From turkey flesh...

to the 4 year and 12 day count down to the big one. Yes, contrary to popular belief, and many of Stine's own personal delusions, the purple girl will indeed, one day, turn 40. Don't say it too loudly, k, please?

Ly is cooking up some such something-or-other for the old woman's 36th. All I know is whispers, emails sent in the night, and a little gnome getting a certain birthday card with a certain mandala on it out of my journal when he didn't know I was watching him. So, needless to say I think I have an "idea" of what one part of the b-day will entail. Honestly, don't know if I'm ready for the pain. Hell Ly, are YOU ready for me and the pain? But damnit it all, it sure will be purty when it's done - that's if I live through it again. Pardon my being vague, but I should leave some semblance of surprise for that part of my birthday. I'll post all about it after the 11th. The only other thing I know is that something else is being planned. I know there are women involved. This only leaves me to go, as the great Ly would put it - tee AND/OR hee.

Turkey day went off relatively smoothly. And despite a brief cooking time trauma, the amaretto turkey was divine. The gravy it made, despite my lovely husband's "working 65 hours a week and very *happy*" mishap throwing away the turkey drippings, the gravy was like candy. I gotta say though, I boiled the hell outta the carcass and made a tasty turkey noodle soup. It's turned into more of a stew, but the amaretto has made the base of this soup quite lovely.

In other news, I called up Virginia Mason today. This is the hospital that I've been going to for like ten years now. My insurance has been such that I have to pay 10% of all incurred charges along with my monthly payment that the school "was" paying for me. They no longer are because I'm below the number of hours it takes, etc. etc. Anyway, this is the hospital that paralyzed my vocal cord. This is the hospital that I've given shitloads of money to in the last ten years. Anyway, they sent me a bill, I called them and told them I would need to make payments. Ly and I are poor, because we pay all our bills each month and we have a lot of them. The amount I told the hospital I could pay each month was not acceptable to them. This came directly for one very indignant customer service rep. She told me I could write a letter to such and such administrator to explain why I couldn't pay what they wanted. Two months go by and I get a notice from a fucking collection agency. This hospital sent me to collections for 87.75. Of course, after my MRI in August and all this herniated disk in my neck bullshit, I owe them much more. However, this 87.75 was an old bill. I am still very busy at this point and frankly, at the time, in denial about dealing with it. I finally paid it off - thank you Ly's second job. I get two more bills from the hospital for a gazillion dollars each, and so I call them today to see what payments they have received, what they hadn't, and to tell them that there wasn't any way I could pay the gazillion dollars in one lump sum. I get this chick on the phone, and ask to speak to the woman who I was suppose to write this "letter" to the last time I spoke with someone from the hospital. Note: I started my period yesterday. This woman assures me that she could help me (not that she would have wanted that honor once she knew what was coming to her). So I launch in and my diatribe goes something like this:

"I have been a customer of Virginia Mason for ten years. I have given your hospital lots of money, and most of my doctors reside there. I told you I could pay such and such for this old bill, that was not acceptable, and you sent me to collections for 87.75. I have no car, own no home, have no assets (other than a small 401K), feel free to take my CD collection for payment. I mean Christ, your hospital paralyzed my right vocal cord in 1999. I am an actor and singer, and my voice will NEVER be what it was. I will NEVER do the things I could have done before. I am sitting here looking at 3 editorial letters that are posted and ready to be sent to all the major newspapers in this city telling my story. I'm SURE you don't want that kind of publicity for your hospital. Get someone on the phone who can HELP ME, and come up with a solution that will work for EVERYONE."

Needless to say, she worked out a payment plan with me. I still don't know how Ly and I are going to do it, especially in January when I will be out of work due to more surgery. I get so sick and fucking tired of the establishment gouging middle class poor folk who are only trying to make ends meat. The insurance companies, the drug companies should all be fucking ashamed of themselves. We are the richest, gaudiest mother-fucking country in this world, and we can't even take care of our own damn people. I am SO for socialized medicine. /end rant

It's "supposed" to snow tonight or tomorrow. I hope it sticks...a little. I miss my snow.

Note to self: Must post about dad, soon.