Sometimes it's hard being the weird kid who is haunted by snippets of songs or movie clips. Because then you find yourself in the kitchen, straining home-grown raspberries into a purée for cheesecake, singing over and over, "My mama talkin' to me tryna tell me how to live; But I don't listen to her 'cause my head is like a sieve. Na-na-na, na-na-na, nuh-nuuuuh..." Just from the action of sieving berries. Yep. It doesn't take much.
I'm having a break-up crisis. I got an email this week that wrecked my world, and I went to my pharmacist today to find out if it is true. Indeed, Tricare has abruptly cut its contracts with my local folks, as well as a bunch of big others, like CVS and King Soopers (a Kroger company). They are trying to force us to use mail-order. I don't want to go back to that! I still have not forgiven them for how they did me dirty in the great hydroxychloroquine panic of 2020. All these people were buying up the stock of it all over the country, making it impossible for those of us who take it regularly for autoimmune conditions to get refills. They normally sent it in 90 day quantities. That summer, they sent 30 days worth...yet still charged me the full copay as if it were 90. And now I have to go back to them? As if I could trust them?
I flew solo with the babies today. Valerie was her usual perky self, but Dmitri was inconsolable for at least the first hour, and then off and on cranky and okay for the rest of the time. A good couple burps seemed to calm him out of the initial displeasure, but he wasn't so easily solved after that. During one of his agreeable times, he and I discussed the infant toys I dug out of the storage tubs. He seemed particularly interested in the crinkly book I demonstrated for him. His eyes lit up when I turned the pages, and new pictures appeared. Three cloth pages. Six different animals. Lack of object permanence. Grandma magic.
No comments:
Post a Comment