy new clothes now, what a tragedy. Except they already have fifty outfits.
Meanwhile, I'm waiting for the Wal-Mart card I usually get from my family for my birthday (in a little over a month) so I can buy a couple of things. Sometimes I've been down to one pair of pants, or one pair of shoes, or a couple of shirts. No winter coat at times. A purse with a broken strap.
People go on about their vacations, and the expensive restaurants they go to. And they seem to have no idea how fortunate they are. The actually complain about how little money they have, sitting there wearing their designer clothes and jewelry, hair styled professionally, manicured fingers and Vera Bradley purses.
These are going to be the first people to crack if/when the "SHTF". Because they will have no idea what to do when their manicurist and hair stylist close up shop. Seriously. And heaven help them if the lights go out. No cell phones. No internet. No television. No showers. Don't get me wrong--I'll miss those things and hope they come back real soon. But I could survive mentally, short-term certainly, but long-term if I have to. And that's the attitude that will carry the day for some people in a crisis.
Us poor people have learned valuable skills over the years. How not to take too much pride in our appearance (don't get me wrong here--I showered today and everything). Or our homes (yep, I've done chores, too). How to survive when the phone or internet or TV gets shut off (because we couldn't pay our bill). How to eat at home, with whatever we're lucky enough to have in the kitchen. How to tolerate physical discomfort. How to get along without medical care.
How to fix a strap on a purse and deal with the fact that we can't buy a new one right now.
Some of the wealthier people, especially if they've never been poor (or camped a lot, or something), will get up in the morning and make what might be the most important decision of their lives. "Well, look what's happened, now what am I going to do about this?" They'll develop at attitude of "What will I do today to take care of me and mine", and they'll use that mental attitude to cope.
But I think many people are going to have a nervous breakdown.
A lot of them haven't even admitted to themselves the possibility that society could ever have even a temporary breakdown. Maybe it's too terrifying to contemplate. Although when a minor disaster hits, I personally find myself a lot calmer with my bottles of water and cupboards of food and candles and wood stove and wood. It's like, 'Oh, OK, this is what I prepped for, now this is what I'm supposed to do'.
While some people are having their nervous breakdowns, they might not even have clean drinking water, or food, or heat, or light, or medication, because it never occurred to them that they could be thrown on their own resources, for even a few days.
They will be in shock to find themselves in a situation where it no longer matters what kind of flooring they have in their shower.
Of course, really elderly, infirm people, and severely disabled people, and people who depend on electricity and/or medication (so many people don't have even a week's worth of their life-saving medications on hand) or life support, are probably going to be first. This is not pleasant, but denying reality won't help anybody. As an amateur survivalist, I personally try to keep a stockpile of prednisone and antibiotics on hand for myself, but if the lights went out and it got cold in the winter while I was sick, I could be in serious trouble. Certainly leaving my home during an episode of illness would be bad. Fortunately, where we live I'm quite likely to be able to 'shelter in place'--we're in an isolated area and I'm fairly stocked up, so I wouldn't have to venture out for supplies right away. Being disabled is not a factor in my favor..
This morning, after my family left for church, I saw yet another piece of one of those TV shows where people get a free home remodeling. (I haven't really changed the subject here lol) Someone was complaining bitterly about the type of flooring in their old shower, and how people would actually want to use the new shower. And the old one didn't look that bad!
I see this all the time. And then I look around my house. Our flooring is coming apart--and I'm just glad we don't have actual holes to walk around. Some people do. Our toilet doesn't flush right. But we have indoor plumbing. The other day one of my daughters asked why we have so many things on the walls. I like things on the walls. But the real reason is that there are holes in the decaying plaster in every room in this house. However, the house is at least structurally sound. I was glad when a storm a couple of years back blew down our chimney so we could get a new roof with insurance money--we were starting to get leaks everywhere.
When my husband joined the National Guard and we got the bonus, one thing we did was replace the bottom half of our kitchen. Now our counter top is not crumbling and all of the cupboards have doors. We would have done it sooner, but where would the money have come from?
Our furniture is old and crumbling. Our appliances are old and cheap. Our house hasn't been painted, we 'need' landscaping. Our cars often don't run perfectly. Or look pretty.
People sometimes think we need to take pride in our house. The reality is that we're just broke. All the time. For years and years now. I'm afraid to have people over, because of the judgmental attitude I've experienced several times now.
But I'm not saying this just to complain.
We buy generic, non-organic, not always healthy food, because it's cheaper. But I remember my mother telling stories of the Thanksgiving her family had one can of spam, and biscuits made with flour and water. She tells of outhouses, and having to walk a long way to a neighbor's house to carry water home. Of living in a house built over an open sewer. Of collecting bottles along streets for money, and wearing classmates' discarded clothes, and never getting a high school yearbook. I'm sure my mother's stories have had an impact on my attitude.
We have a lot to be grateful for. Honestly, we live in a magical time. I get up in the morning, and the interior of my house is climate-controlled. I flip a switch, and it's light. Presto! When our electricity went out a few weeks ago, one of the things I noticed was how much it sucks when you get up early in the morning and you can't do anything because you can't see. And then there's the running water--cold and even hot. Telephones and internet and automobiles connect me to people I might hardly ever see (or not even meet) otherwise. And I have access to all kinds of art, music, entertainment, and knowledge on every subject, right in my own home.
And then there's modern medicine. I (hopefully) won't get a small injury and die from infection. I almost certainly won't die from the bubonic plague, or polio, or smallpox. I have contact lenses so I can see. I'm forty-six and I still have all my teeth. I might live another forty years if I'm lucky. Life expectancy is a lot longer than what it used to be.
This is an incredible time to be alive.
I know an awful lot of people who have no idea how lucky they are. They're fussing over their interior decorating, lamenting that their kitchen cabinets are ten years old and need to be replaced because they're now out of style. I've heard people go on about how they've got a lesser-paying job and can't afford to buy new clothes now, what a tragedy. Except they already have fifty outfits.
Meanwhile, I'm waiting for the Wal-Mart card I usually get from my family for my birthday (in a little over a month) so I can buy a couple of things. Sometimes I've been down to one pair of pants, or one pair of shoes, or a couple of shirts. No winter coat at times. A purse with a broken strap.
People go on about their vacations, and the expensive restaurants they go to. And they seem to have no idea how fortunate they are. The actually complain about how little money they have, sitting there wearing their designer clothes and jewelry, hair styled professionally, manicured fingers and Vera Bradley purses.
These are going to be the first people to crack if/when the "SHTF". Because they will have no idea what to do when their manicurist and hair stylist close up shop. Seriously. And heaven help them if the lights go out. No cell phones. No internet. No television. No showers. Don't get me wrong--I'll miss those things and hope they come back real soon. But I could survive mentally, short-term certainly, but long-term if I have to. And that's the attitude that will carry the day for some people in a crisis.
Us poor people have learned valuable skills over the years. How not to take too much pride in our appearance (don't get me wrong here--I showered today and everything). Or our homes (yep, I've done chores, too). How to survive when the phone or internet or TV gets shut off (because we couldn't pay our bill). How to eat at home, with whatever we're lucky enough to have in the kitchen. How to tolerate physical discomfort. How to get along without medical care.
How to fix a strap on a purse and deal with the fact that we can't buy a new one right now.
Some of the wealthier people, especially if they've never been poor (or camped a lot, or something), will get up in the morning and make what might be the most important decision of their lives. "Well, look what's happened, now what am I going to do about this?" They'll develop at attitude of "What will I do today to take care of me and mine", and they'll use that mental attitude to cope.
But I think many people are going to have a nervous breakdown.
A lot of them haven't even admitted to themselves the possibility that society could ever have even a temporary breakdown. Maybe it's too terrifying to contemplate. Although when a minor disaster hits, I personally find myself a lot calmer with my bottles of water and cupboards of food and candles and wood stove and wood. It's like, 'Oh, OK, this is what I prepped for, now this is what I'm supposed to do'.
While some people are having their nervous breakdowns, they might not even have clean drinking water, or food, or heat, or light, or medication, because it never occurred to them that they could be thrown on their own resources, for even a few days.
They will be in shock to find themselves in a situation where it no longer matters what kind of flooring they have in their shower.
Thursday, July 26, 2012
C-R-A-A-A-C-K-!-!-!-!-!-!-!
I'm still here. Waiting to hear from Medicaid, waiting to hear from Social Security about that CD I'm supposed to have gotten. I've done a bit of checking into immunologists, and it looks like I'm going to have to get somebody to drive me a couple of hundred miles at least if I want to see one as part of my appeals process.
On a brighter note (no pun intended), I could have been killed Tuesday. We think we had a bolt of lightning hit the electric pole in front of our house. In forty-six years of living, I have never seen white light (with a touch of blue) light up the entire interior of a house like that. Simultaneously, there was a sound like the end of the world, and a huge POP. And a second burst of white light, almost as bright as the first. That POP was all of our lights getting knocked out. What is it with us and electricity this year, anyway? With some fiddling with the breaker box outside (after the lightning subsided) I got most of the lights on, but two outlets were not working, and we have no hot water. My husband doesn't come home until tomorrow night.
I don't know what possessed me at the grocery store Monday--I bought three boxed family frozen dinners, which I don't normally do. They just looked good? We usually have foam plates and plastic cups and utensils on hand, wanna-be survivalist that I am. So we're okay. We just can't do dishes or laundry. Or shower. :(
Fortunately when the storm started I unplugged all of our technology. I love my tech.
I had some work coaxing one of the dogs outside an hour later--I had to go outside and show her that it was safe, and talk her into following me a little bit at a time.
On a much brighter note, my sister is coming in a couple of weeks. :) So today my four girls and I went over and helped clean Mom & Dad's house. I cleared spiderwebs (there weren't many) all over, swept outside, and scrubbed--bathroom sinks, toilets, kitchen sink. The girls dusted every single thing, and cleaned mirrors. Mom & Dad bought us lunch and paid the girls.
And we reminisced about the time my second daughter was around three years old, and we were watching a television show at home about a mother having a baby. She wanted to know what had happened to the other one.
You see, she had (still has, she's just older....) a six-year-old sister, who I think she may have thought was her twin. We had the real twins. I have one sister. My mother has one sister. My husband has--two sisters. His mother was a twin. I guess it was a logical assumption.
We had a tiny bit of excitement on the way out this morning--we saw a woman walking on our (very isolated) road, with a black pick-up with tinted windows slowly following her. I don't know what possessed me, but I sped up the lane with my phone in one hand and pulled up beside them--and by then it was obvious they were just looking at the corn crop--they knew each other. So I didn't have to ram the pick-up with my car or anything. lol I was almost a hero. Something must have activated my 'mother bear' gene.
And I didn't notice if there were tears on their faces--honestly, the corn crops around here are mostly toast. I'll be really impressed with genetic engineering if the rain saved half that corn. But they may have lucked out--the beans are looking better every day, and they may sell for a high price because of the drought.
Oh, and I found another blog I like: http://theaspiewizard.wordpress.com/2012/06/24/the-confusion-of-aspergers/ . It's written by an autistic woman. Tonight I enjoyed reading an earlier blog entry about her cat, Dammit Fletcher. I might blog about another one of her posts one of these days.
Not much else happening. We've had a lot of rain, and I mowed the lawn last night for the first time in ages, and the mower cooperated by running continuously. Tonight I got out the weed whacker. It's nice not to have to water all the plants all the time. I can only hope this continues. I know that the drought hasn't abated at all in most of the rest of the half of the country that's been affected.
I've got the framework down for the second movement of my sonata. I'm pretty happy with it.
I've been looking into taking an online class on Kabbalah. Right now the cost is prohibitive. But I found out tonight that there may be a scholarship available. I'm just finishing my third book from the box I got for postage several weeks ago. 'God Wears Lipstick' by Karen Berg. Before that it was 'The Monster is Real' by Yehuda Berg. I've been taking notes, too. I'm starting to think it might be a good idea to read the Zohar. There's an English version, but it's quite a commitment--twenty-three volumes in all.
More volumes than Harry Potter. :) But I'm a firm believer in the idea that you don't really understand a religion until you've read the literature upon which it was founded. I've been stunned over the years at how the tenets of Christianity have been misrepresented in all sorts of creative ways.
And now that I'm getting all philisophical, it must be almost bedtime. I'm not convinced of the wisdom of blogging right before bedtime--my brain generally tries to go to sleep an hour or so before my body.
Good night!
On a brighter note (no pun intended), I could have been killed Tuesday. We think we had a bolt of lightning hit the electric pole in front of our house. In forty-six years of living, I have never seen white light (with a touch of blue) light up the entire interior of a house like that. Simultaneously, there was a sound like the end of the world, and a huge POP. And a second burst of white light, almost as bright as the first. That POP was all of our lights getting knocked out. What is it with us and electricity this year, anyway? With some fiddling with the breaker box outside (after the lightning subsided) I got most of the lights on, but two outlets were not working, and we have no hot water. My husband doesn't come home until tomorrow night.
I don't know what possessed me at the grocery store Monday--I bought three boxed family frozen dinners, which I don't normally do. They just looked good? We usually have foam plates and plastic cups and utensils on hand, wanna-be survivalist that I am. So we're okay. We just can't do dishes or laundry. Or shower. :(
Fortunately when the storm started I unplugged all of our technology. I love my tech.
I had some work coaxing one of the dogs outside an hour later--I had to go outside and show her that it was safe, and talk her into following me a little bit at a time.
On a much brighter note, my sister is coming in a couple of weeks. :) So today my four girls and I went over and helped clean Mom & Dad's house. I cleared spiderwebs (there weren't many) all over, swept outside, and scrubbed--bathroom sinks, toilets, kitchen sink. The girls dusted every single thing, and cleaned mirrors. Mom & Dad bought us lunch and paid the girls.
And we reminisced about the time my second daughter was around three years old, and we were watching a television show at home about a mother having a baby. She wanted to know what had happened to the other one.
You see, she had (still has, she's just older....) a six-year-old sister, who I think she may have thought was her twin. We had the real twins. I have one sister. My mother has one sister. My husband has--two sisters. His mother was a twin. I guess it was a logical assumption.
We had a tiny bit of excitement on the way out this morning--we saw a woman walking on our (very isolated) road, with a black pick-up with tinted windows slowly following her. I don't know what possessed me, but I sped up the lane with my phone in one hand and pulled up beside them--and by then it was obvious they were just looking at the corn crop--they knew each other. So I didn't have to ram the pick-up with my car or anything. lol I was almost a hero. Something must have activated my 'mother bear' gene.
And I didn't notice if there were tears on their faces--honestly, the corn crops around here are mostly toast. I'll be really impressed with genetic engineering if the rain saved half that corn. But they may have lucked out--the beans are looking better every day, and they may sell for a high price because of the drought.
Oh, and I found another blog I like: http://theaspiewizard.wordpress.com/2012/06/24/the-confusion-of-aspergers/ . It's written by an autistic woman. Tonight I enjoyed reading an earlier blog entry about her cat, Dammit Fletcher. I might blog about another one of her posts one of these days.
Not much else happening. We've had a lot of rain, and I mowed the lawn last night for the first time in ages, and the mower cooperated by running continuously. Tonight I got out the weed whacker. It's nice not to have to water all the plants all the time. I can only hope this continues. I know that the drought hasn't abated at all in most of the rest of the half of the country that's been affected.
I've got the framework down for the second movement of my sonata. I'm pretty happy with it.
I've been looking into taking an online class on Kabbalah. Right now the cost is prohibitive. But I found out tonight that there may be a scholarship available. I'm just finishing my third book from the box I got for postage several weeks ago. 'God Wears Lipstick' by Karen Berg. Before that it was 'The Monster is Real' by Yehuda Berg. I've been taking notes, too. I'm starting to think it might be a good idea to read the Zohar. There's an English version, but it's quite a commitment--twenty-three volumes in all.
More volumes than Harry Potter. :) But I'm a firm believer in the idea that you don't really understand a religion until you've read the literature upon which it was founded. I've been stunned over the years at how the tenets of Christianity have been misrepresented in all sorts of creative ways.
And now that I'm getting all philisophical, it must be almost bedtime. I'm not convinced of the wisdom of blogging right before bedtime--my brain generally tries to go to sleep an hour or so before my body.
Good night!
Monday, July 23, 2012
Anybody know where I can get cheap mangoes?
Well, I went out shopping today. We went to the post office (to pick up a package from my sister), the library (to drop off a few items that were due), my parents' house (to get cash for groceries), lunch, the bank, the dollar store (daughter #4 had tooth fairy money to spend), Wal-Mart (daughter #1 had birthday money to spend) and Radio Shack, and Kroger's. There must be somewhere we didn't go--I can't think of it now, my brains are fried. It sounds like a lot of shopping, but I was very careful and I still have money left. :) When you mostly buy staples, you can fill a cart pretty cheaply. While we were at Wal-Mart, I checked the day-old bread, and the cheese and meat in case they were on sale. I know what's cheapest to buy at which store.
I'm going to start watching for the price of meat to go down because of the drought. Although it rained here again today (Yippee!). In fact, it poured. And it was windy while we were gone, but most of the trees are still intact--I think we've shaken out all the weaklings and dead branches now. When the meat goes on sale, I think I'll buy as much as I can and stick it in the deep freeze for when the prices go up because of the drought. You see, first people are supposed to start liquidating stock as fast as they can, and then there is supposed to be a shortage later on. If there isn't, we'll still use the meat anyway.
I chatted with the cashier and stock person (both women) at one store, and we started talking about how bad the economy is. My husband is a college grad with a part-time job. There's a lot of that going around. And then the cashier made an innocuous little comment about me staying home with the kids. I decided not to get into hypogammaglobulinemia, let alone all the other challenges I face (I lost my gas station today, but I found it on the second attempt, and my father was surprised when we were discussing which restaurant to go to on my second daughter's birthday in a couple of weeks and I had no idea how to get to this place we've been to several times, and last night I couldn't identify the movie playing on TV because my family had the commentary on and I couldn't hear anything--you didn't think I could identify the movie when I can't recognize any of the scenery or faces, did you?). Afterwards, though, I wondered if I should have at least mentioned the disease and how sick I get. I think I just don't have the energy right now.
And....the Medicaid people are refusing to communicate with me. I finally looked up the address of the local FSSA (Family & Social Services Administration) and made copies of everything that's been asked for and stuck it in the mailbox. With a big ATTN: heading that included which form was in there and what it was for. I doubt they'll get it in time. When they cancel us I'll call that reporter.
I have really had it with these people. In case you haven't been following this.
And then Verizon was going to shut off our phone and internet service (they like to be paid every month or so, imagine that!), so I had to ask my mother to pay our phone bill. And she called them. Five times. To wade through the bureaucracy. My mother is priceless.
I finally found the phone number to pay the bill on our printable bill online. Our twenty-one page printable bill. Seriously? Who needs twenty-one pages for one bill?
On a cheerier note--you gotta love this:
http://news.ninemsn.com.au/world/8503447/us-woman-80-fights-off-robbers-with-mangoes
That mother bear instinct never does fade, does it? A woman's store is being robbed, and out comes her 80-year-old mother to chase the robbers off by pelting them with mangoes.
I think I'll fantasize about walking into the FSSA office with a bowl of mangoes.
And now I have things to do--non-perishable groceries and dishes from supper are everywhere. At least I don't have to water my plants.
Bye!
I'm going to start watching for the price of meat to go down because of the drought. Although it rained here again today (Yippee!). In fact, it poured. And it was windy while we were gone, but most of the trees are still intact--I think we've shaken out all the weaklings and dead branches now. When the meat goes on sale, I think I'll buy as much as I can and stick it in the deep freeze for when the prices go up because of the drought. You see, first people are supposed to start liquidating stock as fast as they can, and then there is supposed to be a shortage later on. If there isn't, we'll still use the meat anyway.
I chatted with the cashier and stock person (both women) at one store, and we started talking about how bad the economy is. My husband is a college grad with a part-time job. There's a lot of that going around. And then the cashier made an innocuous little comment about me staying home with the kids. I decided not to get into hypogammaglobulinemia, let alone all the other challenges I face (I lost my gas station today, but I found it on the second attempt, and my father was surprised when we were discussing which restaurant to go to on my second daughter's birthday in a couple of weeks and I had no idea how to get to this place we've been to several times, and last night I couldn't identify the movie playing on TV because my family had the commentary on and I couldn't hear anything--you didn't think I could identify the movie when I can't recognize any of the scenery or faces, did you?). Afterwards, though, I wondered if I should have at least mentioned the disease and how sick I get. I think I just don't have the energy right now.
And....the Medicaid people are refusing to communicate with me. I finally looked up the address of the local FSSA (Family & Social Services Administration) and made copies of everything that's been asked for and stuck it in the mailbox. With a big ATTN: heading that included which form was in there and what it was for. I doubt they'll get it in time. When they cancel us I'll call that reporter.
I have really had it with these people. In case you haven't been following this.
And then Verizon was going to shut off our phone and internet service (they like to be paid every month or so, imagine that!), so I had to ask my mother to pay our phone bill. And she called them. Five times. To wade through the bureaucracy. My mother is priceless.
I finally found the phone number to pay the bill on our printable bill online. Our twenty-one page printable bill. Seriously? Who needs twenty-one pages for one bill?
On a cheerier note--you gotta love this:
http://news.ninemsn.com.au/world/8503447/us-woman-80-fights-off-robbers-with-mangoes
That mother bear instinct never does fade, does it? A woman's store is being robbed, and out comes her 80-year-old mother to chase the robbers off by pelting them with mangoes.
I think I'll fantasize about walking into the FSSA office with a bowl of mangoes.
And now I have things to do--non-perishable groceries and dishes from supper are everywhere. At least I don't have to water my plants.
Bye!
Saturday, July 21, 2012
:( S.N.A.F.U.--More Medicaid Fun
Today I finally got the list of documents Medicaid requires in order to not cancel my children's insurance--cancel as a punishment, apparently, for my husband's being in the National Guard. We went for many years--twelve and a half--without experiencing this even once, until he started basic training in January of 2009. Immediately (only three or four days after he left) we were cancelled. It happened again a few days after he left for his two summer weeks in 2010, and again (you guessed it) a few days after he left for his three summer weeks in Germany in 2011. And now it's happened just the same way again this year.
I've spoken in another blog post of that January in 2009, when I had to try to convince Medicaid that my husband was not working in Oklahoma (where basic training was) while he was also working here in Indiana (where his civilian job was on hold until he came back).
My husband said maybe it's an annual thing. But he doesn't have his summer service even near the same date every summer, and the basic training was in January.
I'm picturing one government official saying to another that they think it would be a good idea to cancel children's health insurance whenever the weather turns warm. That sounds about as senseless as, "How dare he join the military? We'll show him!"
The Medicaid people obviously know immediately whenever my husband changes jobs. And the Social Security Administration knows exactly how much we all make (unless they screw it up like they did for me a few years back). A lot of us down here in the below-the-poverty-limit trenches have wildly varying incomes, so I'm not even sure that a month's worth of pay stubs is the best possible indicator. Our tax return, perhaps, would be better. But it doesn't matter to us, personally. Not this year. Well, not any year. I suppose when he got his National Guard bonus--that would have really messed things up if we'd had to convince them we didn't get paid that much every month.
We only have two pay stubs to show them, and the military one is for pay we haven't even received yet. We're a long way from being cancelled because of our income.
I would also kindly (or perhaps not so very kindly at this point) suggest giving people a much more generous deadline period. Or they could just get the information from Social Security or the IRS, thereby bypassing the need for all those pesky deadlines, and for all that additional paperwork, and for all those pesky pay stubs that must be processed.
But I'm no expert--maybe there are good reasons to immediately gather pay stubs whenever anyone is ordered to report for military duty. Anyway, it doesn't matter what I think.
So I gathered the information Medicaid asked for, beginning with my address, which prompted my third child, who at eleven is already smarter than many government officials, to wonder aloud how the paperwork managed to arrive at our house if they don't have that particular piece of information. I copied all our Tricare cards, which we couldn't use without the Medicaid to cover deductibles and co-pays, and the last 30 days' pay stubs (except for the stub for this last week, which, understandably, has not yet been processed). I filled out a few blanks, and signed my name at the bottom.
So far, so good.
Except....
There is no return address.
Not on the envelope. Not on the form. I looked. So did my husband.
I just want to state, publicly and for the record, that I would never in my wildest dreams walk into a government office and start shooting people. Just sayin'.
I will, as of Monday, have only six day left before the paperwork must have arrived (by mail) at their office. It has to be there by Saturday. Possibly Friday--I can't imagine them giving me a break just because the office will be closed on Saturday. And now I will have to waste some of that precious time begging as many government agencies as I can find for that address. Maybe I'll get lucky and one of them will respond Monday, and then I can mail the paperwork on Tuesday. So far my luck hasn't been anything like that.
Did I mention that it takes that office several days once they get the paperwork to process it so that they know they have it? Let me be clear--my documents don't count as having arrived on the day they arrived, they count as having arrived after they've been processed. Yes, really.
I wrote my congressman again today. All I can do is complain. Lawyers aren't for people like us. Neither is being treated with respect.
I've spoken in another blog post of that January in 2009, when I had to try to convince Medicaid that my husband was not working in Oklahoma (where basic training was) while he was also working here in Indiana (where his civilian job was on hold until he came back).
My husband said maybe it's an annual thing. But he doesn't have his summer service even near the same date every summer, and the basic training was in January.
I'm picturing one government official saying to another that they think it would be a good idea to cancel children's health insurance whenever the weather turns warm. That sounds about as senseless as, "How dare he join the military? We'll show him!"
The Medicaid people obviously know immediately whenever my husband changes jobs. And the Social Security Administration knows exactly how much we all make (unless they screw it up like they did for me a few years back). A lot of us down here in the below-the-poverty-limit trenches have wildly varying incomes, so I'm not even sure that a month's worth of pay stubs is the best possible indicator. Our tax return, perhaps, would be better. But it doesn't matter to us, personally. Not this year. Well, not any year. I suppose when he got his National Guard bonus--that would have really messed things up if we'd had to convince them we didn't get paid that much every month.
We only have two pay stubs to show them, and the military one is for pay we haven't even received yet. We're a long way from being cancelled because of our income.
I would also kindly (or perhaps not so very kindly at this point) suggest giving people a much more generous deadline period. Or they could just get the information from Social Security or the IRS, thereby bypassing the need for all those pesky deadlines, and for all that additional paperwork, and for all those pesky pay stubs that must be processed.
But I'm no expert--maybe there are good reasons to immediately gather pay stubs whenever anyone is ordered to report for military duty. Anyway, it doesn't matter what I think.
So I gathered the information Medicaid asked for, beginning with my address, which prompted my third child, who at eleven is already smarter than many government officials, to wonder aloud how the paperwork managed to arrive at our house if they don't have that particular piece of information. I copied all our Tricare cards, which we couldn't use without the Medicaid to cover deductibles and co-pays, and the last 30 days' pay stubs (except for the stub for this last week, which, understandably, has not yet been processed). I filled out a few blanks, and signed my name at the bottom.
So far, so good.
Except....
There is no return address.
Not on the envelope. Not on the form. I looked. So did my husband.
I just want to state, publicly and for the record, that I would never in my wildest dreams walk into a government office and start shooting people. Just sayin'.
I will, as of Monday, have only six day left before the paperwork must have arrived (by mail) at their office. It has to be there by Saturday. Possibly Friday--I can't imagine them giving me a break just because the office will be closed on Saturday. And now I will have to waste some of that precious time begging as many government agencies as I can find for that address. Maybe I'll get lucky and one of them will respond Monday, and then I can mail the paperwork on Tuesday. So far my luck hasn't been anything like that.
Did I mention that it takes that office several days once they get the paperwork to process it so that they know they have it? Let me be clear--my documents don't count as having arrived on the day they arrived, they count as having arrived after they've been processed. Yes, really.
I wrote my congressman again today. All I can do is complain. Lawyers aren't for people like us. Neither is being treated with respect.
Friday, July 20, 2012
Welcome to My Third World Island
Today's Picture of the Week (definitely not a Third World Island):
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Today, as part of my ongoing Social Security disability appeal, I received a several-page form from a lawyer I am scheduled to see next month. I've started a binder into which I am putting all of the paperwork I have.
I copied everything before I sent it to SS, which is good, because, while I am supposed to be able to get a CD with my disability folder information on it, I haven't gotten it yet. I've started trying to find out why it hasn't arrived. I can't help but note that I only have 10 days from the date something is mailed to respond to any request of theirs. In my last communication today I informed them that I have an appointment with a lawyer and that the lawyer would like this information.
I have to send them a medical release form. They will not accept the medical release form without a cover sheet. Fortunately I was able to print that out also. The cover sheet is to tell them that they are getting a medical release form. Seriously.
While this is going on, I've started fighting with Medicaid. Yesterday I emailed and emailed, explaining that we have spotty phone service in our rural area. A nice woman whose emails state at the bottom that she is bilingual tried to help me by email. I'm not at all sure that English is one of the two languages with which she is fluent. It doesn't matter anyway--once they got my identification information, they stopped all contact. Really. I sent them a cranky email today. Something I just about never do. No response. Wow.
I can't find out whether or not my children have been cancelled. This could be important if someone gets hurt or sick--we could find ourselves with thousands of dollars worth of medical bills that we can't pay.
Meanwhile, I've also been chatting with another CVID patient who was helping me look for resources. It looks like I've already looked everywhere. I just don't qualify for help from anybody. There is always a reason. It's in another city (or state). I haven't proven that I'm disabled. It costs money. I've applied to programs and just been completely ignored. I've recently reapplied. Patient Assistance, ACCESS, etc.
This woman made a comment about United States citizens dying because they can't get antibiotics.
I didn't realize that my island is in a third world country. If it weren't for my family, we'd be hungry, and quite possibly homeless by now. And there would be no lawyer. I would have given up completely by now. I would quite likely never have applied to Social Security again.
On the brighter side, we got three torrential downpours in two days. They're saying the drought isn't over, but this has certainly been a step in the right direction. Maybe the soybeans surrounding us will survive. The farmer who rents our land would be happy to see that. His corn may be toast now, but a lot of soybeans might not make it either, and the ones that do will sell for a good price. And any corn that does have ears--the rain will help make them good ears. I don't think the corn near us has many ears, though. I've seen only a very few fields that look at all healthy.
Nothing else happening here. I've been playing something different--music from the 30's, 40's, through the 70's, Broadway stuff, etc.--it's good once in a while. I've started improvising just a bit.
I remember when I was in high school, taking beginning piano lessons. I had a second teacher, after the first (a very nice lady) said she couldn't teach me anymore after a very short time. I remember saying something to teacher number two about how I didn't like the way a certain piece of music sounded, and that it would sound better in such a way. I don't remember which piece it was. But I learned something that day--that you don't change the music. Teaching myself has taught me something else--you don't always listen to teachers.
Now I wonder--I was just starting out--this wasn't a piece of classically great music--at most it was a simplified version of something. Maybe I was right--maybe I could have improved it. Maybe that way of thinking should have been encouraged, while it was being explained to me that we generally adhere precisely to classical music.
Those lessons were very haphazard. Oh well, I like teaching myself anyway. There are a lot of modern composers whose music I can't stand, and I can just ignore them. If something interests me I can obsess about it to no end. If I for some reason don't get something, I can just keep trying at my own pace without having to worry about it. If I've already got it, I can move on. And I can play any piece I want, even if it's too hard--those are always my favorites.
Time to go finish my binder now. Bye.
.jpg)
Another Bing picture--it's Gdansk, Poland.
Today, as part of my ongoing Social Security disability appeal, I received a several-page form from a lawyer I am scheduled to see next month. I've started a binder into which I am putting all of the paperwork I have.
I copied everything before I sent it to SS, which is good, because, while I am supposed to be able to get a CD with my disability folder information on it, I haven't gotten it yet. I've started trying to find out why it hasn't arrived. I can't help but note that I only have 10 days from the date something is mailed to respond to any request of theirs. In my last communication today I informed them that I have an appointment with a lawyer and that the lawyer would like this information.
I have to send them a medical release form. They will not accept the medical release form without a cover sheet. Fortunately I was able to print that out also. The cover sheet is to tell them that they are getting a medical release form. Seriously.
While this is going on, I've started fighting with Medicaid. Yesterday I emailed and emailed, explaining that we have spotty phone service in our rural area. A nice woman whose emails state at the bottom that she is bilingual tried to help me by email. I'm not at all sure that English is one of the two languages with which she is fluent. It doesn't matter anyway--once they got my identification information, they stopped all contact. Really. I sent them a cranky email today. Something I just about never do. No response. Wow.
I can't find out whether or not my children have been cancelled. This could be important if someone gets hurt or sick--we could find ourselves with thousands of dollars worth of medical bills that we can't pay.
Meanwhile, I've also been chatting with another CVID patient who was helping me look for resources. It looks like I've already looked everywhere. I just don't qualify for help from anybody. There is always a reason. It's in another city (or state). I haven't proven that I'm disabled. It costs money. I've applied to programs and just been completely ignored. I've recently reapplied. Patient Assistance, ACCESS, etc.
This woman made a comment about United States citizens dying because they can't get antibiotics.
I didn't realize that my island is in a third world country. If it weren't for my family, we'd be hungry, and quite possibly homeless by now. And there would be no lawyer. I would have given up completely by now. I would quite likely never have applied to Social Security again.
On the brighter side, we got three torrential downpours in two days. They're saying the drought isn't over, but this has certainly been a step in the right direction. Maybe the soybeans surrounding us will survive. The farmer who rents our land would be happy to see that. His corn may be toast now, but a lot of soybeans might not make it either, and the ones that do will sell for a good price. And any corn that does have ears--the rain will help make them good ears. I don't think the corn near us has many ears, though. I've seen only a very few fields that look at all healthy.
Nothing else happening here. I've been playing something different--music from the 30's, 40's, through the 70's, Broadway stuff, etc.--it's good once in a while. I've started improvising just a bit.
I remember when I was in high school, taking beginning piano lessons. I had a second teacher, after the first (a very nice lady) said she couldn't teach me anymore after a very short time. I remember saying something to teacher number two about how I didn't like the way a certain piece of music sounded, and that it would sound better in such a way. I don't remember which piece it was. But I learned something that day--that you don't change the music. Teaching myself has taught me something else--you don't always listen to teachers.
Now I wonder--I was just starting out--this wasn't a piece of classically great music--at most it was a simplified version of something. Maybe I was right--maybe I could have improved it. Maybe that way of thinking should have been encouraged, while it was being explained to me that we generally adhere precisely to classical music.
Those lessons were very haphazard. Oh well, I like teaching myself anyway. There are a lot of modern composers whose music I can't stand, and I can just ignore them. If something interests me I can obsess about it to no end. If I for some reason don't get something, I can just keep trying at my own pace without having to worry about it. If I've already got it, I can move on. And I can play any piece I want, even if it's too hard--those are always my favorites.
Time to go finish my binder now. Bye.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
If You Need Me, I'll Just Be Under the Table
This is what it's often like around here. I get up a bit early so I can get a jump on everything. I'm dressed, hair's fixed, a few chores are done, and I've had breakfast. Child number one has been doing school for a while, children two and three are sitting at opposite ends of the dining room table (so they can't reach each other lol), and child number four is getting ready to start soon. I am printing worksheets. Today it's English and spelling. I have out the binders and paper and a three-hole punch. And I've started the paperwork online for my Social Security appeal. Probably shoulda waited on that. So I'm grading, and answering questions, and printing, and collating, and filling out forms online, oh, and overseeing one of the girls doing their morning chores and trying to keep most of the stuff picked up everywhere. I want to get all this done because later I have to drive two of the girls to their friends' house, and at ten I usually call my mother.
So don't say I never do anything around here. Just about the time the paper jams in the printer and three people need something graded all at the same time, the phone starts beeping at me and I have to get online and open up our bank statement, and then the mail comes and there's something else to fill out. Now the dining room table looks like a file cabinet threw up on it. So, if you would, please hand a tissue under the table, and ignore the whimpering. My breakdown will be over in a few minutes, and then I'll be back to work.
And we had even more fun this afternoon. It got darker and darker, and then all the dead leaves on the trees started flying everywhere, and then black clouds were making several swirly circle above the house. It looked just like Van Gogh's Starry Night, except Starry Night doesn't usually inspire frantic prayer on my part. Well, we're all fine here--somehow we just lost one tree limb. It took me a while to figure out where it came from--it didn't just land under the tree. Maybe it was the prayer. It was as if God was saying with the tree limb, 'See, this is what I could have done.'
Then we came back home from dropping off the girls. (Picture me getting out of the car, looking around the yard, looking up at the sky, and saying in a loud voice, "I just cleaned this".) By this time I was ready for a break. But our lights were out. And the phone wasn't working. The internet wasn't working well, either, but I managed to contact the power company. And pretty soon the lights were back on. And now here I am happily parked in front of my computer where I belong.
We had a LOT of rain, too, which was nice for a change, although it won't fix the drought. My youngest asked why rain was coming from the sky instead of a hose. lol
I have all the evening chores done now. The table is all cleared off. I think I'll go play a little piano--it'll be bedtime soon. Sometimes all I can do is get in a few minutes here and there. Tomorrow we'll have another busy day--going to pick up the girls and then go to a carnival with my parents. Wish me luck again--I have no idea where the carnival is. But I did find the girls' friends' house. :) First try. You know, it only takes a half-hour to get there if you don't get lost.
So don't say I never do anything around here. Just about the time the paper jams in the printer and three people need something graded all at the same time, the phone starts beeping at me and I have to get online and open up our bank statement, and then the mail comes and there's something else to fill out. Now the dining room table looks like a file cabinet threw up on it. So, if you would, please hand a tissue under the table, and ignore the whimpering. My breakdown will be over in a few minutes, and then I'll be back to work.
And we had even more fun this afternoon. It got darker and darker, and then all the dead leaves on the trees started flying everywhere, and then black clouds were making several swirly circle above the house. It looked just like Van Gogh's Starry Night, except Starry Night doesn't usually inspire frantic prayer on my part. Well, we're all fine here--somehow we just lost one tree limb. It took me a while to figure out where it came from--it didn't just land under the tree. Maybe it was the prayer. It was as if God was saying with the tree limb, 'See, this is what I could have done.'
Then we came back home from dropping off the girls. (Picture me getting out of the car, looking around the yard, looking up at the sky, and saying in a loud voice, "I just cleaned this".) By this time I was ready for a break. But our lights were out. And the phone wasn't working. The internet wasn't working well, either, but I managed to contact the power company. And pretty soon the lights were back on. And now here I am happily parked in front of my computer where I belong.
We had a LOT of rain, too, which was nice for a change, although it won't fix the drought. My youngest asked why rain was coming from the sky instead of a hose. lol
I have all the evening chores done now. The table is all cleared off. I think I'll go play a little piano--it'll be bedtime soon. Sometimes all I can do is get in a few minutes here and there. Tomorrow we'll have another busy day--going to pick up the girls and then go to a carnival with my parents. Wish me luck again--I have no idea where the carnival is. But I did find the girls' friends' house. :) First try. You know, it only takes a half-hour to get there if you don't get lost.
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