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An open letter from Heidi to the internet
Dear Internet,
Wow this is difficult. I’m not sure where to begin…
I know you’ve noticed a change in our relationship over the past months. Where once I spent much of my leisure time with you: blogging, reading other blogs, laughing together about the stupid things people post on you-tube, now I have been choosing other pursuits.
I know my behavior has become unpredictable where our relationship is concerned. One day I spend hours, eyes glazed, just staring at you. The next, I delete every single blog from my reader. (All 143, if you were keeping track.)
I’m sure you have felt us growing apart and have been expecting the moment when I issue this parting blow. There is no other way to say this: Internet, I still love you, but I think we should see other people.
Or at least I should.
Am.
This is not really a break-up. Maybe we could be like Ross and Rachel and just be “on a break.” Occasionally, we may catch up over something I just have to blog. And, well… I don’t mean to be presumptuous, but I am sure we will still have the occasional afternoon fling. You know, when no one else is home and my books or laundry are not commanding my attention.
And we’ll always have google. I’m not sure I can live without google.
But I have moved on.
With love and loathing,
Heidi
Happy Father’s Day
And my dad could beat up your dad, too.
I posted the My Mom’s Funnier Than Your Mom series a couple of Mother’s Days ago, but some of you are new around here and might not have heard. It’s true though, and if you click the link you’ll find out why.
If you don’t, you’ll never know why she asked her dentist if she still had gonorrhea, or why she told everyone at a family reunion about seeing her neighbor’s prostate scar.
Go on, click it.
Just put down that drink first. I won’t accept responsibility for beverages spewed all over your screen.
And neither will my mom.
Do you know Nie?
If not, you should:
Find her here.
Potluck – It’s what’s for Dinner
Do you all know Holly? Her Monday potlucks are pure blogging genius.
But guess what internetz:
That’s right, *y’all, Heidi is jumping in on the Potluck action.
*Can an Oregonian pull off a y’all online? Please?
Let’s begin with a couple of definitions:
Potluck – Whatever food happens to be available for a meal, especially when offered to a guest
Potluck – random, unorganized thoughts smashed together into one post and branded as a potluck
How about some background music?
I-I-I wanna rock-n-roll all niiii-iii-iight
and potluck ev-er-eee day…
No?
How about this?
We will, we will, Potluck – Potluck
everybody
We will, we will, Potluck – Potluck
Hmm… maybe we’ll just go without music this time, eh?
And now it’s time for a little story:
On Friday, Newt and I had plans to spend the day at Oregon’s Museum of Science and Industry with some friends. She packed our lunch – peanut butter for her, “surprise” for me. Several times throughout the morning she asked if I was excited for my lunch. When it came time to eat, I learned that “surprise” was a turkey and provolone sandwich with mayo and dijon on whole wheat. Sounds great, doesn’t it?
Except… I had my doubts about the turkey. It had been in the fridge for a long time.
When confronted with the choice of eating questionable turkey or disappointing Newt, I chose to disappoint her. It was only a sandwich, right? She’d understand.
But then I looked at her expectant face, waiting for me to take a bite.
That is how I came to spend all of Friday evening throwing up.
The end.
To the reader who found me, just today, by googling “simple Christmas letter to copy”, I say, “You have almost eight months, I think you can come up with something original.”
To both of you who googled “Heidi is not real” “I can see why you might be confused
but, I really am real.”
See:
Who would fake that?
How about something new:
I wore my pajamas all day today.
And now for another potluck slogan: Potluck melts in your mouth, not in your hands.
What’s up with Heidi’s laundry?
Baskets full, but not overflowing. One load in the dryer. Nothing else to fold or put away.
May all your potlucks be microbe free.
FYI
Yesterday’s post was brought to you by the letters P, M and S.
Thank you, that is all.
Remind me, please, why I pay for insurance?
Oregon is beautiful. The tulips are blooming. Blah. Blah. Blah.
What I really want to rant about are the three phone calls I made today. Warning, they are extremely frustrating. Feel free to skip over the text and just look at the pretty pictures.
Call #1
Heidi: Hi, this is Heidi. I got a rock chip in my windshield this weekend and it has turned into a huge crack. I just wanted to verify my deductible for glass breakage.
Insurance Lady: I can check on that for you. Hmmm… yes, I see it here. Your deductible is $500.
Heidi: $500? For glass breakage? Not $100?
Insurance Lady: Yes ma’am.
Heidi: Really?
Insurance Lady: Uh-huh. Is there anything else I can do for you today?
Heidi: No. Thank you.
Insurance Lady: You have a nice day now.
Heidi: Ok.
Goodbye $280 for a new windshield.
Call #2
Heidi: I just wanted to see if Newt’s prescription is ready.
Pharmacy Lady: Let me check. Yes, it’s ready.
Heidi: Can you tell me how much that will be?
Pharmacy Lady: Looks like it will be $400.
Heidi: !
Pharmacy Lady: Wait – you had a coupon from the dermatologist. It will be…$375.
Heidi: For eczema ointment? Wow.
Pharmacy Lady: Oh, I’m sorry. It looks like this was not run through your insurance correctly. Do you mind holding?
Heidi: [relief] No. Not at all.
…
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Pharmacy Lady: Thank you for holding. I ran that through your insurance. And then I took off the $25 for your coupon.
Heidi: Great. How much do I owe?
Pharmacy Lady: $340.
Heidi: Um, nevermind.
Heidi is calling the dermatologist back for an alternate prescription. Tomorrow.
Call #3
BlueCross Man: BlueCross of Maryland. How can I help you?
Heidi: Hi. I just got a bill from a doctor. Services were rendered three years ago. Why it took him that long to send it, I’ll never understand, but I digress. It appears that this was never billed to our insurance – though the doctor insists – emphatically! – that it was. He may have also accused me of looking for “charity” when I asked him to verify that the bill was submitted to you for payment, but that is not your concern is it?
Anyway, we are no longer insured by you, but could you look this up for me anyway?
BlueCross Man: Sure. What is your ID number?
Heidi: No idea. This was from three years ago, and I have also moved 3000 miles in that time. The ID card is long gone. Can I give you my Social Security number?
BlueCross Man: Sure. … That didn’t work. How about your husband’s? … Nothing. Old address? … Husband’s employer at the time? … You no longer seem to be in our system. Unless you can come up with an ID number, I’m afraid we can’t help you. Here’s an idea. Maybe you could call the Provider and ask him to look up the ID number on your chart. I’m sure he’d be happy to help.
Heidi: Sigh.
Heidi has decided not to make any more phone calls. Ever.
Ooh, look. Pretty.
Playmates on Paper
When I was a little girl, I had a rather unusual friend and playmate.
Dawn Riley was an older lady, never married. Sometimes I would hear my parents refer to her as a spinster. I always called her Dawn Riley, never Miss Riley, and certainly not Dawn. She lived with her elderly mother, her aunt (another spinster), and several mean cats. Dawn Riley had touch-me-not doilies on the furniture and wore the brightest lipstick I’d ever seen. I remember thinking that she was rather fussy about a lot of things.
But Dawn Riley was my friend.
Why? I can name two reasons:
She was never too busy to play with me and we both liked paperdolls.
I could often be seen carrying a shoebox full of dolls and their clothes to her house on the next block. We spent hours cutting out fashions and dressing up our little paper ladies.
I’ve been thinking about Dawn Riley lately. My girl, Newt, has begun to outgrow and give away many of her toys: Barbies, Polly Pockets, Littlest Pet Shops… I view this mass toy exodus with mixed emotions. On one hand, I’m thrilled. I really don’t enjoy playing with those things, but as an only child, I’m usually all she’s got. On the other hand, my girl is growing up so fast. She’s no longer a little girl, but not quite a young woman. How did that happen so fast? It seems like just last week, she still had all her baby-teeth…
A few weeks ago, while searching for something else online, I came across this adorable paperdoll.
On a whim, I printed it for Newt and while cutting out, I told her about my girlhood collection. She was intrigued and excited to build a collection of her own.
Since then, we have added many fun dolls to her collection. And every time she asks to play, I remind myself that this might be our last time. The Barbies and Pet Shop Pets are gone; paperdolls won’t last forever.
So, I’m trying to make sure that I am never too busy to play. I think Dawn Riley would be proud.
A Recent Afternoon’s Conversation in the Car
Newt: [pensively] Do you ever think it’s weird that strangers read your blog?
Me: I used to, but I don’t anymore.
Newt: But why would they care about our family?
Me: I don’t know. I guess they read it because they think I’m a good writer.
Newt: [derisive laughter]
Me: [indignantly] Did you laugh? [turning to look] Why are you laughing? You’re mean!
Newt: [laughs more and spews Starbucks kids hot cocoa out her nose - then laughs harder]
Me: I am so going to blog about this.
Newt: Touche.
Heidi Will Absolutely, Positively NEVER (Do you hear me? I mean it!) Have a Facebook
I have never been quiet about my aversion to all things Facebook.
I don’t want a Facebook, won’t have a Facebook, because:
- I’ve heard about the farm game.
- I don’t care which Twilight character I am most like.
- I’m not interested in what kind of sandwich you just ate, nor do I believe that you really want to read that about me. (Unless you write it in a blog post, with the recipe. Then I’m all yours.)
- Someone might upload embarrassing photos of me, like these:
- I already spend too much time on my laptop. I am too busy volunteering at homeless shelters.
- If the people in my past were that important to me, they wouldn’t be in my past.
Wait, back up. What was that last one?
- If the people in my past were that important to me, they wouldn’t be in my past.
That used to be true. But recently I find myself losing touch with a couple of long-distance friends. I spend my days homeschooling, and my evenings with my husband. Long phone calls are becoming a rarity. And now that Oregon has passed a Don’t Talk and Drive law, even brief catch-ups in the car are a thing of the past.
It was the Christmas letters that did it. As I read, I realized that I like keeping up with what my friends were doing. I don’t want our only contact to be reduced to once a year.
Is Facebook the best solution? Probably not. The best solution would be to make real time for the people that I care about. But, honestly, no matter how good my intentions, that is just not likely to happen right now. My time is being spent on my laptop family.
So…
[deep breath]
I created a Facebook page.
But I will absolutely, positively NEVER (Do you hear me? I mean it!) Twitter.
Once upon a time there was a Heidi…
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