Dem Crazy Bones

Posted on September 3, 2023 by Sheila Moss

You know when your doctor refers you to an orthopedic surgeon it is only for one thing. I must have been mentally blocking out the word.

I put it off as long as I could but my arm and neck were hurting, and so I finally relented and made the appointment.  “You need to see an arm specialist,” said the appointment clerk, who apparently had a medical degree. “This doctor only does necks and backs.”

“I think the pain is coming from my neck,” I said, and then I played my trump, “I was referred to him by my medical doctor.”

I guess she didn’t want to match her degree against that of a real doctor, so she made the appointment. When I arrived, however, it was a doctor’s assistant who saw me. After questions, x-rays, and tapping my joints with a rubber mallet, she decided that I needed an MRI before seeing the real doctor.

I call an MRI the chamber of horrors. Needless to say, I’ve been in that machine before. I went to the appointment and dutifully allowed the technician to zap me like a wiener in the microwave.

The doctor’s office didn’t call me back, which was a good excuse not to follow up. Eventually, however, pain again drove me to make an appointment. Maybe this time I would actually see a doctor. The nurse came in and pulled up my MRI on the screen of a monitor. I waited for an eternity and finally the elusive orthopedist appeared.

He went straight to the monitor with the MRI like a moth to the light. Then he proceeded to explain what was wrong, sparing no details. I felt a little dizzy as he pointed out my all too obvious bone deficiencies and explained all the screws, saws, plates and bolts it would require to fix me.

“You don’t have any choice, you have to have surgery.”  Oh, yeah, and you might have to chain me to the operating table, I thought.

“Your neck is about as bad as it can get.”

He went on and on telling me about the danger of operating so close to my spinal cord and what might happen without surgery. Even though the nurse had her back toward me as she took notes, I could see her cringe. I wonder if anyone ever fainted before or if I would be the first.

I really didn’t want to know what he was going to do it or how he was going to do it.  When I fly on an airplane, I do not want to know how high we are going to fly, what our speed will be, or what we are flying over. I just want to know that we will end up landing safely in the city printed on the ticket.

He went on to tell me that it would actually require two operations to fix me, one from the back and one from the front. I imagined him flipping me over on the operating table like a pancake. He explained how he had been in practice for over 20 years. In fact, he had written papers and taught this procedure to medical students.

“That’s good.” I said. Really, Really Good, I thought.

“The hard part will be getting your insurance to approve it.” He then told me about another patient whose insurance would not approve surgery until he finally showed up in the emergency room unable to walk. I didn’t want to hear that either.

“How long will I be in the hospital?” I asked.

“Three days.”

He is going to cut off my head and reattach it and I will be in the hospital only three days?  Well, maybe it will not be so bad after all. I just hope it gets it back on frontwards.

Copyright 2014 Sheila Moss

Posted in Health, Humor | Tagged , , , , , , | 17 Comments

Beep, Beep, Ding

Posted on August 25, 2023 by Sheila Moss

Well, my old Corvette finally died and the cost of fixing it was greater than the value of the car. I should have traded it in long ago, but it was so nice to have no car payment. My Corvette days are now over. It was a lot of fun, but it is time to buy something more practical.

I really didn’t know what I wanted. Everyone I asked suggested a different brand, so that wasn’t much help. “I don’t want to go around car dealerships looking for a car,” I said.

My son interrupted, “Mom, that is not the way you buy a car now.”

“It isn’t? Well, how is it done?”

“You find a car you like online, and they bring it to you to look at.”

“Oh, really?” I feel so old.

He has a Hyundai and suggested I look at them. “They are good cars and have a great warranty.”

I thought the Elantra was cute. My son called and before long the salesman drove up in a shiny blue car. It was love at first sight. I made the enormously difficult decision of buying the first thing I saw. Soon I was signing on the dotted line and my checkbook was coughing.

Cars have really changed since I last bought one. This car has more bells and whistles than Air Force One. I am having a hard time adjusting to all the “driver aids.” I know times have changed — there are self-driving cars and robots that are almost human. Still, I think I am capable of thinking for myself and all the noises are starting to get on my nerves.

Get a little over the line in the road and it beeps. “It’s okay, car! I am changing lanes.” Stop at a red light and it dings when the car in front of you goes. “I can see! You don’t need to tell me everything!” The salesman had gone over all the “features” when he delivered the car. I didn’t pay much attention. I’ve been driving since before he was born.

The car doesn’t start with the key; it has a button to start it. One day it rained and I figured out the windshield wipers. It came with automatic lights, so the car itself took care of that.  However, one day I accidentally changed the setting and had to figure out the lights. I’m still working on opening the trunk. I drove it for a couple weeks thinking it locked itself when I got out and walked away. Then I found out you have to press a button on the handle and it beeps once to lock, twice to unlock. Thank goodness it didn’t get stolen.

If the car thinks you are cutting off the car behind you, it buzzes loudly. One day I was going to change lanes and another car was also changing. I put on my left turn signal and my car went nuts with buzzers. “Shut up! I see the dang car!”

I drove for a long time before it needed gas. I looked it up to see what kind of gas to put in it and how to open the gas tank. It uses the cheap stuff instead of the high-priced fuel my old car sucked down. I really, really like the back-up camera, but I don’t trust it and look anyhow.

There are many more unnecessary “assists” you can add, like remote entry. I wonder if I can get all these bells and beepers turned off and drive it like a normal car. Or maybe I should try to get used to the dings and beeps as they are safety features.

If you hear something beeping, dinging, and buzzing down the road, don’t panic. It’s only me trying to drive a car that is smarter than I am.

Copyright 2023 Sheila Moss

Posted in Automotive, Humor | Tagged , , , , , , | 9 Comments

I Hate Mosquitoes

Posted on August 19, 2023 by Sheila Moss

I hate mosquitoes! I suppose they are not especially popular with other folks either, but some of us are a particularly delicious to the little beasties. Right now I am going crazy from a red bug bite on the back of my shoulder. How did the bug get to a spot on my shoulder that I can’t even scratch? Who knows; maybe it somehow got under my shirt or maybe it had a snorkel long enough to nail me right through the material.

Mosquitoes can quickly spoil any outside adventure. Where I live, they have never been a problem, but this year they are especially prolific. It isn’t just me that has noticed it. Other people have commented on the bountiful crop this year as well. There are supposedly ways to keep them away from your property, or at least lessen the number. You can have your grass sprayed with pesticides, but I am not a fan of broadcasting pesticides that kill useful pollinators, like bees and butterflies, along with undesirable insects.

Articles always say to avoid mosquitoes get rid of anything that provides a breeding place, even small puddles in drains or saucers under plants. I don’t have anything like that, but I can’t police the neighbors. Also, there are many natural streams in the area which could provide puddles of still water. As I told the exterminator when he suggested spraying my yard, what good will it be as mosquitoes can travel long distances to locate a meal.

Because of my susceptibility to these evil insects, I have gone to the trouble of trying to figure out what it is that makes me so tasty. I found out that they are mini vampires that want to suck my blood. They are particular, though, and like type O+ blood best of all. Need I say what my blood type is? There isn’t much you can do about your blood type. However, I read that other things attract as well, for instance sweat and floral scent. I try to avoid anything scented when I go outside, but sweat is another thing hard to avoid, especially when the weather is as hot as it has been this summer.

My only defense is insect repellant. I sprayed my legs and arms when I was working outside recently, but it didn’t keep that one crazed mosquito away. According to my information, the repellant must contain a chemical called DEET to be effective. I suppose this particular ‘skeeter did not read the research. Or perhaps that is why it attacked from behind where I had failed to spray. Next time, if there is a next time, I will spray myself from head to toe. Spraying your skin with chemicals can’t be a good thing, so I always take a shower as soon as I can. Other products offer less protection, but smell better. I used to douse myself with Avon Skin so Soft with every bath.

What makes the bites itch so much anyhow? It seems when mosquitoes are relieving you of blood, their saliva causes histamine that creates an intense allergic reaction. I read that you can use nose spray to help relieve the itch. It is anti-histamine. Get it? I have tried almost everything in desperation: oatmeal, honey, vinegar, Vick’s salve, but I mostly use an itch eraser developed especially for insect bites. It is about as no-good as anything else.  The only real protection seems to be to stay inside, especially at dusk which is mosquito dinner time.

Pesky bugs seem to be a fact of life. My friend who is an entomologist says she is often asked why mosquitoes exist, as well as other insects that are considered pests by humans. Her reply is that insects do not exist only for humans’ convenience or purpose, but have the right to existence for their own self just as we do. That requires some really deep thinking, doesn’t it? I can agree with this philosophically — but, sorry, I still hate mosquitoes.

Copyright 2023 Sheila Moss

Posted in Creatures, Humor | Tagged , , , , | 10 Comments

When it rains it pours

Posted on August 4, 2023 by Sheila Moss

You have probably heard the old idiom “When it rains it pours.” meaning when something bad happens, other bad things usually happen at the same time. Well, this idiom has been stalking me for several months. It can’t possibly be mere coincidence. It has to be something more: Murphy’s Law, a slump, a streak of bad luck, a curse, an evil spell, or something. I don’t really believe in such things, but you tell me after you hear all the bad news.

Where shall we start? Perhaps with my cat who had been sick for a year? I got the bad news from the vet that there was nothing else that could be done medically. Any pet owner knows how traumatic such news is after loving her for 17 years. She lasted for a while longer, but eventually passed away.

Then there was the invasion of ants in the kitchen. That’s only a minor problem, you say. Of course it is. I simply did not feel like dealing with it. A few ant hotels and a can of insect spray took care of it. I asked my son to help since he was fixing the leak under the kitchen sink anyhow.

I tried to forget my troubles to relax and watch TV, but it was not to be. Honey was coughing. Trying to be helpful, I offered some of my cough drops but leaned forward too far. My heavy rocker flipped over and I hit the floor, landing on my shoulder. That resulted in a call to 911 and trip to the ER for a broken shoulder. (Oh, yes.)

Since my arm was in a sling and I couldn’t do much, the dishwasher decided it was a perfect time to quit working. At first I was going to get it repaired, but after hearing the cost, I decided that I might as well replace it. Being in no shape to shop, I ordered one online. The dishwasher was fine, the installation not so much. They worked and worked and I prayed and prayed. Finally, they got it installed. Had I known, I would have repaired the old one regardless of the cost.

The rain had only started. There is more — much more. My son was going to move my car. I can’t remember why. I only remember that it would not start. We tried jumper cables with no luck. Finally, I called AAA to tow it. The way my luck was going, the cost to repair it was more that the car was worth. I ended up selling it.

Let me see what else. There was the broken tooth. Naturally my dentist picked that particular week to retire after 45 years. I had to find a new dentist and beg him to take me on an emergency basis. They have more broken teeth from Jolly Ranchers than anything else. If I had known they would put it in my record, I would not have told them about the candy.

Some of this stuff was my own fault, obviously. Some of it was not. Since my shoulder was broken, I hired a cleaning service to clean the house. It seemed like a great idea until one of the maids managed to drop something that broke the bathroom sink. Yes, I’m serious. The entire thing had to be taken out and replaced. Oh well, it’s not as if my nerves were not already shot anyhow.

The rain continued with a string of other unrelated things, a lost cell phone, a septic tank that backed up due to tree roots in the drainage field, and a gynecologist that retired. (There seems to be an epidemic of retirements going around.)

Well, I suppose rain can always pour harder. Just to prove it, my tooth broke again.

Copyright 2023 Sheila Moss

Posted in Humor, Rants | Tagged , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

The Runaway

Posted on July 12, 2023 by Sheila Moss

“They hate me around here,” said Misty the Cat. “I am going to run away from home. They will be sorry for not feeding me Fancy Feast.” It was not long after that that Misty’s human opened the door to look out. As soon as the door was cracked, the cat charged from behind and ran out into the pre-dawn darkness.

“Misty, kitty, kitty, kitty, come back.”

But Misty and had no intention of coming back. “They can kiss my cat paw. Let them try to catch me in the dark.” Miss Furball was free, outside for the first time in her life. She had always wondered what the outside world was like.

“Is that dog walking down the street? He doesn’t look very friendly. Maybe I should find a place to hide. I want to run away, not to be eaten by a vicious animal. These shrubs don’t seem very safe. A big dog could charge right through them.”

“Yikes! Another dog? I didn’t notice any dogs when I was inside looking out the window. Outside is a pretty scary place. I don’t dare cross the street to run away. A car could squash me flat. Maybe I should have thought about this run away thing a little longer.”

Misty was not wearing her collar with the little heart shaped tag. What if she got lost? No one would know where she lived.

When daylight came, the human went outside to look for her. She was probably behind the shrubs somewhere. But walking around and calling “kitty, kitty, kitty” produced no results. She is probably panicked and scared to death.

Several times during the day the human went out to look for the cat. She had never noticed before how many felines there are in the neighborhood. Cats are everywhere. She thought for sure it was Misty under the big maple tree, but when she got close, the look-alike cat darted into the neighbors’ pet door. She saw another cat across the street, but it had grey stripes and was not Misty either.

The human noticed some cats hanging around a small open space under the neighbors’ shed. Did they know something? But if the furball was under there, she was too terrified to come out. The human decided to leave the garage door cracked and maybe Misty would see it and come inside.

Night was falling and Misty had been gone the entire day. Her human was very worried. She should have taken her to the vet for one of those computer chips. Misty is a housecat. She never goes outside – at least until now. It is supposed to be 27 degrees tonight. She could freeze to death. Maybe the human could put up some lost cat posters around the neighborhood.

Misty was cold and shivering and had not had anything to eat all day. She had tried to catch a bird, but it scolded her and flew away. This pampered pussy cat preferred food that did not fight back.

The human was outside with a flashlight looking for her again in the dark, so the kitty strolled casually from her hiding place and stood at the corner of the fence where the human could see her.

“Misty!”

But before the human could catch her, she disappeared into the garage, coming home on her own terms.

“Adventure is not all it is cracked up to be,” Misty thought, as she licked herself to remove the dirt and smell of the outdoors. Misty ate supper and curled up in her happy place on the sofa for a nap. From now on she was going to stay inside and watch Animal Planet on TV.

She will have to figure out another way to get Fancy Feast.

Copyright 2014 Sheila Moss

Posted in Creatures, Humor | Tagged , , , , , , | 4 Comments

I Know a Shortcut

Posted on July 1, 2023 by Sheila Moss

It has sometimes been said that men get lost because they refuse to stop and ask for directions. However, the GPS and directions from a cell phone have now made it possible for men to avoid the embarrassment of asking and made it possible to find a destination without getting lost.

Now if we could only find a gadget to get men to not take shortcuts. Regardless of where you want to go, if a man is driving, he will always know a shortcut. My dad used to drive me crazy with his shortcuts on back roads through bad areas. I never felt the small amount of gas or time saved was worth the risk. But try to convince any man that following the normal and expected route to anywhere is the best way to get there.

When I would go to visit my parents as an adult, dad always tried to help me get back home quicker by suggesting a short cut that he knew about. I learned to listen to his suggestions and then go my own way, which was usually far easier and I didn’t end up with getting lost.

I thought for a long time that this was only something my dad did, but I’ve found out that my honey is the same way. Who could believe that more than one person would be inclined to take ridiculous short cuts that take longer and are probably further in the long run.

When I want to go to the pharmacy and Morris is driving, I can be certain that the drive will involve a trip through the parking lot and behind the Publix supermarket. “Why are we going this way instead of using the road?” I ask, as if I didn’t know. “This way is shorter and I don’t have to wait for the red light,” he says, as if one red light is not better than a trip though the loading docks and trash bins of a shopping center.

In my opinion, you never save time by cutting through a parking lot. Morris is of a different opinion. He goes out of his way to take short cuts, such as cutting through the parking lot of Walmart to get to Fazoli’s instead of just staying on the road. “I don’t have to make a left turn if I go this way,” he says.

I suppose making a left turn could be considered dangerous when there is no light, but cutting through a parking lot seems more dangerous to me as there is always the possibility someone will back out while you are cutting behind them, and you have to slow down for pedestrians with shopping carts too.

I think the short cut that irritates me the most is encountered when we are taking one of the pets to the veterinarian. Instead of continuing on the main road to the light and turning right, he turns right at the school, and left and right and left again to cut through a subdivision. With the numerous stop signs and turns, it could not possibly be shorter, much less faster.

When I drive, he tries to tell me how to go. “You should turn here,” he says, pointing to some obscure side road. “You go your way when you drive, and I will go mine when I’m driving,” is my reply.

I think that all the years of absurd short cuts is starting to wear me down. Could it be that women will become as bad as men? One day I was taking my daughter to the doctor. “I know where it is,” she said. “We can use my cell phone. The GPS says to go to Exit 72B.”

“I’m not going all the way to Exit 72,” I replied. “We can go the back way taking 840 — I know a short cut.”

Copyright 2014 Sheila Moss

Posted in Automotive, Humor, Travel | Tagged , , , , , , | 6 Comments

Helpful Service at the Hardware Store

Posted on June 17, 2023 by Sheila Moss

The other day I went to Home Depot and several associates actually asked me if I needed help. In the past I have suspected them of avoiding customers because they don’t know where anything is either. Maybe they are trying to improve customer service?

I really wish retailers would have a map for those big box stores like they do at the mall. It would greatly simplify shopping. The place is as big as New York City and what I am looking for is usually about the size of a screw, exactly the size of a screw, in fact.

Remember when you could go to a hardware store and buy only what you needed? Now you have a buy a package to get one or two. Of course, you can save the extras for next time, if there is a next time, and if you can find the leftover package next time. I always end up buying another pack as it is easier. I could start a hardware store of my own with leftovers.

But to get back to the reason I was there, I needed four brass cabinet knobs and two key-type knobs. I had already checked online and found exactly what I wanted, but when I got to the store, it was not in stock.

“You can order it online,” said the helpful sales person, as if I didn’t know. I was trying to avoid the wait and the shipping charges. However, if you have stuff delivered to the store, there is no shipping charge.

I went home and placed my order. The two key knobs came immediately, but the other four didn’t. I waited and waited; a week went by; 10 days went by. Just my luck, they lost the order, I thought; but that very day I received an email that my order had arrived.

I went to the store to pick it up. They couldn’t find the package. The clerk looked everywhere and finally called the manager. I was tired of waiting and needed some cabinet latches too, so I told the clerk I would shop while they were looking.

“Where are cabinet latches?” “Aisle 16.” I couldn’t find Aisle 16, much less a cabinet latch. I asked someone who was putting up stock.

“I don’t know,” he said. ( I knew it.) Well, at least he was honest.

“Me either,” I replied.

I wandered around for a while until someone pointed me in the right direction. I finally found what I was looking for and then went back to see if my knobs had been found. “I’m sorry, we can’t find the order,” the manager told me. “However, I will reorder.” She must have noted my twitching eyebrows and purple face. “I will have it sent express mail, she added, and I will not charge you anything.”

I had been there so long that I was running late for a dental appointment, so I went through the self-check with my magnetic latches, and wheeled out of the parking lot. Halfway home, my cell phone rang. It was the manager at Home Depot. “We found your order,” she said.

“Sorry, I can’t come back now.” I was getting ready to say I would come back later, but she surprised me by saying that she would bring the order to my home. Imagine that! Well, why not let her, I thought. “Okay, that will be great!”

When I got home from the dentist, the bag was hanging on the door. I really couldn’t believe it, but it actually happened, free cabinet knobs and free home delivery. So, I might start shopping there more often

I would still like to have that map, though, and one of those scooters like Wal-Mart has as long as I’m wishing.

Copyright 2014 Sheila Moss

Posted in Humor, Shopping | Tagged , , , , , | 3 Comments

If I Had More Time

Posted on June 10, 2023 by Sheila Moss

If I had more time, I could chase dust bunnies under the bed and polish furniture until it shines. I would not have to hope no one comes by to visit because the floors are dirty, and I can’t remember the last time the windows were cleaned.

I could dump out dresser drawers and rearrange them.  I could clean the closet and find all the things I’ve not worn because I forgot I had them. Life must be too busy when you daydream of cleaning house.

I could study seed catalogs, plant bulbs in the fall and flowers in the spring. I would have time to grow roses, which need a lot of attention — attention I don’t have time for now.

I could prowl through sale racks to look for good clothes at low prices. I would have time to shop around. I could go to the thrift store for bargains on the first day of the month when everything is half price, if I had time.

I could paint that spot on the ceiling where water leaked in. I could hire a handyman to fix the closet doors that stick — if only I had time.

I could tackle the attic that is such a disaster now that I can’t even think about it. I could have a monstrous garage sale and get rid of all the things I don’t want that are too good to throw away but not good enough to keep.

I could get rid of all the junk in the garage and park the car without having to hold my breath hoping it will fit in one more time.

I could do crafts, paint pictures, make jewelry, do cross stitch, read that stack of books that I never have time to read. I could spend as much time as I want writing without having to hurry.

I could spend time on the computer. I could hang out on Facebook and Twitter, waste time online without feeling guilty. I could build websites, surf or blog all day long if I felt like it and if I had time.

I could stay up late and watch TV. If I am tired the next day, I could take a nap instead of drinking more coffee and pushing myself to go on because I have no time.

I could go to events, take short trips to nearby places, eat at interesting restaurants, plan and take vacations to exotic locations. There are so many places to see and I never see them because I don’t have any frequent flyer miles, and I don’t have time.

I could cook healthy meals instead of eating fast food. I could eat fewer hamburgers and hot dogs, and less hamburger helper. I could dine on roast beef, grilled steak, baked chicken and fresh vegetables. I could dust off my recipe books and try something new. I could make casseroles.

I could have quality time instead of being stressed and complaining because no one helps me with the chores. I could go out to the movies, go on vacations and enjoy good company, instead of fighting rush hour traffic on the Interstate every day.

I could spend time with my family, laugh, and watch TV. I could spend time with my grandchildren and give more hugs. I could have a home life instead of having constantly changing roles.

I could have time to do nothing, to ponder, to daydream, to enjoy memories, to watch the sunset, to relax and unwind.

I could live life instead of watching it rush by — if I had only had more time.


Copyright 2014 Sheila Moss

Posted in Humor, Rants | Tagged , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Nekkid and Afeared – Senior Citizen Version

Posted on May 31, 2023 by Sheila Moss

If you have watched the Discovery Channel on cable TV, you may have seen a show called “Naked and Afraid.” On the show people are dropped off in a remote place and left for three weeks with virtually nothing except a knife and a firestarter, or a few other survival items The program is how they adapt and whether they are able to survive.

Day One – Time to take off clothes. Don’t look, Edith! Nobody wants to see that many sags and wrinkles. What is in the burlap bags? Grandpa has an ax. Grandma has a cooking pot.

Day Two – Build a shelter from brush and leaves. Are they kidding? Old folks were chopping wood before they were born. Get out of the way and watch the chips fly.

Day Three – Getting thirsty, needing water after all the wood chopping. Grandma uses dowser rod and hunts for a place to dig a well.

Day Four – Need fire. Grandpa rubs two sticks together while Grandma gathers kindling. A toasty bonfire in no time. What’s so difficult about this?

Day Five – The bugs and skeeters are biting in places we can’t mention. Grandpa makes a poultice of wild tobacco to put on the bug bites and take away the itching.

Day Six – Grandma cooks up a mess of poke sallet to go with the possum Grandpa knocked out of a tree. He’s been throwing rocks since childhood and is a pretty good aim.

Day Seven– Raining outside so have to stay in shelter. To pass the time Grandpa makes a sling shot with a stick and possum gut.

Day Eight – Still raining. Grandma weaves baskets. Grandpa whittles to pass the time. He doesn’t make anything, he just whittles.

Day Nine – Sunny at last. Grandpa shoots some birds with his sling shot and Grandma roasts them over the fire. Tastes just like chicken.

Day Ten – Scouting around, Grandma finds a wild persimmon tree and Grandpa spots a bee tree.

Day Eleven – Grandpa smokes bees out of tree and gathers honey in Grandma’s pot.

Day Twelve – Grandma and Grandma improve shelter with a rock and clay chimney and stuff clay in cracks. This should keep the shelter warmer and make cooking easier.

Day Thirteen – Grandpa doesn’t feel so good. Grandma boils some roots and makes sassafrass tea to cure his stomach problem.

Day Fourteen – Grandpa decides to go fishing. He digs worms for bait and chops down cane for a fishing pole.

Day Fifteen – Grandma roasts the fish on a splint in the fire and serves with some of the wild fruit she picked. Delicious feast!

Day Sixteen – Grandma gathers wild herbs and mushrooms for her medicine bag, in case of any further ailments.

Day Seventeen – Grandpa checks his traps and brings home the squirrels that he caught. Grandma skins and boils up a pot of squirrel stew and cattail root.

Day Eighteen – Grandpa chops wood to make a raft, which they will need to travel down the creek to their extraction point on Day 21. Grandma helps him tie the raft together with vines.

Day Nineteen – Grandpa goes hunting and kills a rabbit with his slingshot. They make stew and eat a final meal to keep up their strength before leaving.

Day Twenty – Tomorrow they will leave the wilderness. They sing folk songs around the campfire and are thankful they have come this far.

Day Twenty-One – The raft holds up pretty well in the creek. They use the long poles Grandpa chopped to guide it away from snags and floating debris.

The adventure is over. Grandma and Grandpa survived the way their ancestors always have and achieved a survival rating of 10.0.

The hardest part was keeping their private parts blurred out and hidden from the TV camera.  Next time, they will use fig leaves.

Copyright 2014 Sheila Moss

Posted in Entertainment, Environment, Humor, Southern Humor | Tagged , , , , , | 2 Comments

ABC’s and D’s of Medicare

Posted on May 22, 2023 by Sheila Moss

Retirement is supposed to be a big adjustment in life. So far, the worse part has been losing my employee insurance and trying to figure out and get Medicare started. I think I have finally conquered the beast, but not without a few bruises and lumps.

“What now?” I thought. seeing that I had I received a letter from Social Security in the mail. Usually when I hear from them it is because they have made an error and either gave me too much money and I have to pay it back, or not enough money, and they have to pay me back. You would think with all the computers the government has, they could do better.

This time, however, they were only writing to tell me my Medicare Part B was in effect and they would be deducting it from my check. Yes, I knew that when I signed up. Besides, I had already received a new Medicare card in the mail, pretty much a dead giveaway.

They also wanted to tell me I was eligible to sign up for Medicare Part D. Medicare has more letters of the alphabet than a first-grade classroom. I already knew about Medicare Part D, which is a good thing. If I waited for Social Security to tell me about it, I would not have any prescription coverage at all.

Picking a Part D provider is like playing the lottery. You pick what seems like the best set of numbers and take your changes. Firstly, Part D is not available from the government. Part D has to be purchased from a private provider, similar to Part C. It may include A, B, D, Medigap and a free puppy. Okay, I was kidding about the puppy, but they would probably figure a way to do it if it would make you sign up with them.

When someone first becomes eligible for Medicare, the mailbox is stuffed every day with insurance company mail trying to entice them to join their plan instead of taking “plain old Medicare.” I decided plain old Medicare was just fine. I have no basis for comparison until I see what regular Medicare pays.

After studying the website to sign up, I was more confused than ever. Some companies had high premiums, some had a high deductable, and some had both. I liked the one with no deductable and a low premium. It made me wonder what was wrong with it; however, I decided to take my chances and give it a whirl. If I don’t like it, I can change during open season. Of course, that is sort of like getting married with the idea of getting a divorce later.

I’ve learned a lot of new vocabulary words figuring out Medicare. Before I could sign up, I had to be sure my old insurance was “credible” insurance. Credible means they pay as much as Medicare, or 80%. Another of the favorite words for Medicare D providers is “formulary.” That means a list of the drugs they will cover. Why can’t they use plain English and quit using five-dollar words that no one outside of the insurance industry ever heard of?

Meanwhile, I got a letter back from the Medicare D provider I had chosen saying I would have to pay a penalty as long as I have Medicare for signing up late and not having insurance for a period of 63 days. What? I signed up late because I retired late and have a special enrollment period. I not only had prescription coverage, I had it with the same company. I guess they do not speak to each other there.

After returning the form they sent and a copy of my insurance card, they called me. I missed the call so they left a message to call them. I couldn’t imagine what more they wanted. As it turned out, they just wanted to say I would not have to pay a penalty. I’m glad they figured that out.

Now I know why everyone gets so frustrated with Medicare. Guess I win this round. I will bandage my wounds and wait to see what’s next in the healthcare battle.

Copyright 2014 Sheila Moss

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