Category Archives: rant

It Makes My Head Hurt

Okay… here is a ran.  Be forewarned.

Math puzzles irritate me.  More to the point, math puzzles on facebook irritate me because it makes painfully obvious that people can not think.  They irritate me more when I’m 5 weeks out on a 4 week infusion schedule, so I’m really not feeling overly conciliatory right now.

One rabbit saw 6 elephants while going towards River.
Every elephant saw 2 monkeys are going toward river.
And Every monkey holds one parrot in their hands.

Now, honestly, I don’t care how many were going to the freaking river.  The puzzle reminds me of one I learned as a kid…

As I was going to St Ives I met a man with seven wives, every wife had seven sacks every sack had seven cats every cat had seven kittens… kittens cats sacks wives, how many were going to St Ives…

Sometimes I read through the comments and shake my head at the math (there were answers ranging from three to five to thirty one to twenty five)

TODAY I read through the comments and lost it.  One of the comments was that it had to be three… one rabbit and two moneys because parrots are birds not animals.  The EXACT same comment was on a post when I googled the math puzzle to see what other responses there were.

Now, I’m no math wiz, but I do know that a parrot (and a seagull and a freaking pigeon) are not plants, they are not insects, they are not rocks or dirt… birds ARE ANIMALS!!!

I don’t care how bad at math you are, I don’t care how much you think you know about absolutely everything… birds are animals.  They are not mammals they are birds, but animals they are indeed.

It frightens me that our schools have failed so badly in that simple thing.

 

Sorry
rant over
coffee time
and maybe some Napproxen

 

love and light
April

4/14/17

How Many Likes

<<< Rant… just saying… you can leave now if you wish>>>

Okay… so this morning I have enough time to think and I realize just how much this bothers me and just how much I need to get this out of my head.  There are things that drive me out of my tree (this is one of them) that I can vent about and there are some that I know venting will not help even in my head.

So vent I will

I am on Facebook.  I joined Facebook to, frankly, keep track of my kids and to kind of patrol what they were saying and to try to derail (when they were minors) any stupidity that I thought I might be able to derail.

I read (when I can) posts that other people post.  I smile at the cat and dog posts.  I cringe at the plethora of rhetoric that has descended in the past year.  I read and I think

And what has been eating at me so much lately (other than the posts that deride others if they don’t agree or that do the neener neener neener dance over and over and over again) are the posts that ask how many likes can this person get, how many likes can this poor puppy get, like and share and comment and jump up and down on one foot and scream to the cosmos if your God is a vain and needy God.

I just paged through an entire “page” of how many likes can this get, how many likes can that get, how many likes… like me like me like me like me! The person in the picture will probably never know how many “likes” they got.  But the person who is doing nothing to improve anything, nothing to help, nothing to make a difference is getting a BAZILLION likes for posting a picture that elicits emotion.  Yay for popularity contests.

My God is not a needy God.  I honestly don’t think He gives a rats ass how many people on Facebook like a post about Him or comment Amen (Overcoming cerebral palsy, type Amen if God is good…. Can they get a amen with alot of likes… 100 likes in 2 minutes guys ? cutest baby ever)…  I think He is too busy with important shit to really worry about His ratings on Facebook… or the number of like YOU are getting by posting that people should like comment and share.

No.
No, I won’t
and the more you beg me to, the less likely I am to like ANY of your crap and the more likely I am to unlike a page and scroll on past your crap.

There are things that I will share.  Yeah, probably entirely too many but the ones I share speak to ME and are targeted at ME because they make me think.  Yeah, it makes me smile when one of my pictures that I take with my phone while I’m in the out and about get liked  on Facebook or when something I’ve said here or in my writing blog get liked (because then I can kid myself into believing that my words have touched lives and made a difference).  But for me it is more the knowing that something that I’ve done or said has maybe helped someone… that maybe I have made a small difference even just for a day.

It’s not a popularity contest.

If something has helped, I am incredibly happy that it has helped.

If something has made you smile or think or understand a little better, then that is even better.

There are times that I would love to have certain people like my crap because then I would think that maybe they understood.  But they don’t and… they don’t… but I’m used to that.

So I will end my rant and I will work harder at planting flowers and spreading Joy and being a tiny light in the darkness.

Love and Light
April
1/25/17

Gallery

Coloring Mandalas: A Rant

***** Warning… I’m on a rant **** I read a blog post this morning about adult coloring pages/books with mandalas being a tool of Satan.  Normally, I read things like this will a jaded eye and go on my merry … Continue reading

It’s a COFFEE CUP!!!

****************** Rant Alert *********************

So, the hullabaloo lately has been Starbucks red holiday cups.  I’m not sure if it is as big a deal as social media makes it out to be or not.    If it isn’t, then it is AMAZING marketing on Starbucks part.  If it is… PU-LEEZE…

It’s a cardboard cup that will end up in a landfill somewhere.  It’s a FIVE DOLLAR cardboard cup that will end up in a landfill somewhere.  It’s a cup.  If you only drink Starbucks because they have CHRISTmas cups, have you ever actually paid attention to the cups?  I’m not sure what part of Jesus was connected to snowflakes, snowmen or reindeer, but I’m sure there is somewhere in the Bible that had snowflakes.

The holiday cups come out in November.  Not typically the Christmas month, but… you know…

Starbucks is a global company.

Coffee/tea is not a Christian drink.

We live in a country where separation of church and state is an HUGE deal as long as it is separation for MY religion but NOT yours… neener neener.

It’s a CARDBOARD cup.  It will come with a brown corrugated sleeve so you don’t burn your widdle fingers on the cup.

This country is so consumed with what one COMPANY is doing with their cups… you know what… buy ten of those plain red cups of coffee/tea and walk down the street handing them to cold homeless people.  You have a FAR better chance of having people remember that “Jesus is the Reason for the Season” than seeing your “OH SO ORIGINAL” use of

My name is Merry Christmas (so you have Merry Christmas on this year’s cup )

as you strut your proud little self down the street…

You know what… go buy yourself a Merry Christmas travel mug and have Starbucks use THAT to put your coffee in.  You get your coffee and your sentiment and it keeps trash out of the landfill.  You get to be ecologically intelligent AND have your coffee in the cup of your choice.

As for me, I’m going to keep drinking my ‘while I’m out and about” coffee, no matter where I buy it in one of two cups this holiday season.  And maybe, just maybe I will go buy an extra cup of coffee when I go buy mine, and hand it to the people living in the two tents under a bridge right now in Cleveland…. and while I’m at it, maybe a hat and scarf and glovies to go with the plain red cup (or white, or whatever color it happens to be)

DSC00448Merry Monday!

 

Author: April Wells
Updated November 9, 2015

Gallery

Freaking Cold

So… today I go back to work.  A week of vacation and a day of work from home and today I go back.  It’s going to be -1 when I start my mile walk from my parking lot to work.  I’m … Continue reading

Fighting To Retain the Christmas Spirt

***** Warning… rant in progress… *** Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

I love Christmas.  I love winter… almost as much as I love fall.  And here I am… sitting at my window, trying very hard to retain the Christmas spirit.

This morning my fingers are not happy.  I’ve used my Tiger Balm and my Voltaren gel, and they are still not happy.  I’m going to have to resort to Napproxin shortly.  This is not a huge big deal.  THAT at least is something I have come to expect at random times.

I’ve been sitting here absolutely depressed, however, over my work schedule for the rest of the year.  I’m not supposed to be on call at all this weekend.  AT ALL.  Yesterday I got a rather testy phone call asking me why I wasn’t on line because it was go live (WHO knew) for a project that I wasn’t aware I was even still responsible for.  4 hours working on THAT project on my day off (another hour or so today… yay me) PLUS I got another rather not happy call from MY project team asking me if I could log on and work for an hour or so because the person who WAS on call was TWO HOURS away from his computer.

It’s not bad when I expect it.  It’s not nearly as bad when I can plan around it.  Finding out that my daughter is liable to get fired for being late because no one bothered to tell me that I had to work on my weekend off… really?  Thanks guys… Uber Specialness.

Starting on the 18th (The ENTIRE holiday, ironically starting the SECOND I am allowed to carry more than 10 pounds) I’m on call for all but three days through the end of the year.  I’ve already been warned it’s going to be very busy and there are going to be a lot of things that have to be done. Merry Christmas.  Yay me.  Christmas eve and Christmas day, New Years Eve and New Years day, the entire weekend for two consecutive weekends.  There are going to be two of us NOT on vacation on the Friday after Christmas.  Because when people committed to what they were going to take (back in September) as vacation… they forgot what they said.

Good thing we got the Christmas lights out of the way over Thanksgiving.  I’m trying so hard to keep looking forward to the rest of the Christmas season.  I’m NOT working next Sunday.  I don’t care if someone has to drag my cold dead body across the finish line at the Santa Hustle… I’m holding on to at least that remnant of my holiday.

I’m trying… I really am…

I’m not sure if it is the full moon making it worse, or just realizing that commitments don’t mean shit to people when there are good times to be had… but whatever it is, I have to find a way to shake off the tears and get the holiday spirit back.

People are Just People

People are People So, I’ve pretty much had it with people dumping on people because there is something, just a little something, that they don’t like. Hair color, nationality, sexual orientation, gender, whatever… People rag on other people for lots of reasons. None of them are really good reasons.
I don’t know if I’m getting old, or I’m just flat out weird, or maybe a combination of a lot of things, but (as I’ve been watching out the window of the bus navigating the highways and byways of Ecuador) I realize that that People are People.
The people you pass on the street? They may not be JUST like you, but they really are just like you. They have their own problems. They have their own opportunities. They hurt, they get angry, they get happy, they love.
Life is so full of ire and anger and stress, why is it that people find it necessary to spend so much energy and effort on judging and hurting other people.
Cliche? yeah… I know.. but… seriously… why can’t we all just get along?
I watch the people… they are going to work, carrying their children, waitng in line at the bank, packed like sardines (more cliche? full of it today, aren’t I?) in city busses.
What is it about people that compels them to judge, to hate, to malign? Energy would be much better spent focussng on making yourself less stressed and more content rather than expending it on hate against others…

okay… soap box over.. you can go back to your regularly scheulded programming.

Methotrexate… a rant…

Okay, so I gave you fair warning.  This is a rant.  I try not to let it eat at me and fester, but there are just some things that are so irritating that I have to let lose.  THIS is one of them.

Methotrexate has always been kind of a sore spot with me (not to… you know… make bad jokes about stomach shots and stuff).  For a while I had a hard time finding a store that had sufficient available Methotrexate (liquid) to fill my prescription.  It isn’t a profitable drug.  Passe.  So the makers don’t always manufacture sufficient.  Or there is a mass recall (this has happened more than makes me comfortable).  Add to that, my DOCTORS have suggested that I would be better off using the “with preservative” kind and have written my scripts as such.

Most pharmacies don’t have a problem filling what is written.  Most… If they have it.  I’ve had trouble with one chain in more than one city… in more than one state… in more than one TIME zone… when it comes to this drug.

In Texas it was ‘suggested” (okay… they told me flat out) that they don’t carry my medication as it is written.  I need to go BACK to my doctor and MAKE her write my script either as pills (which make me really REALLY sick) or as the injectables that they DO carry because the company they happen to chose to use doesn’t carry the with preservative vials.  So… I said that they wouldn’t be my pharmacy, I trust my doctor and it is HER job to write what she wants me to take… not theirs to prescribe what they want to sell me.

Now I find myself insured with a company and the pharmacy that I HAVE to use for maintenance drugs (which, despite the fact that I take MTX every week and have for three or four years now, apparently this isn’t… ) is… yep yep yep… the one that doesn’t like my MTX script.

Skip forward to yesterday.

Dr called in my refill.  One month supply, 4 shiny little vials (except the doctor thinks she’s calling in two moth supply… blood test to blood test) came from the pharmacy.  Bear and I got into a lengthy text message conversation about the meds.  He said the bottles didn’t look like what I’ve been taking.  They didn’t.  They say preservative free on the vials, so I got a one month supply, half of which I would be throwing out, and the vials are bigger and a different shape than what I use.  OH… and they are twice the dose I use.  The ones I take are 25mg/ml the ones they filled are 50mg/ml.

Now, I’m not a pharmacist or anything, but I’m good enough at math (it was one of the dual minors on my undergrad degree) to know that 50 is kind of a bigger number than 25.

I called the pharmacy.  They don’t carry my script and TECHNICALLY the doctor didn’t say it HAD to be with preservative.  They GUESS (they guess???) they can TRY to get what I take to fill my script NEXT month, MAYBE, but only if the doctor SPECIFICALLY says they HAVE to.  Otherwise they will give me what they like to sell not what I take.

What do I do with the drugs I won’t take?

Toss them they guess, they can’t do anything with them.  WE left the store.

The guy on the phone laughed at me.  He thought it was hilarious that I was calling him about this.

I called the insurance company.  The part of the company that handles the prescriptions.  The part of the INSURANCE company DIRECTLY AFFILIATED with the pharmacy (which is why I HAVE to use them for maintenance drugs) because I was concerned with being laughed at and being told that there is NOTHING they can do until they get a different prescription.

And I had questions about why (maybe the doctor changed what dose she wants me to take even though I’ve been mostly controlled and even though when I was there she verified my dosage) it was 50mg rather than 25mg.

The insurance company showed that 25mg had been billed in Feb and (GHASP) yeseterday.  25… 25… yeah… the right dose.

I was also informed that MTX is apparently not considered a maintenance drug, so I can get THAT filled anywhere I like.  So I’m going back to where I can get what I take without argument or stress.

I don’t understand why they think it is okay to mess up my meds.  And I know it isn’t personal.  They mess up meds for lots of people or it wouldn’t be such a joke.

My MTX… taking twice the strength might make me feel crappier than usual for a day, but it probably wouldn’t do any real lasting damage.  But other people take other meds.  They RELY on pharmacies filling the scripts RIGHT.  They might not realize the dose is doubled.  What then?  Not everyone has a George Bailey looking out for them.  Not everyone triple checks the labels every time (okay, MOST times).  What happens with them.

he he he… ooopsy?

shake my head… you are dealing with LIVES… it’s really not that funny.

Gallery

Five weeks

Sitting at the glass table. No desk. Beggers can’t be choosers even if the overpriced loft isn’t actually nearly as good as a similarly priced apartment. Yay me. The fireplace doesn’t work. But it is a lovely place to stick … Continue reading

On Finishing Last…

Okay, so… I’ve been thinking a lot the last day and a half on finishing a race dead ass last.  Not losing.  I didn’t lose.  Losing would have been quitting because it got hard, or not starting because of the rain, or not trying because it’s work.  I didn’t lose.  I ran my race and I finished.  And I’m glad I did.

But, there are things that you miss out if you are in the back of the pack.

In February, I did the Austin Half.  My time was 4:00:39.  Not really anything to brag about other than I finished.  I was hurting like hell and I finished.  Yesterday I did 10 miles in 2:38:57.  And I felt pretty damn good by the time I finished.

Except…

I learned that, when you’re last, you really don’t seem to count.

The people taking pictures… get great pictures of the HUGE herd of people crossing the starting line… coming around mile 9 or 10 or 12… or across the first street bridge or whatever.  They disappear after the huge herd passes.  I got my picture taken I think three times yesterday… Once at the start, once rounding the 9.75 mile mark and once crossing the finish line.   And that guy really didn’t want to still be there, you could tell.

The people cheering leave.  If you aren’t in the herd, you really don’t get cheered so much except sometimes by the people at the water stops.

The water stops dry up and blow away.  In the half, right were I NEEDED gatoraid and right where I NEEDED water, the tables were there, there were empty cups blowing around.  There was no water.  Yesterday, as we were finishing the last two miles, they were pulling the tables and the water buffalos.  Poof… no water for the stragglers.  The people not elite… the people not fast enough to be in with the in crowd… they probably don’t need water by mile 8-9-10-11-whatever anyway.

I’m not elite.  I don’t have a bicycle riding with me to make sure I make my time and get to the finish line in the first handful of runners.  I’m not even really middle of the pack.  Yesterday, we had the medic buggy pacing us about 7 feet behind my heels.  Okay, it may have only felt to me like they were vultures circling the feast, but, you know what, I had THREE hours to finish.  I guess technically I had until 10:00 am to finish by what I was told…   I finished in under 16 minute miles.  I finished with a good FIFTEEN minutes to spare and THAT was after they delayed the start 15 minutes.  I might not ever be a good runner, but it really is demoralizing to realize that your ass is what is holding up EVERYONE from going out and having their fun.

I paid my money.  I count.

For all of those even planners out there planning races…

Leave the water until AFTER the last runners pass.  It’s not that many extra minutes to your day.

Don’t park your porta-potty truck on the course even if you have to wait for us to pass and it takes you an extra twenty minutes on your day.  Going around you truck is a pain in the ass and tacky.

If you are the people scraping up the bodies that don’t make it, If I happen to still be up and running (or walking or crawling for that matter) BACK OFF.  You are in a buggy.  Staying 20 feet back or 30 feet back… or however far back it ends up being that I don’t have to hear you discussing your lunch plans that I’m ruining by being one of the last 10 people to finish.

I may not matter to you, but this matters to me.  I matters just as much to me, hell, maybe it matters MORE to me, as it does to mister first place finisher.

And if you are taking pictures, I buy your stupid pictures.  Usually.  If I’m actually… you know… IN any of them.  Want to make a buck (or a hundred bucks)… maybe I count too.  Probably not… but maybe.

okay… I’ll quit venting (and hope like hell I can get to sleep soon).

Just… please know… those of us who aren’t in the first half of the pack have feelings.  We spent the same amount of money to be here as everyone else, hell, maybe more.  Have the courtesy to treat us the way that you treated the guy who finished first in a course record.