Zostavax...where for art thou?

                                                                

Major can of worms.  I am simply trying to get the Shingles vaccine and I think it would be easier to fly to Washington to the White House and get one from President Obama himself.  Yes, Tom Thumb has it BUT my insurance, in order to cover this $200+ injection, requires me to go to my physician's office to get it.  Thank you, Blue Cross.  Just called my OB/gyn and was told I have to go to my internist.  Hello, punt, pass, and kick.

And therein lies the rub.  I don't have one and I don't WANT one.  I need another MD in my life like I need another rotten spoiled dog.  Bruce has teased me for years that I have a specialist for every part of my body.....and I sort of do, or have had in the past, and I'm just not feeling it to add another one.  Yes, I could consolidate services, but I love my OB/gyn and am not ready to do that.  (Yet). 

So, now I have to go pick an internist, just for the damn shingles vaccine, have another physical, get established as a new patient, and all that just seems a little much for a damn shot.  Since I see an endocrinologist every six months for my thyroid and my OB/gyn yearly, this feels a whole lot REDUNDANT.  For now, I figure if I want the vaccine that bad, I'll just go throw down for it in cash.  (The typical part is, if I don't get the vaccine, I'll probably NEVER get the Shingles anyway.)   That's just how my life is. 

Preventative health care?  Sounds good in theory and on paper...it's just lots more difficult to obtain than it should be. 

I'm just back inside from a quick visit with Laura, Claire, and baby John next door.  I heard them on the driveway and ran out for quick hugs.  It was getting cold(er) so we didn't last long outside.  Since Claire runs to me for a hug, baby John is now doing it as well, so I am doubly good for nothing where they are concerned.  They hug me--I melt--x 2.  Ahhh....neighbors.  Just LOVE them!

Her guy

Sis is all excited.  Her favorite person, her main squeeze, is having another birthday dinner tonight, and she's invited.  She can hardly stand herself.  Never mind she's napping covered with a fleece blanket right now.  She's saving her energy.   That girl already knows what tonight means.  It means tonight she'll score not one but two steak bones, he'll give her bites off his plate, AND she'll have him all to herself all evening. Game, Sis.

It also means she'll bark at him and expect him to follow her when she's ready to go for her walk or put on her red flashing collar after dark so she can go alleying.  Ditto when she decides she's ready for him to tuck her in, at her determined bedtime.  He's hers--all her's--all night.  And that's how she likes it.

Honestly, I don't think we've ever had a smarter dog and I know for a fact we've had some real numskulls.  Our cocker spaniel, Molly, was either the most willful or THE dumbest dog (or both) to ever hit the planet Earth.  Wiggles was fairly bright but he was no rocket scientist that's for sure.  At least not next to Sis. 

Gosh, it's fun to watch a man and his dog, and their mutual love affair. 
                   

                                          

FEAR and CONTROL

Fear and Control.  I believe they are underneath every single issue we have going on in this world today.  Fear lurks beneath the surface for all of us whether we are in touch with it or not, and the people who are least in touch with their feelings will ASSURE YOU THEY AREN'T SCARED.  Honey, they are.  They just can't feel their feelings, they are so shut down. 
                                                       

And then you watch their behavior choices.  Every move they make gives them away.  Over and over they do the same things.  They HAVE to CONTROL or deal with their FEAR.  And since FEAR feels awful, we all choose to CONTROL instead.  It's the nature of the beast. Until you know better you can't do better and if you can't do better, you're stuck.  Stuck in the FEAR and CONTROL cycle. 

If you are a controller, it's a miserable place to be and makes life a living hell for you and the people around you.  No one wants to be controlled.  Ask yourself...do you enjoy someone trying to control you?  If not, why not?  If it doesn't feel good, then why are you doing it to someone else?  Answer:  Because you can't help it, without help.

 I sincerely believe we'd all stop it if we could, but if you aren't "awake" enough to know what you are doing, or worse, don't care or don't want to stop, just know this.  Control pushes people away from you.  Permanently.  You are going to lose loving, caring relationships because of FEAR that's not been dealt with.  And the worst news of all is this:  Other people can see it.  You aren't fooling anybody.  They can see how desperately unhappy you are even if you think they can't.  You're telling on yourself and you think no one knows.  Oh, they know all right.
And so do you.
                                            

                                                      

Last night was Bruce's celebratory birthday dinner since his birthday is Tuesday.  In our family, the birthday person gets to pick where they want to go and/or the type of food.  Now you are up to speed.  Where did my amour choose?  None other than an Ethiopian restaurant way down Greenville by LBJ.

Not being totally sure what Ethiopian food was or if I'd had it before, I did my homework before going.  I'm glad I did.  The servers were totally willing to teach you and made it look so simple but I'm still glad I knew.

No sooner were we walked to our table than we realized we knew the people at the next table.  She is a superb cook and her son is a chef so I figured if they were there, we were in pretty good shape. 

Bruce had done some online research to figure out what their best entrees were and we each ordered one of the ones suggested.  Out they came and the bread, called injera, was the weirdest looking rolled up grayish spongy stuff you've ever seen.  It was on a tray like in First Class when they hand you the warm, damp washcloths, only this was fermented bread. 

 As our waitress dumped out Bruce's Doro Wat (chicken) I noticed two large lumps.  One lump was a chicken drumstick and the other was a hard boiled egg in what tasted like a mild curry sauce.  Over that she sprinkled some cheese.
                                             

Mine was lamb Tibis with sauteed vegetables and sort of a salad served along with it.  With mine came two sauces-- a not so flavorful reddish one and a wasabi that could put the hurt on you if you weren't careful. 

To eat, you'd tear off some of the bread (right hand only) scoop up what you wanted, fold it with your fingers and tuck it neatly in your mouth.  The key word here is neatly-- and I ended up with a little bit on my shirt but oh, well.  You do not use your left hand because in Ethiopia, that hand is considered "unclean".  (Figure it out.)   Yes, you could ask for silverware, but c'mon we're in Ethiopa, remember, so let's go ethnic.  At the end, you got a little wet nap (like at Bubba's) to wipe your hand. 

All in all, it was good but not stellar.  I'd still rather go Indian or Greek, but this was a fun adventure. 

Grow up

It's time for me to STOP reading the DMN and Internet.  Again.  I wish there was a paper and an online news outlet that required intelligence in an article or subject, prior to posting.  Between Justin Bieber's drugs, alcohol, and egging antics and the ongoing recent shock jock comments about women, I'm wondering what's going on in this world. 
Justin is acting just like any fool young guy would, who has too much money at his disposal and no male parental figure (male) to jerk his leash.   Yes, he is chronologically an adult but that's BS for anyone who has ever had male kids.  His brain is chronologically about 12.  

Without a male figure to help, I simply wish Momma Bieber would have tied up all Justin's money way back when, put him on an allowance, and put all his stuff in a trust (somehow.....I'm not an attorney) until he's at least thirty five--bare minimum--to give his brain a fighting chance to mature and catch up with his body.   Guys brains DO NOT mature for a good while (years) and that's a scientific fact.  And given some of the male comments about women and gays lately (even just for publicity purposes) I'm thinking some guys brains NEVER DO MATURE.  I think their brains get crushed by their ever growing and expanding EGOS. 

I'm talking to you, Rush, Greg, Vladamir, and Mike, and those are just the guys I'm calling out today.  GROW UP. 

Options

Today chatting with a friend, she shared with me that the guy her daughter is engaged to marry in a month is....let's just say... not a keeper.  Nice guy.  He just has some big issues and she's afraid to say something to her daughter and she's afraid NOT to say something to her daughter.  Basically, she just wants her daughter to know (remember) she has options--even now--a month from the wedding.  It reminded me of what my dad said to me right before he walked me down the aisle to marry Bruce.

As we stood in the doorway of the aisle, Dad looked me straight in the eye and asked me "Do you know any of these people?" to which I died laughing and said "Well...the only one I can see that I know is Willie". (our black yardman of 40+ years seated right behind mom).  Then my dad said "Do you want to do this, because if not, I'll hitch up your dress and we'll run, and leave your mom here to explain".  I know....sweetest thing ever and I have no doubt that if I'd said "RUN!", he would have.


I assured my dad I DID want to do this, so down the aisle we went.  But....I've never forgotten it. 
Options.  You've always got 'um.  Sometimes you just need to be reminded that you have them.

                                                                       

  
 

Sochi and Shrimp

I want to go on record as saying it up front:  I'm worried about the Olympics in Sochi.  Yes, I saw today where terrorists are threatening to do something, but that's not surprising.  It's the arrogance of Putin and his minions, and their belief that they have it all under control that worries the daylights out of me.  I know....I'm a worrier.... and the thought of our athletes, TV film crews, and loads of US citizens over there getting hurt-- that's what really worries me.  I've been there and though it was a log time ago, I'm not seeing a great improvement in that country at all.  OK....I'm done.  Enough negative energy.

I woke up this morning thinking about French toast and plan on making Shrimp and Grits for dinner tonight.  Why?  I guess my brain is traveling, without my knowledge.  Maybe the French toast is from Scarletta being in Paris, and the shrimp and grits with marinara from Benji's enchiladas on base, with marinara.  Dunno but somehow that makes perfect sense to me. I've been dying to make the shrimp and grits for ages, after having them at Hattie's ages ago and since today is MLK Day, I think we'll honor him that way.  He was a southern man so I bet he'd LOVE 'um.

   OK....maybe we'll have them for lunch.   And I'm going to do cheese grits....oh, Lord....