Coffee Powr
I’m a retired military veteran and over sixty-five years old. That combo means my health insurance is through a hybrid product that requires me to sign up for Medicare A & B when I turned 65. Mediacare provides primary coverage to me and my wife; TriCare for Life (TFL, officially known on the web as TriCare4Life) gives us secondary coverage. It’s not a bad deal. It isn’t free; my wife and I both pay for Part B.
What made my coffee taste more bitter than usual was a bill from my provider received this month. They said I owed them over a hundred dollars for lab work and that TFL hadn’t paid anything. Egged on by my other, that sent me into a tizzy of indignation. A website I found said, yep, TFL doesn’t pay for preventive lab work. This made no friggin’ sense and only urged me to greater outrage.
I logged into the various systems this week to find answers. Not finding satisfaction there, I was forced to *gag* call them and speak to people. I have nothing against people or talking but I dislike phones and bureaucracies. Girding myself with a mug of stout dark goodness, I called T4L. After providing evidence of who I am and waiting a few minutes, I was connected to Derek.
I explained it all to him and proved who I am to him. Derek began ferreting through the systems for more about my grievance. I logged into my provider portal and dug out more details. Shame on me, but only then did I realize that this bill was for services from May of 2022. That just seemed wild that I’m dealing with that over eighteen months later.
Derek looked into it and discovered that T4L didn’t pay it because Asante, who did the work, didn’t send an EOB for the Medicare part that was paid. “Have more coffee and call the provider,” Derek advised.
Thanking him for his assistance and wishing him a good day and Merry New Year, I did so. After providing evidence about who I am and a short wait, Karen heard my tale. “Interesting,” she said. “We show that T4L denied the claim.”
What?
She went on to tell me it’d been rejected three times and that’s why they were now billing me. “Let me contact the insurance section and confirm they sent the needed EOB,” she went on. “I’m going to email them now.” She typed away while I listened to keyboard clickety-clack. “There,” she said. “Now we’ll see what happens. Your bill is due next week but ignore that. If you get another bill or notice asking for payment, give us a call to check on the status, okay?”
Sure. I thanked Karen, wished her good day and Happy New Year, hung up and wrote up my notes. Now I wait, but I feel optimistic about the outcome. The whole thing only took one hour.
I couldn’t have done it without coffee, though.
Flooftective
Flooftective (floofinition) – 1. An animal who enjoys investigating things and resolving mysteries. Origins: first noted in Europe in 1732.
In Use: “Tobias the cat and Josh the dog were both flooftectives, so any household activity drew the pair in to determine what was going on, whether any food was involved, and how they might benefit.
Recent Use: “Monica the dog became an Internet hero when she used her flooftective skills to find a hapless kitten and then encourage the poor flooflet to follow her home.
2. Actions taken to keep or make animals safe. Origins: Public use was originally found in newspaper articles circa 1849.
In Use: “Learning of a cougar prowling the neighborhood, people took the flooftective measures of bringing in their pets and closing pet doors.”
Recent Use: “A newer development to add flooftective elements to a house is catios, often made by adding small cages or kennels to a patio which cats can access directly from the house.”
3. A person who undertakes solving a mystery which involves an animal. Origins: first use was in the early twenty-first century on the world wide web.
In Use: “Determining how dinosaurs died when fossils are found often require people to be flooftectives and examine the evidence for clues.”
Recent Use: “Coming home to find much of the house destroyed, Connie became a flooftective to learn which of the cats and dogs had turned over the plants, tore up pillows, and spread toilet paper in the bathroom and down the hall. All suspects presented innocent visages, so the task was challenging until some paw prints were found.”
Thursday’s Wandering Thoughts
Man, are we saps at my house. What else can we be called?
A central vac system is built into our place. Using three hose outets and one thirty-foot hose, we can plug that dude in and quietly vacuum. Yeah, it’s quiet in the house, but in the garage where the motor unit and canister are mounted on a wall, it’s a fiercely loud noise.
Anyway, it has it pros and cons. Last week, we got it out and vacuumed. The hose ended up haphazardly coiled in the dining room by the table. When I went to put it away, I found one of our floofs, Tucker, blissfully asleep in the coils, his head resting on one. Oh, let him sleep, I told myself, smiling at the sight. I can put it away later, or tomorrow. It’s called profloofstination.
Tomorrow became two days, then three. Every time I thought, let me go put the hose away, I found Tucker asleep in it.
I never said anything to my wife about it but on day five, she said, “I want to put that hose away, but everytime I go to do it, Tucker is asleep there, and he just looks so sweet and relaxed, I don’t want to disturb him.
It’s now day seven. The hose and cat remain. I reiterate: man, are we saps.
Thurdsay’s Theme Music
Mood: flexible
Thursday, December 28, 2023. Winter remains encamped outside our door, but it’s a skeleton force. Sunshine floods the valley’s narrow eastern edge. Clouds flattened out in thick swatches of blues, grays, and white. We mostly endure some low temperature nights, fog, and rain. Still no snow on the valley floor and little snow on our light brown mountains. The southern firs and pines are spring green. Right now, we’re cresting 49 F on our way to a 54 F high.
2023 is trickling to an end after a reign that’s lasted almost a year. Many are wondering, will 2023 allow a peaceful and traditional year-to-year transfer? Talking heads and keyboard scholars are all talking about what’ll happen if 2023 doesn’t let go of the reins and decides that it’ll remain 2023 and deny 2024 its place. Can there still be an election next year if it’s still 2023, for example? How will the economy be tracked and what will this do to historic records, awards shows, the NFL championship, and other important matters, including copyright dates?
Likewise, we — that’s me and the lint in my pocket — worry about the 2024 POTUS election. What if President Biden loses and decides not to relinquish the office? His decisions might be guided by what’s happening in the courts now with former POTUS Trump. If the judicial branch decides the former POTUS can’t be tried for offenses done while in office even if it has nothing to do with his duties, even if they are illegal, then a new precedent is born for Joe Biden to use to remain in office and contest the results. This will result in Republican claims contrary to their previous claims, because that’s business as usual: one set of standards for others, another for themselves.
Speaking of double standards, what’s going on with that Republican couple in Florida, Christian and Bridget Ziegler? You know them, pushers of moral values, all in for one man-one woman traditional marriages, solid proponents for banning books that contradict their sensibilities, and a strong set against lesbians and homosexuals, except for their own sex life when they enjoy a little female on female action, which they taped. But that’s private, right? Except he’s been accused of rape, and that’s criminal, right?
Since my mind is in Florida, did you see that their high school SAT scores fell again? They’re now ranked 46th in the nation. Sadly, ACT and SAT scores continue on a downward spiral across the nation. I wonder if that’s related to red state (and county) legislatures limiting what children can be taught and read? Just spitballing, ya know?
In the morning mental music stream (Trademark corny), The Neurons have the Indigo Girls singing “Galileo” from 1992. See, I was making the bed and thinking about getting things right, or somewhere in the area code of right. This wasn’t about the bed and was only obliquely about me. No, the mental catalyst was the ongoing relationship problems I watch playing out in a family. The daughters are my age and the matriarch I think is twenty to twenty-five years older. That’d put her in late 80s, early 90s. Yet, they’re experiencing the same relationship merry-go-round they were on twenty years ago. The natural question arrived on my brain’s doorstep, will they ever get it right? The connection to “Galileo” comes from the song’s line, “How long till my soul gets it right?”
Stay positive and be strong, test negative, but lean forward. Easy, right? Coffee helps lube the way for my attempts. Here we go with the video. Cheers
Wednesday’s Theme Music
Mood: squeaky
46 F and light rain now, but Wednesday, December 27, 2023, began with a windy assault that took over all the trash receptacles put out for pick up, and a steady rain thrashing us through the night and morning in Ashlandia, where folks are mostly friendly, and the food tastes almost above average. BTW, 46 F is today’s high.
Tucker didn’t mind the rain, closing his mind and eyes against what was happening outside, and remaining inside, a wise approach to handling it. Papi, though, insisted on trying the outer realm, soaking his fur. “How dare you!” he meowed at the world after beating on the window and returning inside. A brief pause by my side so that I could pet and admire him, and then he was off to the kibble bowl to scarf.
A friend’s holiday letter had this paragraph, and I found it cute, humorous, and even inspiring, so I thought it should be shared. Note: Pam is her daughter and is five years older than me.
“Pam managed to get 95 balloons to come sailing into her dining room while we were having my birthday dinner celebration in October. What a riot that was! She personally blew up 35 of them before she ran out of air and wisely got help! We batted one red balloon around the table exactly 95 times before it hit the floor. Great fun!”
A retired dancer and teacher, she’s a sweet and terrific character and wonderful friend, as is Pam, and Pam’s children. Nice to know such people.
The Neurons dumped “Katmandu” by Bob Seger into the morning mental music stream (Trademark dissolved) as I made the bed this morning. Not a bad song at all, but I have no idea what they were thinking when they began playing the song. However, when I saw the holiday letter again on my office desk and read again the tale about the birthday balloons, I issued a veto override and went with “99 Red Balloons” by Nena from 1984. Hah, take that, Neurons.
Stay pos, test negative, be strong, and lean forward. Coffee levels are being replenished as I type. Here’s the music. Cheers
Viafloofor
Viafloofor (floofinition) – An animal, especially pet, who enjoys traveling or walking around by themselves. Origins: ancient Rome
In Use: “Charlie, a chunky ginger boi, was a regular viafloofor, walking the sidewalks and visiting homes and businesses as though he followed a schedule, which was useful for being served pets and treats.”
In Use: “Bear was never much of a viafloofor, preferring his bed or a comfortable warm spot of sun-kissed lawn in the backyard, to walking around, unless it was to greet his people or make an acquaintance with something to eat.”
Recent Use: “OMwazeng on YouTube has a video of a cat named Dodger, a viafloofor who takes the bus every day.”
Tuesday’s Wandering Thought
Got a question for y’all: what is this ‘X’ thing I keep seeing? Anyone know?
Also, whatever happened to ‘Twitter’?
Yes, some holiday snark because everyone in the media keeps adding, “X, formerly Twitter.” Like we haven’t gotten it by now. I guess they’re still trying to cope with the change and put it up to remind themselves.
And yes, I did post about X and Twitter before in a similar vein. And no, I’m not obsessed with it. Not officially. Not yet.
Christmas’s Theme Music
Mood: holidayish
Happy holidays and merry Christmas, world. It’s Monday, December 25, 2023 in Ashlandia, where the weather doesn’t resemble winter today. 51 F with strong winds kicking the trees around and fog keeping the sun socked in makes it less than merry out there. It disappoints the cats who are like, “This isn’t what we ordered. We ordered sunshine and warm weather. Turn off the winds or someone will pay.”
Been exchanging texts with family today. Mom has some potential DVT issues. Her doctor wanted her in for tests today but she rejected that, heading to her daughter’s house to celebrate the day and eat. Almost veryone gravitated toward little sister number two’s house for a holiday meal. It was a small spread.
She and my other sisters take after Mom and are good cooks. Dessert is off in another area.
COVID is rising, judging anecdotally. Another friend reported positive, with sneezing, coughing, body aches, and a fever. He’s the fifth in our circle in the last three weeks. A sister and her hubby are down with COVID back in the home zone, and it’s reported to be bad. Hope they all fully recovered.
Today’s holiday music comes by way of my spouse. She heard Duke Ellington and His Orchestra doing a jazz interpretation of The Nutcracker Suite. Here they are with “Sugar Rum Cherry (Dance of the Sugar-Plum Fairy)”.
Stay pos, move forward, be strong, and test negative. Wishing you all the best for the rest of this year and many more years to come. Off we go, coffee in hand, ho, ho, ho.
Here’s the music. Cheers
Floogi
Floogi (floofinition) – An especially mystical or reflective animal. Origins: Floofskrit. First known use, 1613.
In Use: “Sienna had owned many cats and dogs, and often thought most of the cats had mystical qualities, but Samuel Jackson was the first dog she had who seemed like a floogi.”
In Use: “Jade often set up in a serene and watchful pose, her emerald eyes partially closed, a floogi contemplating existence.”
Recent Use: “Felines’ propensity to often seem like floogis has given rise on the net to posts with cats looking serene while saying something counter to the moment, such as, ‘I may look sweet but forget to feed me on time and my mittens of death will tear you a new one.'”
Michael Seidel, writer 