A topsy turvy day

 

My UCLA granddaughter many years ago.

Truly we have had an upside-down day today. I thought I would report that Cricket, the Burtons fifteen-year-old Cavalier Spaniel, had been helped over the rainbow bridge. Jordan and Christian went to the vet for what sounded like a final decision and last visit, but Jordan insisted she wanted to see Cricket out of the oxygen tent and in an exam room. So they spent an hour watching Cricket walk in circles (she does that all the time), asking to be loved, not coughing, seeming fine. The vet shrugged and said, “Take her home.” So she’s home tonight, and the Burtons are keeping vigil over her. Jordan is exhausted, and even I am tired after being keyed up for the inevitable which turned out not to be after all.

There was sad news today though. I got word that an author who befriended me early in my career, became a good friend as well as a mentor, has died in Arizona. Jeanne Williams, prolific author of over eighty books under a variety of names, was a prominent and active member of Western Writers of America when I joined in the 1970s. Although I knew her principally as the author of historicals set in the American West, she also wrote fiction set in the United Kingdom. As for westerns, she was a pioneer in making women center in western fiction. She served as president of WWA, was an activist for animal rights, and a member of the survival team in her Chiricahua Mountain town of Portal, Arizona. Jeanne stopped actively publishing some ten or fifteen years ago but her books remain on sale from Amazon and other outlets. In a sad way, her passing reminds me how fleeting literary fame can be. She deserved more recognition than she got. I had not been much in touch with her in recent years—her letters had become infrequent and sometimes confusing. A widow, she had lost both her grown children tragically, and I was glad to hear that she was surrounded by love when she passed peacefully. Perhaps her best known title is Harvest of Fury, part of her post-Civil War trilogy set in Arizona.

For me, today was also an upside-down day in the world of taking care of business. For some time, I have been trying to figure out dental insurance. Until two years ago, TCU provided such for retirees; when that stopped, I took out a totally inadequate policy from a company I was told was respectable. I suffered through the first year when policies often pay little, but in the second year I expected better: they paid $73 on a $521 bill. Combine that with what I paid in monthly fees, and I was clearly upside down. But the world of insurance is a bewildering place for the lay person, and I was lost. Colin sent me a list of policies recommended for seniors. First on the list was a company underwritten by the very company I’d had trouble with—no, thanks. But second was Humana, and I have had Humana Medicare since I retired, so I called them. Turns out I have had dental insurance under my general health policy for years. Problem solved so easily I can hardly believe it! Then in an ironic PS I read today in the retirees' newsletter that TCU is about to offer a policy for retirees. When it rains, it pours.

But there’s a downside to my financial day: turns out that when I paid for the tree trimming, I only paid part of the bill, and I still owe a goodly amount for tree removal.

And in puzzling news, someone has twice charged Door Dash deliveries of shakes to my debit card. So I had to cancel the card, and the bank will credit my account and issue a new card. But how in the world did someone get my card number, especially since I rarely use it. I guess I’m lucky whoever used it wasn’t more extravagant.

I’m ready for an early bedtime after the “excitements” of today. Another bonus: It was a beautiful, sunny day in Texas, although a bit chilly. And my granddaughter at UCLA reports she is safe and dry. I’m feeling blessed.

 

Sushi, Sophie, Agatha, and bureaucracy

 

Spicy tuna tower, with sushi rolls
Pretty food

Been a busy couple of days. Jean and Jeannie picked me up last night for sushi supper at Tokyo Café, one of my favorite places. We went early but still waited almost an hour for our dinner—as the server explained, sushi slows everything down, and the kitchen was behind. I had salmon crudo which was good but not enough to eat; Jeannie had some kind of roll—and tried Kirin, a Japanese beer, which she said was terrific; Jean had the prettiest dish of all—a spicy tuna tower. She said it was both spicy and good. Fun to get out for dinner.

Sophie is coughing again. Poor dear started with a few coughs a couple of days go, but I am alert to that sound now and vowed not to let the problem develop. Jordan took her for an allergy shot yesterday, but she’s still had some coughing spells. I think though the steroid did to her what steroids often do to people—hyped her up. She woke me at 4:15, dancing in a manner that says she’s desperate to go out. You always hate to refuse in case she really does need to go, so I got up—and watched her disappear into a far and dark corner of the yard where I cannot see a black dog. She finally came back and lay on the patio, as if ready to begin the day—I enticed her in with treats which she then refused. Five-thirty came too quickly, and she had to go out again. This time I dished up her breakfast, and she reluctantly came in but was not interested in eating. At 6:45 we made one more trip; after that I refused, loved on her, and gently told her to go take a nap. It was nine o’clock before I woke up. Tonight she ate her breakfast, asked for more, doesn’t seem to be coughing. It will be a watchful weekend.

Yesterday was National Cozy Mystery Day, in case you missed it—a day in honor of Agatha Christie’s birthday. Confession: I am not especially a Christie fan; in fact, I’m not a fan of British mysteries, as are so many of my friends. I have enjoyed the two books about Christie’s mysterious temporary disappearance, but I’m not much schooled in her actual mysteries. It makes me feel a bit guilty, as though I am masquerading by calling myself a mystery writer when I don’t have the right credentials. Like those people who fake their academic degrees. Oh, I’ve read some of the books, but a long time ago. I need to buckle down and re-read. Jean particularly recommended the one in which Poirot dies—wonder which book that is?

I rarely diss on businesses or companies, but I’d like to issue a warning here: do not deal with Cigna insurance. Six months ago, when TCU cancelled their dental insurance for retirees, I took out a policy with Cigna. I paid each month, and each month they returned the check to my bank. SO each month I called to find out what was wrong and was given a variety of fixes, like a code on my check, none of which worked. And each month I would get an overdue email statement. This week my bank called and was told I need to put P.O. before Box on the envelope—is not the lamest thing ever? But this week, when both the bank and I talked to Cigna, the representative acted as though I had an active account. A note on my account on the website made me nervous, and I asked my dental office to call. Cigna had cancelled the insurance as of July 1 without notifying me either through a website message or email. Upshot: I have cancelled my dental appointment for next week and applied for new insurance. In retrospect, I think the problem was that I didn’t let Cigna automatically debit my bank account, but I am leery of having many automatic debits. I want to be in control of what happens with my banking.

Now waiting for Jordan to arrive with supper—for me, veal caprese from Macaluso’s just down the street. It was a hectic day, with Jacob playing 36 holes in a golf tournament, and nobody thought about dinner until too late to defrost anything. And Jacob will be in a hurry to get to the Paschal homecoming game. Meantime, I’m hungry!

Happy weekend everyone.