So I was listening to a program about words that is on late at night on Sunday on National Public Radio. I love it, but it is on late and you really can't have that show as background noise...you have to listen.
They explained the phrase "O.K.'.
I was telling Bern about the explanation and told her, "you know how people say 'naught' to mean nothing?"
She told me I was the only person she knew who ever said "naught' to mean 'nothing'. I was rather proud of that--being unique and all. I do say 'naught' and will say it more often now.
Any how, back in the 18th century spoken English had an antonym to 'naught' (meaning nothing) that was 'aught' (meaning 'everything'). And a saying came into being to indicated 'everything is alright'. It was "aught correct". However (and here's the rub) spelling wasn't regularized at the time and legitimate and acceptable spellings of 'aught' and 'correct' were 'ought' and 'korrect'.
Get it? "Ought Korrect" become OK.
This is just a corrective (korrective?) to the spelling police. If there hadn't been some give and take about spelling the saying we would have to indicate that all was placid and fine would be "AC", which would cause no end of problems since people would be thinking you were talking about electrical current or air conditioning instead of everything being OK.
OK? or, if you prefer, AC?
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Monday, August 2, 2010
the hysterical district
Five years ago, much against my better judgment, I voted to become part of the Historic District of Cheshire. Then I forgot about it, ignored all meetings of the neighbors, etc.
Sunday, Paul and Allison down the street had a meeting to discuss the problems. One of the neighbors who is unhappy with the whole thing actually works for the Town Council. What I didn't realize is that after the vote--the two churches in the district, 1st Cong and St. Peter's Epis voted no, having some idea of the mischief that could occur--the Town Council passed an ordinance establishing the district and appointing the people who had done the preparation and vote taking to the Commission. That group--some of which didn't live in the district--has simply perpetuated itself for the past 5 years. Now only one member lives in the district and she is the self appointed Historic Police.
The depths of the problems were outrageous to hear about. One guy, who built his own house just before the district (and it is geographic) has had to appear before the commission several times and his house is only 5 years old....People can't get approval to put in those double paned windows that save so much in heating and air conditioning costs unless they have them covered with plastic so they resemble single pane windows in the way they reflect light. First Cong added a porch to one of the houses it owns on the green and it was all approved. Six months later they wanted to add the same porch to another house--same design, builder, materials--and were turned down! It was a hysterical crowd and each story was more ridiculous than the next. Certain kinds of paint are forbidden and Peter, a home builder, said those forbidden were the highest quality. The Historical commission thinks those paints are too thick. Window air conditioners--much to my surprise--are forbidden though we have four!
I suggested we have a sit-down demonstration at the town council--back to the tactics of the 60's, I say. But after over an hour of moaning and complaints, the group decided to begin with a petition to repeal the ordinance establishing the district. Obviously, the people at the meeting were in favor of repeal, but each told of 'others' who would join the effort. This is the kind of thing you can get involved in if you are retired. A chance to stick it to The Man! I'm already thinking of making a placard. Maybe the Tea Party folks who demonstrate in front of Town Hall would join us since 'all government is bad government' in their minds.
On a different note: One of the Proofs of the Existence of God that St. Thomas Aquinas neglected--Hummingbirds....
Sunday, Paul and Allison down the street had a meeting to discuss the problems. One of the neighbors who is unhappy with the whole thing actually works for the Town Council. What I didn't realize is that after the vote--the two churches in the district, 1st Cong and St. Peter's Epis voted no, having some idea of the mischief that could occur--the Town Council passed an ordinance establishing the district and appointing the people who had done the preparation and vote taking to the Commission. That group--some of which didn't live in the district--has simply perpetuated itself for the past 5 years. Now only one member lives in the district and she is the self appointed Historic Police.
The depths of the problems were outrageous to hear about. One guy, who built his own house just before the district (and it is geographic) has had to appear before the commission several times and his house is only 5 years old....People can't get approval to put in those double paned windows that save so much in heating and air conditioning costs unless they have them covered with plastic so they resemble single pane windows in the way they reflect light. First Cong added a porch to one of the houses it owns on the green and it was all approved. Six months later they wanted to add the same porch to another house--same design, builder, materials--and were turned down! It was a hysterical crowd and each story was more ridiculous than the next. Certain kinds of paint are forbidden and Peter, a home builder, said those forbidden were the highest quality. The Historical commission thinks those paints are too thick. Window air conditioners--much to my surprise--are forbidden though we have four!
I suggested we have a sit-down demonstration at the town council--back to the tactics of the 60's, I say. But after over an hour of moaning and complaints, the group decided to begin with a petition to repeal the ordinance establishing the district. Obviously, the people at the meeting were in favor of repeal, but each told of 'others' who would join the effort. This is the kind of thing you can get involved in if you are retired. A chance to stick it to The Man! I'm already thinking of making a placard. Maybe the Tea Party folks who demonstrate in front of Town Hall would join us since 'all government is bad government' in their minds.
On a different note: One of the Proofs of the Existence of God that St. Thomas Aquinas neglected--Hummingbirds....
Sunday, August 1, 2010
next time call me before you do the study....
Ok, tonight, while fixing dinner, I listened to an excited researcher on some medical show on Public Radio explain how his study had ascertained that people who got normal amounts of sleep were more able to perform their jobs than people who had been allowed to sleep only 3 hours a night.
Well, I'm stunned, I don't know about you.
It was like a study I heard about a few years ago that concluded that homeless people had more podiatry problems than the general population. Duh! My father, after 4 years of 'living outside" during WWII came home with a zillion more foot problems that I've ever had, since I've had almost none....
And gosh, isn't it a shocker to know that children who aren't read to and don't grow up with books test lower on reading tests than children who have bedtime books and grow up surrounded by books. Geez, what am I missing here?
Here is the open invitation to all funders of research to call me before paying someone to undertake a costly study to determine if people who take crack cocaine regularly are less likely to be on the Supreme Court than those who don't. I'll take half the grant and tell you what's so....
I'm a PBS junkie, but some of the reports I hear about what people spent money to prove--people who keep their weight down, eat well and exercise regularly live longer, for example--drive me to distraction.
Next time, just call me with you research questions....
Well, I'm stunned, I don't know about you.
It was like a study I heard about a few years ago that concluded that homeless people had more podiatry problems than the general population. Duh! My father, after 4 years of 'living outside" during WWII came home with a zillion more foot problems that I've ever had, since I've had almost none....
And gosh, isn't it a shocker to know that children who aren't read to and don't grow up with books test lower on reading tests than children who have bedtime books and grow up surrounded by books. Geez, what am I missing here?
Here is the open invitation to all funders of research to call me before paying someone to undertake a costly study to determine if people who take crack cocaine regularly are less likely to be on the Supreme Court than those who don't. I'll take half the grant and tell you what's so....
I'm a PBS junkie, but some of the reports I hear about what people spent money to prove--people who keep their weight down, eat well and exercise regularly live longer, for example--drive me to distraction.
Next time, just call me with you research questions....
sometimes the dog eats the couch....
I just read on line that the Jonas brothers visited the White House to sing.
My problem is, I have no idea who the Jonas brothers are. Life is passing me by and leaving me behind in the dust....
Years and years ago, before some of you were born, Bern and I lived in Morgantown WV on the 3rd floor of this great house on a brick street. We were on the 3rd floor and had the attic at our disposal. That's where St. Gabrial's Mission--a house church--met. About 30 people, all under 30 except for Snork, the priest and Mariah who was 82 and just liked young people better than the 3 piece suits and ladies in hats at Trinity Parish.
We met on Wed. nights, up in the attic. If your birthday fell in that week, Snork let you celebrate communion--no kidding. He did what he called the "manual acts" and told us it was fine. We had no idea how against the rules it was. Five of the undergraduates at St. Gabe's went on to be priests, if you can believe it. Snork letting us celebrate is what hooked us.
(I have the sneaking suspicion that I've written about that before--if so, chalk it up to my slipping mind.)
At any rate, the people on the bottom floor had a big black lab names Bysshe, after Percy B. Shelly. Everyone we knew were students and had secondhand furniture. One day Bysshe's owners came home and the dog had eaten the couch. They were just about to kill him when they noticed that underneath the upholstry was a piece of furniture that looked older than they thought. It was an antique and worth $4000. They kept bringing home secondhand furniture hoping Bysshe would do it again, but he never did.
What I was pondering is what if the way God works sometimes is like the dog eating the couch--like something that is initially a problem verging on a disaster 'unconceals' God in the moment.
Or when something that is so outside the lines, at first glance--like Snork letting people celebrate communion--turns out to give the church 5 very good, out-side-the-line coloring priests.
Stuff like that. I guess we can't replicate such events--Bysshe never ate another piece of furniture after all--and if I invited people up to try out celebrating I'd be defrocked by days end because someone would turn me in. (I bet only Mariah knew Snork was breaking about 14 hundred canons, but she wasn't squealing.)
They can't be replicated, but maybe we should keep our eyes wide open all the time in case some metaphorical dog starts eating the couch. Take a deep breath and look for God....
My problem is, I have no idea who the Jonas brothers are. Life is passing me by and leaving me behind in the dust....
Years and years ago, before some of you were born, Bern and I lived in Morgantown WV on the 3rd floor of this great house on a brick street. We were on the 3rd floor and had the attic at our disposal. That's where St. Gabrial's Mission--a house church--met. About 30 people, all under 30 except for Snork, the priest and Mariah who was 82 and just liked young people better than the 3 piece suits and ladies in hats at Trinity Parish.
We met on Wed. nights, up in the attic. If your birthday fell in that week, Snork let you celebrate communion--no kidding. He did what he called the "manual acts" and told us it was fine. We had no idea how against the rules it was. Five of the undergraduates at St. Gabe's went on to be priests, if you can believe it. Snork letting us celebrate is what hooked us.
(I have the sneaking suspicion that I've written about that before--if so, chalk it up to my slipping mind.)
At any rate, the people on the bottom floor had a big black lab names Bysshe, after Percy B. Shelly. Everyone we knew were students and had secondhand furniture. One day Bysshe's owners came home and the dog had eaten the couch. They were just about to kill him when they noticed that underneath the upholstry was a piece of furniture that looked older than they thought. It was an antique and worth $4000. They kept bringing home secondhand furniture hoping Bysshe would do it again, but he never did.
What I was pondering is what if the way God works sometimes is like the dog eating the couch--like something that is initially a problem verging on a disaster 'unconceals' God in the moment.
Or when something that is so outside the lines, at first glance--like Snork letting people celebrate communion--turns out to give the church 5 very good, out-side-the-line coloring priests.
Stuff like that. I guess we can't replicate such events--Bysshe never ate another piece of furniture after all--and if I invited people up to try out celebrating I'd be defrocked by days end because someone would turn me in. (I bet only Mariah knew Snork was breaking about 14 hundred canons, but she wasn't squealing.)
They can't be replicated, but maybe we should keep our eyes wide open all the time in case some metaphorical dog starts eating the couch. Take a deep breath and look for God....
Saturday, July 31, 2010
dumb crooks
I've reached the point that most of the news I hear comes for "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me'.
A woman had an job interview at a store and on her way out she shoplifted some items. When they caught her, the store manager who had just talked with her realized the dress she was wearing was one she shoplifted the day before.
When asked, she said, "I needed something nice for my interview."
She didn't get the job.
I just counted 9 butterflies on the butterfly bush in our back yard. It is truly remarkable, our back yard.
I'm going to St. John's, Bristol tomorrow and next Sunday. Their former rector was one of the priests who left the church a few years ago. Maybe this is my supply priest niche--going to churches who used to have ultra-conservative Rectors. Go figure.
I've been writing daily on the ms. called "Farther along" about my experiences as a parish priest. I'd love to share some of it on the blog but I don't know how. Anyone out there know how to do that? (I just the other day realized I could print out stuff from castor oil tree.)Email and tell me if it is possible to put a word document on a blog. Otherwise, send a stamped, self-addressed manila envelope with a note on a $50 bill and I'll send you a hard copy of some of it....
A woman had an job interview at a store and on her way out she shoplifted some items. When they caught her, the store manager who had just talked with her realized the dress she was wearing was one she shoplifted the day before.
When asked, she said, "I needed something nice for my interview."
She didn't get the job.
I just counted 9 butterflies on the butterfly bush in our back yard. It is truly remarkable, our back yard.
I'm going to St. John's, Bristol tomorrow and next Sunday. Their former rector was one of the priests who left the church a few years ago. Maybe this is my supply priest niche--going to churches who used to have ultra-conservative Rectors. Go figure.
I've been writing daily on the ms. called "Farther along" about my experiences as a parish priest. I'd love to share some of it on the blog but I don't know how. Anyone out there know how to do that? (I just the other day realized I could print out stuff from castor oil tree.)Email and tell me if it is possible to put a word document on a blog. Otherwise, send a stamped, self-addressed manila envelope with a note on a $50 bill and I'll send you a hard copy of some of it....
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
stuff I'm doing
I noted I haven't written here for a week. I've been writing other things. I've spent 4-5 hours each day writing about my years as a parish priest. It is part of a manuscript called 'Farther Along'. I also sent a synopsis of my novel to an agent--fascinatingly enough, she is the person who read the very first draft of 'the Igloo Factory' over 30 years ago. I was researching agents and there she was, with her own agency now. I remembered her name but not the agency she worked for back then. So I sent it to her, hoping she'll be willing to read the whole manuscript.
Our back yard is a remarkable menagerie this time of years. I encountered an opossum on the deck a couple of days ago. There are chipmunks and several kinds of squirrels and dozens of kinds of birds...plus, I killed a Brown Recluse spider today. I saw it and googled it and found out, by the picture, that it was one of the poison kinds of spiders and I killed it with a paper towel. I hate to kill spiders since they do good and wonderful things. But one that could harm me...I didn't feel quite as bad.
Writing has taken over my retirement--but I do try to get out each day and do something. I cook a lot more now than I did. And I'm obviously trying to find something to write about. What I really want to do is go watch the rest of the Yankee game or work on something I've been writing about.
I'll try again tomorrow.
Our back yard is a remarkable menagerie this time of years. I encountered an opossum on the deck a couple of days ago. There are chipmunks and several kinds of squirrels and dozens of kinds of birds...plus, I killed a Brown Recluse spider today. I saw it and googled it and found out, by the picture, that it was one of the poison kinds of spiders and I killed it with a paper towel. I hate to kill spiders since they do good and wonderful things. But one that could harm me...I didn't feel quite as bad.
Writing has taken over my retirement--but I do try to get out each day and do something. I cook a lot more now than I did. And I'm obviously trying to find something to write about. What I really want to do is go watch the rest of the Yankee game or work on something I've been writing about.
I'll try again tomorrow.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
the fourth person of the Trinity
I have never been good with details. Ask anyone you want who knows me a whit and they will say something like "well, Jim triiies to be responsible, but you know how he is."
How I am is that I'm no good with details and the stuff that makes the world go 'round and keeps the wolves from the door. For example: I write about 3 checks a year. Most of the money that goes into the checking account comes from me...but I don't write checks. I don't 'do' money. Bern does that all for me and I do other significant and important things for her, like...oh, for example, ponder the meaning of life....
Bern would be in the poor house and I would be in prison if I tried to 'do money'. Well, you know how Jim is....he means well, but Christ Almighty he's pretty useless in practical ways.
Bern asked me to open a new roll of Saran Wrap and cover something with it this afternoon. I was so excited since I can't be relied upon to achieve practical tasks: I don't do any yard work because I can't mow right and I don't help clean the house because I'm inept at it.
So, I start to open the new box of plastic wrap and really have trouble and cut my thumb on the little teeth that cut the wrap and bleed all over our downstairs bathroom and have to ask Bern to put the band-aid on because I ruined two trying to do it myself...On and on it goes like that. I am not to be trusted to do normal tasks. But if you want someone to ponder something for you, I'm your guy....Really. Call me up about that....
I'm not much trusted with credit cards and I shouldn't be trusted with insurance cards either.
The Diocese changed insurance coverage beginning in Jan of '10. People under the coverage (like 'under the covers'...ponder that...) were supposed to sign up on line. There was a choice between an HMO type coverage and a POS (Point of Service) coverage. I meant to sign up for POS since my urologist (how important a role is that?) who did my cancer surgery and has been following me the five years since, didn't seem to be in the HMO network. But remember, I had to do this 'online' and another thing I am not to be trusted to do is accomplish what is needed to seal the deal of anything on a computer.
So, I get my new Cigna card. Do I examine it and see if there are any problems like the letter that accompanies the card says to do? Well, I meant to, but I just put the card in my wallet and started pulling it out whenever medical issues came up.
About a month ago, I get a bill from Dr. Olsen, my GP. Cigna has denied two visits to his pleasant little offices in Cheshire because he is not my "Primary Care Physician". Yikes! Did I need one of those? So I pull out my card and discover my PCP is a Dr. William Schreiber, who I've never heard of though I'm sure he's a fine doctor and my Cigna card says, clearly...so clearly only a chipmunk would have missed it: "Network"....Oh my Lord, I'm HMO in spite of my best intentions and Dr. S., my urologist who has had me have exotic blood tests and a bone scan and a cat scan isn't in the 'network'. I'm trying to imagine how much money that would be to pay those bills without insurance....Well, the next day I get a bill from a blood lab for almost $3000, so the adventure is about to begin.
I call the Diocese, frantic and hyperventilating, and Louise gives me the phone # of a certain Ms. L.S. at the Episcopal Medical Trust. I call her and give her a confusing story about how I meant to be POS but I'm HMO and my PCP is wrong and I'm a wreck and hopeless. She says she'll fix the PCP problem and Dr. Olsen will get paid, not to worry.
The next day I get a bill from Dr. Miller, who did a colonostomy for me and had me do blood tests and a cat scan and Cigna had turned him down because he didn't have a proper 'referral'. Well, I know Dr. Olsen sent a referral to Dr. Miller but since Cigna thought William Schreiber should have sent that referral, I am up the creek without a paddle...and the creek's name is S***. (A tad ironic for a colon0stomy Dr...S*** Creek, I mean....)
Now I am thinking in terms of 80 or 100 thousand dollars....how much do scans and colonostomy and all that stuff--plus lots of pre-butt search blood work....Oh Lordy, I just retired and I'm going to prison and Bern will be in the Poor House....
I kept hovering around the front door for a week or more, waiting to intercept any more medical cost bad news before Bern got it in the mail. I was frantic....I'm almost never 'frantic' or even mildly concerned about money. I don't DO money, so 'what, me worry?'
I couldn't sleep for a week or so and was a crazy person in ways far beyond the ways I'm usually crazy. I finally told Bern about my worries and she started to worry but I told her I would handle it. She looked at me like I had said, "I'm going to levitate for a couple of house and lay some eggs while I'm doing that."
But, here's the thing: Don't mess with the Episcopal Medical Trust! The Episcopal Church may be an irrelevant as shoe horns and rotary phones, but the Church Pension Fund is not to be trafficked with and the Medical Trust is part of that and LS, my contact, is the fourth person of the Trinity.
(The Church Pension Fund claims--and who am I to doubt it--that they have the assets to pay the earned pensions of every Episcopal priest, bishops and lay folks in the Fund if they all stopped working tomorrow! Go figure--the economy is going to hell in a dozen ways and the CPF is beyond reproach. The CPF keeps trying to find ways to give $ away. Like I'm getting a $20,000 'relocation allowance' with my first pension payment on August 1. And I'm not relocating!!! Go figure...After all, J. P. Morgan started the damn thing....)
So, in ways I cannot imagine LS is going to 'tell' Cigna to pay all my bills. Dr. Miller IS in the HMO so that's not the problem...but every test, scan, etc., Dr. S. ordered will be paid because LS and the Medical Trust and the CPF tells them too....Astonishing.
I'm sure I screwed this up, ultimately. I don't even know how, but ignorance is no excuse. And LS, the 4th person of the Trinity, and the vast resources of that irrelevant institution known as the Episcopal Church is going to make it right. I can even see Dr. S for the rest of the year and the Medical Trust will tell Cigna to pay him. "Tell them", mind you...astonishing.
I am such an idiot.
A friend once told me, "it's a good thing you're 'charming' and seemingly clueless or someone would have killed you long before now."
That's true.
Even I don't think I deserve the 'grace'--and I mean that in its full theological meaning--of this experience.
But that's the joke, isn't it? None of us DESERVE the "Grace". We just get it....Astonishing. Amazing.....
How I am is that I'm no good with details and the stuff that makes the world go 'round and keeps the wolves from the door. For example: I write about 3 checks a year. Most of the money that goes into the checking account comes from me...but I don't write checks. I don't 'do' money. Bern does that all for me and I do other significant and important things for her, like...oh, for example, ponder the meaning of life....
Bern would be in the poor house and I would be in prison if I tried to 'do money'. Well, you know how Jim is....he means well, but Christ Almighty he's pretty useless in practical ways.
Bern asked me to open a new roll of Saran Wrap and cover something with it this afternoon. I was so excited since I can't be relied upon to achieve practical tasks: I don't do any yard work because I can't mow right and I don't help clean the house because I'm inept at it.
So, I start to open the new box of plastic wrap and really have trouble and cut my thumb on the little teeth that cut the wrap and bleed all over our downstairs bathroom and have to ask Bern to put the band-aid on because I ruined two trying to do it myself...On and on it goes like that. I am not to be trusted to do normal tasks. But if you want someone to ponder something for you, I'm your guy....Really. Call me up about that....
I'm not much trusted with credit cards and I shouldn't be trusted with insurance cards either.
The Diocese changed insurance coverage beginning in Jan of '10. People under the coverage (like 'under the covers'...ponder that...) were supposed to sign up on line. There was a choice between an HMO type coverage and a POS (Point of Service) coverage. I meant to sign up for POS since my urologist (how important a role is that?) who did my cancer surgery and has been following me the five years since, didn't seem to be in the HMO network. But remember, I had to do this 'online' and another thing I am not to be trusted to do is accomplish what is needed to seal the deal of anything on a computer.
So, I get my new Cigna card. Do I examine it and see if there are any problems like the letter that accompanies the card says to do? Well, I meant to, but I just put the card in my wallet and started pulling it out whenever medical issues came up.
About a month ago, I get a bill from Dr. Olsen, my GP. Cigna has denied two visits to his pleasant little offices in Cheshire because he is not my "Primary Care Physician". Yikes! Did I need one of those? So I pull out my card and discover my PCP is a Dr. William Schreiber, who I've never heard of though I'm sure he's a fine doctor and my Cigna card says, clearly...so clearly only a chipmunk would have missed it: "Network"....Oh my Lord, I'm HMO in spite of my best intentions and Dr. S., my urologist who has had me have exotic blood tests and a bone scan and a cat scan isn't in the 'network'. I'm trying to imagine how much money that would be to pay those bills without insurance....Well, the next day I get a bill from a blood lab for almost $3000, so the adventure is about to begin.
I call the Diocese, frantic and hyperventilating, and Louise gives me the phone # of a certain Ms. L.S. at the Episcopal Medical Trust. I call her and give her a confusing story about how I meant to be POS but I'm HMO and my PCP is wrong and I'm a wreck and hopeless. She says she'll fix the PCP problem and Dr. Olsen will get paid, not to worry.
The next day I get a bill from Dr. Miller, who did a colonostomy for me and had me do blood tests and a cat scan and Cigna had turned him down because he didn't have a proper 'referral'. Well, I know Dr. Olsen sent a referral to Dr. Miller but since Cigna thought William Schreiber should have sent that referral, I am up the creek without a paddle...and the creek's name is S***. (A tad ironic for a colon0stomy Dr...S*** Creek, I mean....)
Now I am thinking in terms of 80 or 100 thousand dollars....how much do scans and colonostomy and all that stuff--plus lots of pre-butt search blood work....Oh Lordy, I just retired and I'm going to prison and Bern will be in the Poor House....
I kept hovering around the front door for a week or more, waiting to intercept any more medical cost bad news before Bern got it in the mail. I was frantic....I'm almost never 'frantic' or even mildly concerned about money. I don't DO money, so 'what, me worry?'
I couldn't sleep for a week or so and was a crazy person in ways far beyond the ways I'm usually crazy. I finally told Bern about my worries and she started to worry but I told her I would handle it. She looked at me like I had said, "I'm going to levitate for a couple of house and lay some eggs while I'm doing that."
But, here's the thing: Don't mess with the Episcopal Medical Trust! The Episcopal Church may be an irrelevant as shoe horns and rotary phones, but the Church Pension Fund is not to be trafficked with and the Medical Trust is part of that and LS, my contact, is the fourth person of the Trinity.
(The Church Pension Fund claims--and who am I to doubt it--that they have the assets to pay the earned pensions of every Episcopal priest, bishops and lay folks in the Fund if they all stopped working tomorrow! Go figure--the economy is going to hell in a dozen ways and the CPF is beyond reproach. The CPF keeps trying to find ways to give $ away. Like I'm getting a $20,000 'relocation allowance' with my first pension payment on August 1. And I'm not relocating!!! Go figure...After all, J. P. Morgan started the damn thing....)
So, in ways I cannot imagine LS is going to 'tell' Cigna to pay all my bills. Dr. Miller IS in the HMO so that's not the problem...but every test, scan, etc., Dr. S. ordered will be paid because LS and the Medical Trust and the CPF tells them too....Astonishing.
I'm sure I screwed this up, ultimately. I don't even know how, but ignorance is no excuse. And LS, the 4th person of the Trinity, and the vast resources of that irrelevant institution known as the Episcopal Church is going to make it right. I can even see Dr. S for the rest of the year and the Medical Trust will tell Cigna to pay him. "Tell them", mind you...astonishing.
I am such an idiot.
A friend once told me, "it's a good thing you're 'charming' and seemingly clueless or someone would have killed you long before now."
That's true.
Even I don't think I deserve the 'grace'--and I mean that in its full theological meaning--of this experience.
But that's the joke, isn't it? None of us DESERVE the "Grace". We just get it....Astonishing. Amazing.....
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