Fuzzy

Oh boy. You are living in fuzzy puppy land.

-Gilmore Girls

Stories will be told.

Two things of note happened yesterday. They both involve a pretty cool toddler.

I walked into my Mom and Dad's house yesterday and sat down on the floor. My little curly-haired niece came up to me and sat in my lap, facing me. My winter coat has all kinds of zippers and buttons, and said curly-haired child started playing with them.

She said something to me, but I couldn't quite understand her. I asked her what she wanted. I thought she said "Keys."

Oh, I thought. She's looking for my car keys in my coat. I took my keys out of my pocket and gave them to her.

But that's not what she wanted. She repeated her request again.

"Cheese."

My almost 3-year-old curly-haired niece was looking for cheese, and she was looking for cheese in my winter coat.

I'm sorry, child, but I do not keep cheese in my coat.

But maybe I should?

-----

That same day, we were sitting around the kitchen table. The following conversation happened.

Grandma: Curly-haired child, what did you hear outside this morning? You heard it, but you didn't see it. Tell Aunt Monica what you heard.

Curly-haired child stops what she's doing, then gives me that look she gives me when she's thinking hard about something. Her head tilts to one side, and she squints her eyes for a minute.

"Eh," she says, then she thinks some more.

Her answer: "The moon."

At this point, I'm trying really, really hard to keep my composure. My little niece was thinking really hard for the answer to Grandma's question. But she also just told me she heard the moon, which makes me want to literally fall on the floor and laugh until I can't laugh anymore. I kept a straight face and did not laugh, which I'm very proud of myself for.

Grandma: No, you heard something outside. What did you hear?

I decided to throw her a bone and help her out.

Me: A helicopter?

Curly-haired child: Airplane!

Me: Was the airplane going fast or slow?

Curly-haired child: Slow.

Me: Okay.

Curly-haired child is brilliant and beautiful, and obviously takes after her aunt.

The difference between boys and girls.

I went and hung out with my nieces over my lunch break today.

I sat down in a chair at the kitchen table, and one of my little twin nieces crawled into my lap. I wanted a hug and a kiss, but we didn't get that far.

She opened my vest (I had a shirt on underneath) and she pointed to my chest.

"Boobies!"

In theory, I know that you're supposed to teach kids the proper names for body parts. In theory, that works out well.

But today, I was bombarded by "Boobies!" and I was not prepared for it.

I did not have an answer or a response for my little niece. I closed my vest, ignored what she said, then went about with life.

I was not prepared to talk about boobs before lunch.

I failed that aunt test.

Gah.

Graduation.

Rory graduated from high school.

I'm crying.

"I think I may have loved you, but I'm moving on. I hope you're good. I want you to be good. So this is goodbye. That word sounds really stupid right now. But goodbye."

(Gilmore Girls)

Oh, Rory. We've all been there.

On a happier note

Enough with the health concerns and worries about whether one of my organs (gallbladder) needs to be removed or not.

Let's talk about something happy!

I've tried a couple new things this week. I found a cute blog a while back about how one woman basically gave up shopping for a year, and instead went 'shopping' in her own closet.

I tried that this week.

I bought a really cute cross-body purse on Black Friday. Cute, as in, it's tiny. Not only is it tiny, it's TINY.

I used it for a week, then I decided I hated it. It will become a niece toy in the near future.

Instead of going shopping, I went into my closet, which for my purses, is technically a pile in the corner of one of my spare bedrooms.

There's a purse I bought around five years ago. This particular purse, while cute but not the cutest, means a lot to me. I bought it when I was between jobs. I was freelancing and doing odd jobs for money and to keep my mind occupied, and I had a little, teeny tiny bit of extra cash. So, I bought this purse.

I never used it as a cross-body bag before. I played around with the strap, and for absolutely no money I had a new cross-body purse.

Hooray!

I've gotten several compliments on it this week.

That purse has survived several closet purses and donation bags. I don't think I'll ever give it up.

-----

The second thing I've tried it black eye liner. I've always been a brown eye liner kind of a girl, but I decided to step out of the box and try something new.

I didn't like it the first day.

Today, I think it's pretty cool.

:)

Assuming the Best

A quote from Lenny, a delicious newsletter that I get in my inbox, regarding healthcare:

"I’m going to assume the best — that both sides and most everyone in this country can agree that we want is more affordability, quality, and access."

Better at life.

I've been at the pharmacy twice today and the doctor's office three times today.

Here's the problemo: In order to be eligible for a prescription savings program, you have to have insurance. Good thing I have insurance, right? Except, no. In the pharmacy's eyes, I don't have insurance.

God only knows why. Without insurance, my medicine costs more than $1,000 a month.

But I have insurance! Well, the pharmacy doesn't think I have insurance.

Sigh.

Someone from the drug company needs to call the pharmacy and tell them something every single month I try to refill the medicine. Except, I can't call the drug company guy myself. He isn't allowed to know my name because of HIPAA. So, I have to explain this to the doctor's office, who then has to call the drug company guy and get him to call the pharmacy.

I explained this to my doctor's office. The poor assistant just stared at me. I asked her if she understood any of what I said.

She said no.

I told her I didn't understand it, either.

There are three things in life that I am not good at. Those things are giving up, letting go and moving on.

Most of the time, those are very negative personality traits. In this instance, those three traits mean I'm too anal to let this go.

It's entirely possible that this medicine is not going to work out for me. Having a prescription for it doesn't do any good if it's going to cost me $1,000 a month.

But for now, I'm not going to give up. I will babysit whoever I need to babysit, and I will be relentless about it.

I do not have the medicine yet. I also have not laid in bed sobbing about it like I did last month.

I'm getting better at life.

Update: 
Drug company: So your pharmacy wants approval from us for you to have this medicine? That doesn't make any sense.

Me: Yes, I know. Preach it, sista.