Journal

Well, that's not good...

2010-07-08T17:20:18Z

I worry about money a lot more than Bill does. I fret about balances and budgets and retirement planning. I've been harping on him for months to re-initiate contact with our financial planner, who was supposed to follow up on disability insurance for me but never did. I'm panicked about the second mortgage that still exists on the house that we sold last summer. I lay awake at night thinking of ways to reduce the ungodly amount of money we pay on the mortgage each month.

(Note that I'm not more frugal than Bill, I just worry more.)

So today I came across the Choose To Save Ballpark Retirement Estimator. It's pretty cool - you just put in a few numbers and it spits out how much of your salary you should be saving each month in order to have a specific income when you retire. I took it for a whirl.

This is what it said:

Based on the assumptions you entered, you have now saved enough to allow you to replace 6 percent of your final wages (this includes income from Social Security).

The percentage of total salary you will need to save from now until retirement age to achieve your desired income replacement rate is 160 percent.

The dollar amount you will need to save this year is $80,107.

Well crap. That's not good at all. Either I need to work past 65 (at least part time until I DIE) or manage to live on less than $50,000 a year when I retire. Or perhaps I just need to assume that inflation rates are going to drop below 3% and that my ROI on my retirement savings is more than 7% over the course of the next 30 years.

Or maybe I just need to die sooner.

On My Own

2010-06-27T00:21:49Z

Last week Bill and I celebrated our wedding anniversary in Hawaii. It was a business trip for Bill (mixed in with a horrible, horrible incident of food poisoning for him) and I mostly just hung out in the hotel room in a working vacation that was more 'working” than “vacation”.

I came back yesterday while Bill left straight for Australia, where he will be for a week before going back to Hawaii for another week. Basically, he won't be home until the middle of July. That means I'm home alone!

So far, being home alone has meant watching 20 hours of HGTV episodes, letting the dogs sleep on the bed, and working outside in the garden. My grand list of things to do (buying flooring for the basement, cleaning the obscene amount of dog fur off the carpet, finishing the office/mudroom switcheroo) is still totally unaccomplished, although I did make it halfway through preparing a super fancy dinner of stuffed squash before being distracted by frozen ravioli.

I still have tomorrow, I suppose. Or really -- I suppose I have the next two weeks to get my act together. But for now, I think it's time for an NCIS marathon.

The $364 (Per Minute) Question

2010-06-15T00:31:26Z

Today I went to the doctor for a hysterosalpingogram. The whole thing lasted exactly 11 minutes, including the time it took to change into a gown, the procedure itself, and changing back into my clothes. It also cost $4000.

Our insurance covered 90% of it, which meant I only had to pay $400. ONLY FOUR HUNDRED DOLLARS!!! And that’s what we’ve come to…anything under a thousand dollars is chump change in the world of infertility. And ironically, our health insurance (the super-expensive, high-coverage option) doesn’t cover ANY of the fertility treatment – just the testing. So from here on out, we’ll bear the entire cost of any option we pursue.

My latte budget is in jeopardy, people. This is serious -- I might never get to buy another Starbucks again...

Oil Spill Reaction

2010-06-09T01:58:23Z

I have mixed feelings about BP and the oil spill. On the one hand, my heartstrings are pulled when pictures of oil-drenched birds (yes, I’m even sorry for the birds) and turtles and other wildlife are splashed all over the news. I have followed the press conferences and daily reports and the live web feed of the ocean floor. I’m sickened and disheartened – just like the rest of America.

If the oil spill started at my house, here is the area that would be affected. Courtesy of www.ifitwasmyhome.com

On the other hand…I’m feeling a downright angry about the hypocrisy involved by just about everyone who is reacting to the oil spill with disbelief and blame and pointing fingers and poorly designed posters. Really, people -- you’re shocked and angry that this happened? I assume that you live in an off-grid house and use a bicycle to commute to work, and that your life is completely petroleum free (that means no plastics). It’s not like your way of life had ANYTHING to do with creating a system where offshore drilling is an option and where companies like BP keep the very lifeblood of our economy going.

I’m not saying that BP was blameless, or that offshore drilling is a so-terrible-it-shouldn’t-be-considered idea. Oh no, I’m staying out of the Drill, Baby, Drill vs. Spill, Baby, Spill debate completely. I’m just saying that the surprise, hurt, and shock that everyone is displaying is a little disingenuous. If I see another government official (I’m looking at YOU, Senators) proclaim outrage not 10 minutes after stepping out of their town car, I’m going to vomit.

Whew. I feel better now.

Things I Am Happy About

2010-06-07T23:03:41Z

Before I go on a week-long bender of prescription pill-fueled emotional hijinks, hysterical crying, and morbid ice cream consumption, I thought I would take a minute to list a few things that are going right in my life.

Finding better work/life balance. I’ve been working with a small business coach and the process has been really amazing. I’ve gotten much clearer on what needs to be done, what is extraneous, and how to measure success. The greatest result is that I find myself working a lot less. I’m even trying an experiment where I take Fridays completely off. (It turned out that I was getting nothing done on Fridays anyway…now I’ve just given myself permission not to sit at my desk the whole day, pretending to work.)
Our garden is AMAZING. The extraordinary hot weather and daily thunderstorm is the perfect recipe for lush vegetables and herbs. We picked our first squash today, and there are tomatoes popping up everywhere (although they won’t be ripe for another couple weeks.) We had a bunch of Swiss chard from the garden tonight in our pasta, and I’m going to be overrun with basil in a day or two. The cayenne pepper plant is already shooting off peppers larger than the plant itself, making Bill VERY excited indeed.
A very happy birthday. I have been single for almost all of my birthdays, and Bill’s been away on business the past three years. But this year he made up for it by planning and perfectly executing a weekend trip to Charlottesville. We dropped the puppies off at their “grandparents”, stayed in a charming B&B, ate cake from our favorite bakery before and after each meal (and sometimes in between), listened to live music, got caught in a thunderstorm, had a picnic at a local winery, and generally had an amazing time. I even got a Kindle from Bill (including a “Bindle” – that’s short for a “Bill-built Kindle”), a cookbook for vegetables from Bill’s parents, a spa gift certificate from my sister, and a kimono stand from my parents. Very, very satisfactory.
Books! Since Bill got me the Kindle for my birthday, I’ve been reading up a storm. I also discovered that I can download audiobooks to my iPod from the library, which has opened up a whole new world of options. I forgot how much I enjoy reading – and how lovely it is to meet with my girlfriends every few weeks to chat about them.

And though I hesitate to write it down lest I ruin the trend, the dogs have been behaving themselves for the most part. Yes, I’ve had Maya at the vet SIX times in the last two weeks for her hurt paw, they have been playing very nicely together and not destroying anything more valuable than a used Kleenex.

What Dreams May Come

2010-06-07T04:07:00Z

Last week I had a variation of a recurring dream where I realize I haven’t graduated from high school and I have to go back and get my GED (or sometimes take finals, or sometimes have to enroll in a stupid English Writing class). This time, I had to take a final all-day test and everyone said it was a breeze and so I didn’t read the test-prep guide and missed the very complicated directions. I realized that while the test contents might be a breeze, I had no idea which room I was supposed to be in and I was going to fail because of the strict rules about punctuality. I spent the rest of the dream scurrying around, popping my head into different rooms, and whimpering about how I had TWO master’s degrees and didn’t need this crap anyway.

Last week, Bill had a dream that we had a baby girl and that he was holding her for the first time. He leaned over to see what she looked like, and the baby reached up and grabbed his lips and said TALK LOUDER.

This afternoon I was taking a nap and had a horrible dream that I was in the hold of a ship in a storm, being buffeted back and forth, and being forced to shovel coal into the bellows to keep the ship from sinking. It got hotter and hotter and I was about to expire from heat exhaustion and sea sickness when I woke up to find Maya laying directly on top of me, and Gracie laying against me and kicking while she had her own dream. Probably of chasing Maya in the backyard.

Backyard Mayhem

2010-06-02T20:54:19Z

This is how the dogs spend six hours of every day. You can see why the vet says that Gracie has the pulse rate of an athlete and it's near impossible to keep Maya quiet until her bandage heals.

My favorite part is at 0:46 when Gracie looks like a hyena with her hackles up.

First Harvest

2010-05-31T00:40:50Z

Today I went out to our garden and ruthlessly clipped parsley, lavender, stevia, swiss chard, basil, arugula, and chives. I made a chimichurri sauce (avocado, jalapeño, parsley) for the pork chops that Bill grilled. Then there was the yummy grilled corn, and the avocado soup with tomato puree. And the finishing touch -- my first ever made-from-scratch pie!

I even made some hazelnut scones for our house guests that will be arriving tomorrow evening. All that cooking happened while watching poor Maya, who had to make an emergency trip to the vet today after she burst open her stitches accumulated from a freak dew-claw accident last week. She is not pleased to have to wear that bandage, but not nearly as irritated at her forced inactivity as her sister is.

Desperately Seeking Dr. Susan (OB-GYN, RE)

2010-05-25T19:21:40Z

Bill and I are at the stage where we need to see a fertility specialist, since apparently sex alone isn’t going to get the job done. (I knew that sex was supposed to just be for fun, and not for a larger purpose in life!)

I have spent weeks been pouring over the internet, looking at various infertility centers in our region, examining their treatment options and success rates, and searching out reviews from past patients. I’ve decided on the treatment option that I like best, but at this point I still haven’t called to make an appointment.

Bill, however, went to our healthcare provider’s website, found the fertility specialists (3) that were listed, and chose the one that was closest to us. He called and made an appointment, and there we were the next week for an initial consultation.

Yay for Bill, taking charge. And yay for me, having a husband that figures all of these things out. But boo to the doctor that we saw. He was horrid. He didn’t look at the ream of paperwork I had filled out, lectured us on stuff that we already knew, dismissed out-of-hand the diagnosis of PCOS (which two other doctors have confirmed), and wrapped up by saying “here’s the tests you need, my nurse will give you the paperwork, see you in three weeks”.

I’ve since come to find out that people loathe his bedside manner, but that he gets the job done. Unfortunately, he doesn’t offer the “job” that I want, and my understanding is that he has one specific treatment option that he pushes and isn’t very tolerant of questions.

On the other hand, the place that I want to go that DOES offer the treatment I want gets similar reviews. Namely: effective doctor that is an asshole. Unless you manage to have a baby, in which case all is forgiven and the reviews are all sunshine and roses.

The third option is the most well known, which apparently has good success rates but is also the biggest. General consensus: you are treated like a cow at a factory farm. Plus, it’s really far away when you think about having to go in for daily monitoring.

All of that is to say that there doesn’t look like a clear winner. Should I go with the guy who raises my hackles at the mere thought of his offhand “and you should lose some weight too”? Or should I go to the other local place that offers the treatment that I want (but have no medical evidence that will work – or is even appropriate for me?). Or should we try the factory farm where people are nice but you don’t get any individual attention?

I swear, if I ever decide to switch careers, I’m going into fertility counseling. Based on the reviews I’ve seen, people would happily pay more for an option that offered great clinical results AND a nice bedside manner.

Around the House

2010-05-21T02:19:13Z

It finally stopped raining, and once my allergy medicine kicked in I grabbed the camera to grab a couple pictures of our yard. Bill has worked tirelessly to get the garden looking beautiful and all the flowers are blooming and everything is starting to come together. I love our house.