Sunday, November 13, 2016

I wrote this song yesterday, ya ready?

Friends friends FRIENDS. Friends friends FRIENDS. Friends friends FRIENDS. Friends friends FRIENDS. Friends friends FRIENDS. Friends friends FRIENDS. Friends friends FRIENDS. Friends friends FRIENDS. Friends friends FRIENDS. Friends friends FRIENDS. family.  Friends friends FRIENDS. Friends friends FRIENDS. Friends friends FRIENDS. Friends friends FRIENDS. FRIENDDDDDS. 

Catchy, huh. 

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True Story.

Yesterday, we popped into the Jewel-Osco Pharmacy to get my third prescription. The first two were no charge which is not to say 'free' because I pay insurance, right? 

I take three things-actually four but one is over-the-counter.  One-I call the refrigerator-because it's shaped like a refrigerator door from my yoot. Two is served daily on a delightful bed o' applesauce and it's purpose is smashing that reflux situation-which doesn't seem to be working at all but you have to give it three months. And three is for that blood clot I keep forgetting about. That's a red kinda triangle shaped pill and that's the one I was having trouble getting-because the Blood Lady wants to see me-ugh-and I need all those blood tests all over again but they did decide to give me a months worth so that's what I was there to gather. 

Get to the end of the transaction. Putting my fabulous Economy Shop orange wallet back into my bag and I say: Is there any charge for that? Thinking I was done, right? Hmm she says. Just a moment. Yes, that will be $50. 

I almost fell over. 

With my last insurance plan-the one the government allowed to shut down and run away with my already fulfilled deductible-the one that cost me 130 dollars less every single month-I think the most I paid was $20. And I even signed up to be this drug's stupid pen pal to get a month free. How annoying is that?

We got to talking-this pharmacist and I-and I said, hey. How much is this drug if you don't have insurance? 

THREE HUNDRED BUCKS. A MONTH. 

Holy Mutha of Jayzuz. 



Knock Your Sprouts Off-Sprouted 7-Grain Bread


We collected the stuff we scored at Aldi-so far the milk, the bread in the photo-which I think is a variation on Ezekiel bread and it tastes very happy-the bananas, and a whole bunch of other experimental things-seem to be very nice-altho I'm not especially sold on the coffee-but don't go by me because all coffee tastes weird to me right now-seem to be extremely cheerful choices and we were dragging them up to the third floor and I was telling P about the three hundred bucks for that One Pill. 

You know what that is, I said. 


A cartoon. 

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The strange thing about living in one place for this long is when it came to finding a safety pin, I knew exactly where they were. That's not normal, right?


When I was a twerp, on our path to Roosevelt School there were these posters in the windows of certain houses. It was the "Helping Hands" program. And the deal was, if you needed assistance, you could safely approach these houses and all would be swell. 

Now there's this:


And for me? In this time-in this place, I want you to know that I'm not going to hold you. That's creepy. But I would hold your purse or your nice dogs leash. And the love thing. It's too soon. But I respect you and your right to exist. Duh. Oh yeah and the shutting up thing. That might be a problem as well. 

FYI. 
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Coming up this week:
My first program at Gilda's Club and I'm going all by myself which is good, I think. If I went with my cancer busting pal-we would for SURE get booted for giggling(One time we went to a Professional Writers Meet Up and we were DYIN' laffing as the leader of the group read her romance piece. I mean like one of those situations where your face actually hurts and you can't breathe from trying not to laugh.) and you know, you don't fill friendship holes if you go in with your hands full. Or something.


And-as I check the calendar-TWO doctors appointments. Won't that be fun. 


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Have a charming week, my friends, friends, FRIENDS.

(See? I knew it was catchy.)









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