The phone rings.
“Please stay on the line for a message from your doctor.”
Sounds important, but I’ve just taken two telemarketing calls. Just in case, I hold on.
“This is a message from the Arizona Wellness Clinic for Women. We have a message for Robin Olson. At your convenience, please call 480—“
Crap! I need a pen. What was that number?
“Please have your social security number available. Once again, the number is 480—“
Ok, so I’ve been to the doctor lately and had tests run. This must be legit. I wonder what’s up. Why wouldn’t they just call me? Oh well. I hang up and dial the number.
“You have reached the Arizona Wellness Clinic for Women patient information line. Please enter your social security number now.”
I enter it.
“Thank you. To hear your message in English, please press one.”
I don’t even wait for the other options.
“Thank you. In order to replay your message, we need to make a recording of your full name. Please state your full name after the tone. Beep!”
“Thank you. Please stay on the line while we retrieve your message…This message is for Robin Olson. This is name of technician I’ve never hear of—we’ve gotten the test results for your blah blah blah tests. Everything was normal.”
That’s it? All of that to tell me I’m fine? Why didn’t they just call? I wonder how much that system costs…
Thursday, May 08, 2008
When Nick comes inside from anywhere, he takes off his socks and shoes. He just likes to be barefoot inside. He also doesn't like shoes on the couch or beds, so when Ivy's inside, most of the time, her shoes and socks come off too. Naturally, this necessitates putting shoes on when we've been home and then decide to go somewhere. Ivy seems to understand this.
She LOVES to be outside. She's tall enough to reach the door knob, so it's locked all the time now. She'll go up to the door, try to turn the handle and say "side" when she wants to go outside (which is all the time). When she sees one of us putting our shoes on, she naturally goes to the door and says "side".
Yesterday, Nick took Ivy out to the pool for a while before I got home from work. They put their feet in the pool and splashed a bit, but no real swimming (water is still cold). When I got home, they were back inside, shoes off.
Ivy wasn't quite done being outside for the day. She kept going to the door and saying "side". She'd bring us her shoes and try to open the door, but we just said no, and continued doing whatever we were doing. After a while, Ivy changed her strategy. She started up the stairs. We noticed this and decided to wait and see what she was up to. After a while, we heard a thud...then another...then "side". Immediately, we knew what she was doing.
She has several favorite toys. When she's downstairs, she likes to have them with her, but she can't carry them down the steps by herself. They usually get thrown down, one set of steps at a time. But it wasn't toys she was throwing--it was daddy's shoes. This was her not so subtle way of saying she fully expected to go outside if shoes could be put on. After getting them down the stairs by herself, we figured she deserved to go out again.
Friday, May 02, 2008
The insane heat is on it's way. At this early May date, our high today is only 85 (that's still too hot for May) but last weekend, we reached 100--a reminder of the horrid desert climate that I've managed to somehow imerse myself into.
I meet new people all the time--mostly at work. They come from nice cold states like Wisconsin and Massachusetts and say things like, "Oh, it feels sooooo good here." I can't help myself from raining on their proverbial parade. It won't for long. The heat will come. With a vengence. Heat like you've never felt it before. Of course, then they say they'd rather be hot--they can take the heat. Not me! I'll take a blizzard over a heat wave any day. Then, I get a quizzical look and this question: "What are you doing here?" Excellent question. I have no idea!