It's always something scary. Or irritating.

So, our boy had an appointment for a panoramic dental x-ray today.  You see, a year ago, he had one done, which revealed a small "radiolucent spot with a radiopaque outer rim."  Or some such crap.  We took him to an oral surgeon, much to Blue Cross's chagrin, who didn't want to do much of anything.  He said that, with the placement (directly under the roots of his bottom incisors), anything he did would be potentially devastating.  He recommended a "watch and wait" approach.  He recommended x-rays in a year.

So here we are.  The small spot below the incisors?  The same.  But now there is a much larger, irregularly shaped radiopaque spot underneath our boy's wisdom tooth and extending to just below the adjacent molar.  #31, I believe.  This is big, it's not tiny like the thing under the incisors.  So it's back to the oral surgeon.  The dentist said "it might just be swelling from the wisdom tooth starting to impact," but this is the same dentist who totally missed my salivary stones and insisted that pulling our boy's deciduous canine wouldn't inspire the adult tooth to come in (even though, a year earlier, that's exactly what his old dentist did for the canine on the other side, and it worked).  So I don't know.

I don't know.

What I do know?  Is that we don't have dental insurance.  We have GEHA, which is a supplemental thing, but when you're knocking a three grand bill down to fifteen hundred, it's still a grand more than you have.  No idea how much this is going to cost, only know that we don't have it.  But we have to know what's going on here.  Our insurance really balked at covering the Oral Surgeon last time, tried very hard to insist it was DENTAL, which they don't cover.

Oh, sweetie.  Be okay.  Please.

Today's x-ray, unmarked

And labeled for your viewing pleasure

So, the dog's training is paid for.  I actually thought we were going to wait a month, see how my medical stuff comes out, but it's done now.  Gotta tell you, I don't want a pelvic, I don't want a mammogram, I don't want to step on that scale and have to feel like hell about myself.  But I DO want the CLEAR results of that mammogram, I DO want someone to say, "Everything looks normal," and I absolutely NEED my metoprolol script re-upped.  And if I don't go for the pelvic, then I have to go to the GP/PCP and ask HER, and I sure don't want to do that.

Medical care exhausts me.  Co-pays exhaust me.  But, being someone who's lived without health insurance for long periods?  It could be worse.  I recognize that.  

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Been reading a lot about the Steubenville rapists.  Been seeing all the sympathy rolling their way.  

Because, hey, if you can't blame the victim, who CAN you blame?  Not the RAPISTS, clearly.

Let's get something straight here--no matter what she wears, says, does, no matter how she acts or how much she drinks, no matter where she walks, drives, or passes out, the RAPIST is the one who calls the tune, the RAPIST is the one who decides to RAPE.  I don't want to hear about the rapists' promising athletic careers or academic whatever-the-hells or, gosh, how sad that they'll be registered sex offenders.  What else do you suggest they register as?  They are, after all, SEX OFFENDERS.  Stop acting like they're poor little victims.  Their poor little victim had her name, her reputation, and her very life strewn out and torn to bits in court in defense of rapists.

Of rapists.

If you don't like rape, don't rape.  If you don't want your sons serving time for rape, teach them not to rape.  Teach them to respect women--all women.  Teach them that their hands and their penises stay to themselves unless expressly invited.  Teach them that alcohol poisoning and Rohypnol  are not forms of consent.  Unconscious or barely conscious can NEVER give consent.  

Period.

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Hubby picked up The Hobbit on Blu Ray last night.  From what I understand, the wonky 48 frames per second gig won't translate.  I get the feeling I'm glad about that.  Just finished watching it, and I'll get into it tomorrow.  Not feeling all that charitable tonight, will probably be less critical after a night's sleep.

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I want to take a moment to discuss "slactivism."  You know, the whole "I clicked a button, I forwarded an email, I shared a meme, I've DONE something!" thing that seems so common these days.  

Hey, I share memes--not because I think I'm raising money or making change.  I know better.  I share memes because they're funny or because they reflect my feelings about something, and I share them with folks I know likely share my opinion.  Every once in a while, if I know someone's open or on the fence, I'll share something that I think might nudge them over.  If it's something not wildly inflammatory or insulting, that is.  I don't consider that "slactivism" because I don't think I'm being an "activist," I don't think I'm accomplishing anything other than amusing myself and my friends.

I guess, to me, the term "slactivism" refers to people who post a meme (or a magnetic ribbon on their SUV) and feel they've done something, like their obligation to be active and humanitarian has been fulfilled.  You know, with stupid crap like this:

Which came with the following stupid caption:  

I am not asking you to hit like but i am asling

you to please Share .

Poor baby Suffering from Cancer , For every

share of this pic , Facebook will donate $1 to

the parents of this baby .

___________Sharing will Take Secs ___________

_______________ Please Help____

Okay, folks?  People?  Please?  This sort of thing is ALWAYS BS, okay?  ALWAYS.  Facebook/Microsoft/Apple/FEMA/Walmart/WHOMEVER is NOT going to donate WHATEVER amount to WHATEVER sick baby based upon your clicks, forwards, or shares.

Period.  So stop it.  You're like a virus, you just eat up bandwidth and waste people's time.  Stop it.

STOP IT!

On a related note?  "LIKE this soldier/baby/child-in-a-wheelchair/legless-dancer/bedraggled puppy, SCROLL if you hate them" memes?  Those are also not activism, they don't accomplish anything, and trying to guilt people into sharing your stupid crap is . . . well, it's stupid crap.  Stop that, too.

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And now that I'm all done yelling about stuff, do me a favor?  Check out my comparative reviews of CAMERAS and CHOCOLATE.  Because they really do go together, and if it weren't for cameras and chocolate, I'm not sure life would be worth living.

And that's all, I think.  Except for some bad paneling.  I know, I know, I promised bad RED paneling, but that's on my iPad, and I haven't sent it over yet.  Until I do, have some turquoise with  . . . is that coral?  Salmon?  LOL, what ever it is, it's perfectly precious!

Do not reprint without permission. © KAQ

Christmas Past

Well, another one under my (for now) increasingly large belt.  Nah, I'm not feeling guilty about the eating--I knew it was coming, and I enjoyed it immensely.  It'll almost certainly continue until New Year's, when we'll hop back on that wagon.

Christmas Eve brought the traditional "one gift the night before" thing.  For the boy and me, it was new cell phones--the ones I talked about earlier.  They are Razr Droids--quite fancy, and the screens are big enough that I can likely comfortably use mine without squinting and giving myself a headache.  Despite having opened the box, our boy was actually quite surprised.  Sadly, hubby had gotten himself a watch . . . which came pre-broken.  Since we don't know where the receipt is (grrrr!), we're not sure the store will take it back.  Hopefully, they will.  Yes, I'm the one who always yells to keep receipts.  No, they don't often get kept.

We ate Chinese and watched, of course, A Christmas Story.  It's become something of a tradition.  A good one, I think.

Christmas morning found me wide awake at 6 am.  Understand, I hadn't gone to bed until after 3 am.  So, in a totally out-of-character move for me, I went back to sleep.  Woke up at 9:45 to my boy gently taking my hand in his.  I sure do love him.  We had a wonderful morning, and there were even some surprises for me under the tree--candle-making gear and my Ojon shampoo and leave-in conditioner.  The candle-making stuff was suspected, but the Ojon was a total shock.  Not sure HOW it was a shock, considering Facebook's "targeted advertising" has been burying me under Ojon adverts for a couple of weeks now.  Hubby LOVED his hobbit slippers, so that was a happy thing.  Our boy, sadly, is finding that our computer isn't quite up to snuff when it comes to playing his new game, Skyrim.  It plays, but it's laggy and the frames per second are crap.  I'm sad for him, but I've got 20 years of "computer can't handle the game" disappointment under my belt.  It's rough, but it's one you have to learn to live with.  Still sad, though--hate to have him even a little disappointed on Christmas.

Dinner was steaks, mushrooms and onions, roasted butternut and sweet potato, mashed red potatoes with skins, and crab cakes.  Dessert was homemade brownies with homemade whipped cream, topped with ice cream and raspberries in Chambord sauce.  It was . . . not as good as it sounded like it was going to be.  The whipped cream, which hubby made, was spectacular, but the sauce just clashed with the brownie, made it too rich.  Oh, well.  Now we know.  We watched Love, Actually (another Christmas tradition, though this one makes my heart hurt a bit every time), and then watched an episode of Walking Dead, which features one of the actors from Love, Actually. 

Speaking of Walking Dead, I'm still not sure how I feel about it.  It is, for the most part, well-enough acted, and the story is playing out well.  Sort of a The Stand meets Revolution meets 28 Days Later.  All things I enjoy.  But the gore level is excessive--gratuitous, really.  And, truth be told, I'm sick to death of Zombies.  What was funny and silly, interesting and just a little scary five years ago has been so miserably overdone, so sickeningly incorporated and internalized that I really do feel that maybe it's becoming harmful.  Guess hearing eight year-olds talk about "getting that head shot" and "double tapping" troubles me.  That said, if zombie shows are the way you tend, Walking Dead is pretty good thus far. 

Had Charlie groomed this morning.  They did a better job with his face and neck this time, but utterly failed to do his ears and tail.  I guess, when you go to Petsmart for the great price, you maybe get what you pay for.  I'll trim them up myself tonight.  I do a pretty good job.  Took him to the vet after to have his microchip checked and ask why they want him tested for heartworm.  He's been on heartworm meds since before he was six months old, there shouldn't be any need for testing, but they insist it needs to be done.  Sounds like an easy way for them to make 60 bucks. 

Hubby and son are at the theater, watching "The Hobbit." I had no desire, really--I'm not a huge theater fan, it kills me that three folks at the theater with one large popcorn and three drinks is 85 bucks. There is rarely a movie I find worth that. I don't hate "The Hobbit," but it's not my favorite of the bunch, and we have a nice enough HDTV that it'll look just fine at home when it comes out on Blu-ray.


The weather this morning was amazing--snow, wind, chunks of ice (not hail, but ice), and freezing rain.  Now it's just rain, and it is POURING down!  Has been for hours, guess there are flood warnings out.  Just put on my new Christmas shirt, then promptly ran outside into this disaster to tell a neighbor that the back door to his car was open.  I remember the days when I just would have dashed over and closed it for him, but I don't really know these folks, they likely have a car alarm, and people get weird when you touch their cars anymore.  The days of sliding behind the wheel of a stranger's car and turning their headlights off for them are gone. 

Think we're finally going to thaw the turkey soup we made at Thanksgiving and serve it up. The weather outside is, after all, frightful.

Hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas! 

What a Spectacular Day!

So, we drove into DC-ish yesterday (now day before yesterday--took me two days to type this!).  First near, then into town proper.  See, when we went to Mount Vernon earlier this month, I spotted an amazing, almost medieval-looking fortress across the Potomac as we drove up the George Washington Parkway (known by locals as "the GW").  It captured my imagination, and I've been wanting to check it out ever since.

Fort Washington from the GW Parkway

This behemoth, it turns out, is Fort Washington. Completed in 1809, it was scuttled five years later by its own garrison to prevent the invading British, who were approaching both overland and by way of the Potomac, from benefiting from its strategic location.

We weren't really expecting to even get out of the car.  This was my hunting trip, hubby wasn't too enthused, and my back and heel/plantar fasciitis have been giving me grief.  I figured it was going to be a drive-by sort of visit, something to use up the time between then and dark, when we were going to go into town and see the monuments all aglow.

Arriving, we were immediately faced with this--and I was already in love.  I figured the fort itself would be off-limits, but look at this!

And this!

As we continued driving, it appeared that it was just a loop through park-like grounds.  Disappointing, but still, a pretty diversion.  But then we saw a sign for a side-lane promising a lighthouse and river walk!  Still didn't feel like I wanted to do much walking, but it might make for some nice pictures, right?

The place was nearly deserted for a Sunday, and parking was a breeze.  We parked next to the (clean, open!) bathrooms and decided to walk in.  Just a little walk. 

Just a few hundred feet in, we were greeted by this:

And then this guy:

Before really attending to the gigantic fortress on the hill, we strolled down to the small, still-operational lighthouse on the shore below:

Lighthouse overlooking the Potomac

  After that?  I climbed a very steep hill to reach the water battery, which is where the cannons protecting the water way were placed:

Water Battery

    Advancing on the fortress proper, we stumbled upon . . . BAG END!

Bag End (post Sharkey, I'm thinking)

     And the SHIRE!

The Shire, again, after Sarumon's scouring

    Checking out the gate (the stairway is closed at the top), I managed to capture a REAL LIVE GHOST ORB!. 

Ghost orb near left-top of inner arch.  No, I don't believe in ghost orbs.

   

After checking out the gate, we walked around to the main entrance, where the drawbridge once lived:

Drawbridge

Drawbridge



Gosh yes.

The drawbridge stretch is now, of course, a permanent strutcture.  Made of plywood, which left me a little iffy, but I was game.  I was hanging back a bit, with hubby and son a ways ahead.  I like to take a lot of pictures (you can probably tell, huh?).  When I got into the guard's rooms, hubby came RUNNING back, and he was talking a mile a minute, pointing things out, incredibly excited.  I can't even tell you how happy that makes me--his imagination was absolutely ablaze. 



Guard Quarters

Yes, those are cannon balls!

Once inside, it became clear just how huge this place really is. The scale sort of escapes you when you're on the outside looking UP. Sure, it's big, but big enough for two mansion-sized barracks, cannon batteries, out-buildings, and parade grounds? Why yes--yes it is!

Hubby and son ran all over the place--down the steep stairs to check out the gun ports while I wandered about the upper battery.  I chatted with a few folks--there weren't many there, but those present were quite friendly.  It was a gorgeous day, maybe 55 degrees, with enough of a wind that you wanted to keep moving.  One gentleman told me he'd seen the fireworks from the fort, but that they weren't all that impressive because they were so far away.  One lovely woman who was caring for an elderly gentleman told me to be sure and come back in the spring when the trees have fully leafed.  And the young Ranger, who was very friendly and kind, talked about both his love of the job and the plans for the fort in the future.  He said that they're working on fire suppression systems for the two barracks so they can open them up to the public with period artifacts. 

Officer's Barracks

Enlisted Men's Barracks (with our Ranger)

While the two barracks look the same, there is a major difference--the inside of the Officer's Barracks are sectioned into private quarters, whereas the Enlisted Men's Barracks are split into four equal rooms (two per floor), where bunks are arranged.  No privacy for the enlisted men.

Sadly, the place closes at 4 pm during winter hours, so we were soon on our way out, though we're planning on returning later this week. That will give us the chance to more fully explore the backside of the battlements and the Commandant's Quarters, which we only saw from a distance this time around.

Commandant's Quarters.  Had to work really hard to get it tilted like that.

It wasn't until after we got home that we discovered hubby had brought home a hitchhiker.  A bloodsucking, scuzzbucket hitchhiker from hell.  Oh, I hate ticks!  Including the tick, though, the cost for a day at Fort Washington?  Five bucks, and the parking is free.  Bring along a picnic lunch and there you go--a beautiful, affordable day.

Hubby's tick--should have taken the pic while it was still embedded in his shoulder, huh?

After we left the glorious Fort Washington, we headed into DC proper to visit the FDR Memorial.  We've been before.  Repeatedly, in fact.  It's a favorite.  But I'd never seen it at night, and hubby strongly recommended it.  Boy, was he right!  I'm not going to post about that now, though.  This is a big, long blog entry and if you've made it this far, I owe you a break.  And a Twinkie, huh?  And maybe I won't even have to pay 200 bucks for a box!

Hope you enjoyed!  I strongly recommend you visit Fort Washington, especially if you or your kids have a love for castles, fortresses, war history, or just really big, cool places.  The feel is European, and if you've ever read or watched Bernard Cornwell's Sharpe's series, you'll feel like you're in the middle of it.  Go (and bring the DEET and Permethrin)--you won't be sorry you did.

Oh, and please forgive the Tolkien references.  You gotta admit, though, right?