Tuesday, September 10, 2013

Since I'm sure you're dying to know . . .

Some randomness for you . .

I haven't written recently because I'm still recovering from the first week of school. It was brutal, just brutal. Now, my daughter needs to get up and get out of the house at the same time every weekday, regardless of whether school is in session or not. However, the first week of school was particularly bad - at least in the mornings. Maybe it's because we have extra stuff to deal with - lunchbox, backpack, etc. I don't know. Yesterday was just as bad as last week. We sent her off to daycare with dirty teeth and no breakfast, because she couldn't get her act together (I did toss her an apple as she and her dad were leaving). Her dad set the punishment - no Kindle and no TV last night. This hits her where it hurts because no Kindle = no Minecraft.  Honestly, I think we could threaten to send her to Siberia and she'd still spend half an hour rolling around in her bed and complaining that she can't get dressed because Gretchen (her dog) is standing on her sock.

In other news, I think she is planning to bury me and her dad - sooner than later.  She and I were on a little road trip last week. She occupied herself in the back seat by making a collage out of some Halloween-themed foam stickers I bought her recently.  "Mom, where do you buy rips anyway?"

I had no idea what she was talking about.  I glanced back at what she was doing and saw that she had created a cemetery out of headstone stickers. Each sticker bore the letters R.I.P.

"Ohhhh," I said. "That stands for rest in peace, sweetie. It's not rips."

"Well, where can I buy one?"

"A headstone? There is a place over on Riverside that makes them. Why, are you planning to bury me and Daddy soon?"

She just shrugged like this was an ordinary conversation. I explained to her that I don't really want to be buried (even after I'm dead), so she will not need to purchase a rip for me. Then we talked a bit about organ donation. I told her that if any of my organs are worth having, she should make sure they get donated. She assured me that if it seemed like I might need any of my organs in the event that there's some way to resuscitate me or fix whatever killed me, she'll make sure to hang onto them for a bit. So, that's all very reassuring. I think her dad and I will sleep with our bedroom door locked for a while, just to be on the safe side.

Update on self-improvement project: not much to report. I may have lost some weight but I don't know because I haven't been weighing myself. I find it too traumatic. However, I've been working out and watching my food very carefully, so I think I'm doing okay. My sister gave me a couple of jobs for the wedding, so I'm working on those. One job is to assemble a photo montage, which will be played at the reception. It's a lot of fun - I like doing that sort of thing. Plus, I'm pretty sure this is better than some of the jobs a bride could dole out.

And finally . . . my mom-mobile.  As you may recall, I was hit by an uninsured driver a couple weeks ago. Now, I knew that the insurance company would find various ways to botch this whole process; I just didn't realize they would start bungling it quite so soon. The accident happened on August 29th. I spoke with a claim rep on the 30th, which was the Friday before the holiday weekend. That person told me that I have exactly one choice as far as where I can take my car for the repair: a Chevy dealership. I don't drive a Chevy, but I guess that's how these things work. She told me that the Chevy place would call me to set up an appointment. I figured that with the holiday weekend, I'd probably hear something on Tuesday. I heard nothing. No ringy-dingy

So, on Friday the 6th, I called the insurance company for an update. I explained that I had not been contacted by the auto-body shop. The insurance lady put me on hold and called the Chevy dealership. Then she got back on the phone with me. "Dave left you a voicemail on Tuesday," she said. I told her I would just call the dealership myself.  I then asked if they had contacted the woman who hit me. She told me no and then proceeded to make me repeat everything that had transpired thus far.

I then hung up and called the repair guy. "Oh, I called you on Tuesday and left a message at such-and-such number that the insurance company gave me," he said. I explained that I have had the same home phone number for over 15 years and that I in no way recognized the phone number he used. But, whatevs, right?

So, anyway, I took my car in today to get an estimate. Drumroll, please . . . $2,414.00.  Ouch. I have to pay $500, which sucks every which way.

In order to end this party on a light note, I thought I'd share photos of the massive sunflower my daughter and I managed to grow this summer. We try it every summer, but usually some woodland creature demolishes it before it gets a chance to get up and running. She says it's "her" sunflower but I can't help but notice that it somehow grew without any watering from her. Or, any involvement at all, for that matter. Ah well. That bee is pretty pumped about it.




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