“You Read the Policy?”
“You read the policy?” the insurance lady asked, and I could hear the laughter restrained in her voice.
“Yes, I did. It doesn’t cover much! With all the restriction, the flood insurance has to work together with the high wind insurance, and it seems to me I need to put the majority of my coverage there,” I replied.
“I’ve just never had a customer before who actually read through the policy,” she responded, her voice still bordering on laughter.
She and I get along great. She helped me out when a company refused to insure our Florida house, a year after all the insurance agencies had taken a major battering from an onslaught of hurricane losses.
I hate reading policies. Do you ever read through your credit card agreements before you sign them? Do you read through the restrictions on software before you download it? Do you know what your insurance REALLY covers?
Sometimes the cheapest policy isn’t always the best – it depends on how good they are when you need to make a claim. Even if you read the policies, it isn’t always what-you-see-is-what-you-get. You also need to check a company’s reputation for claims adjustments.
So far, we have been very lucky. We’ve never made a claim on our auto insurance; any accident – and there haven’t been many – have had only small damage, usually covered by the other person. The only accident I have had in the Middle East was when another American woman rear-ended me on the little road into our compound. The only claim we ever made on a house (we came home from a trip to discover a water pipe had broken) was wiped out by the deductible we had chosen, so we didn’t make the claim.
House insurance freaks me out. The power of almighty God is in a hurricane; a beautiful house can be nothing but shards and embers in no time at all. If you own a Florida house, you have to have separate policies for fire, for liability, for high wind (hurricane) and for flood. The total cost of all those insurances is about equal to one house payment. The fact that all my coverages come due during hurricane season works to my agent’s advantage.
You can track any hurricane/tripical storm in the world at Weather Underground.
Colors and Localities
One of the things we joke about, AdventureMan and I, when we come back to the Seattle area, is that all the houses are grey. Some might look brown, but it is a very grey brown. Some might look green, but it is a very grey kind of green. Some houses are purely grey – maybe they have white trim, but they are very very grey. An occasional truly brown house sticks out, anything not toned down by grey sticks out. And oh! now and then someone with a Mediterranean soul will build a pink or terra cotta house with a red tile roof and people will say “Oh! Look at that! They must not be from around here!”
Yesterday, I was in one of my most favorite places, Home Depot, wandering around looking at what the contracters are putting in the newest houses.
“High rise toilets!” I exclaimed to AdventureMan, who was on the phone with me. “For people who are older, and don’t have the strength in their legs to lower themselves too far!”
I was looking to see what was available in small bathtubs, because I love a hot bath on a cold day, and I want a deeper, smaller tub in which I can lean back with a good book, not one of these huge tubs that take all day to fill. I was looking at shower apparatus; I am thinking one day I want to go the European way with those wall flash-heaters that give you hot water when you need it and don’t keep heating it all day when you don’t.
And then I saw the carpet samples. I just had to laugh. When we lived in Florida, I loved walking into the model homes, with their seafoam green carpets, or even a mellow shade of tropical pink. Everything looked so welcoming and laid back.
In the Pacific Northwest, people choose from shades of sand. I never knew there could be so much variation on beige, which is somewhere between white and brown:
To those of you who say that sand isn’t as dark as the darkest brown swatches of carpet, I can only say you have never walked along a Pacific Northwest Beach on a dark and stormy day. Believe me, sand can be very very dark.
Flea Infestation
Here’s the problem. Life doesn’t come with an instruction manual. OK, OK, we have our holy books, and they give us character guidelines. I am talking about specifics here, when life hands you those lemons, how do you make lemonade? Specifically!
When we move to Florida, we thought we were in Paradise. We had a house with a big pool, surrounded by shady trees, families of racoons, beautiful gardens – what’s not to like?
Paradise came with chamaeleons, lizards, cockroaches, even in the best houses. And fleas. We had to learn how to deal with them.
During our first and only flea infestation, at first we blamed the cats. Being a terrible mother, I asked my son to help, and he went into the walk in shower (No! Not naked! He was wearing swimming trunks!) to bathe the cats with anti-flea shampoo. I would get the cat trapped, put the cat in the shower, he would shampoo them, let one out and I would hand him the next one. Both cats loved him the best; he had chosen them from the litter.
When I saw this photo on LOLCATS, I really had to laugh.
see more crazy cat pics
Just so you will know, the solution is to take the cats to the vet and have them treated for fleas professionally. While the cats are at the vets, pour 20 Mule Team Borax over all your carpets and in all your upholstered furniture, let it stand overnight, and vacuum it all up. After you vacuum, bring the cats back. It really works. The borax creates a saline environment in which the fleas (and cockroaches) can’t survive, but it doesn’t hurt pets.
Every Sunset is a Beautiful Sunset
We were walking along Clearwater Beach, in Florida with a couple who had been our friends for years. We have so many stories with this couple, stories that make us all double over in laughter.
There was the time we were dining at a castle in Germany, a very lovely place, and when we ordered dessert, it came . . . chocolate mousse, but carefully placed, a la nouvelle cuisine, and striped with a chocolate syrup. As it was being put before us, we didn’t dare to look at one another. Only when the waiter left did the giggles start, growing into full grown guffaws, as we laughed helplessly.
The mousse looked like dog poop.
My husband was laughing so hard he had trouble breathing for a while. The gales of laughter, the whoops of laughter continued as we remembered the utter shock as the dessert was placed before us. To this day, we still don’t know if this was seriously supposed to be haute cuisine or if it was some kind of German joke. It still makes us roll with laughter thinking of the horrified surprise we each felt, and our fear of laughing in the waiter’s face.
There are other stories, stories funnier to us than they would be to you in the retelling.
Bill had a heart attack earlier in the year. AdventureMan and I were going through career transition issues. It was a time of struggle for both couples, and we were talking about what we were going through as the sun began to set. We all stopped and watched.
“What a beautiful sunset!” AdventureMan said.
There was a pause, as we all watched the last fading rays of the setting sun.
Bill took AdventureMan’s arm and looked at him intensely.
“Every sunset is a beautiful sunset,” he said, and added “when you think you may never see another.”
It changed how we see the sunset. It changed how we see the sunrise. Bill died this last year, having had many more sunsets after our sunset in Florida, and we still miss him grievously.
Beautiful Weird Thanksgiving
This was a beautiful, wierd Thanksgiving for me. It’s one of the very rare Thanksgivings that Adventure Man and I have not been together. He was down in Florida, at an all day eating, playing and visiting fest with our son, our son’s wife and her family. He shucked his first oysters, and was told he had better keep his day job.
I am in Seattle with my Mom, and we went to my best-friend-from-college’s house. It turned out to be one of the sweetest Thanksgivings I have had. As we sat down at the table, my friend said that in her house it is tradition to go around the table and to tell one thing you give thanks for. I found that incredibly moving. You have a glimpse into another person’s heart when you tell what you are thankful for.
And the food! Oh my! All my good resolutions, all my good intentions, down the drain – the food was SO good.
I took some photos to share with you:
The Veggies and the Salmon-Spinach Dip (oh WOW)
Making the world’s most tasty gravy, with fresh sage and thyme:
Carving one of the world’s most perfectly cooked turkeys:
The dining table – just before the carnage:
Thankgiving Invitation
Adventure Man and I will be attending different Thanksgiving Events this year, the first time ever. Here is the invitation to the event he will attend:
Thanksgiving!
•HEAR YE! HEAR YE!
•A THANKSGIVING CELEBRATION IS AT HAND
•A TIME TO GET TOGETHER TO GIVE THANKSGIVING, TO VISIT, TO CELEBRATE AND OF COURSE, TO EAT
•COME ONE AND ALL, COME EARLY TO THE THANKSGIVING CELEBRATION (usually the gathering starts around 9:00am)
•EVERYONE IS WELCOME AND BRING ANYONE YOU CAN GET TO COME ALONG
•COME EARLY, STAY LATE
•WE’LL HAVE THANKSGIVING LUNCH BETWEEN
1:00-1:30 PM
•THERE WILL BE ENOUGH FOOD PREPARED EARLY, IN CASE THE CHILDREN NEED TO EAT
•HOWEVER, THERE WILL BE PLENTY TO SNACK ON BEFORE THE MEALTIME
•KIDS BRING YOUR BATS, SOFTBALLS, KICKBALLS, FOOTBALLS, ROLLER SKATES, BIKES, SCOOTERS, ROPES OR WHATEVER
•Stay and Enjoy the leftovers for supper!!
WHEN: THANKSGIVING DAY, NOVEMBER 22, 2007
(Oh what fun!)
Bedbug Renaissance Inn
We had just come back to Germany from our son’s graduation from law school, and woke up the next morning with welts – we didn’t know what they were. All we knew is suddenly, we had red itchy welts, and I was allergic to whatever they were.
We were lucky – we got in to see a doctor right away, and he told us what they were and what to do, and we did it and we never had another problem. He also told us that he was seeing this problem more and more – that many hotels have extra guests they never tell you about, even the very best hotels. (Our poor kitty – we had blamed her, we thought maybe she had brought in fleas, and it wasn’t her at all, it was hitch-hikers from Florida.)
What we learned from this truly awful experience is that bedbug infestations are happening everywhere. It’s something no one talks about out of shame, but with DDT off the market, and increasingly warm climates, they are on the increase.
To this day, I wash my sheets in hot hot water, and dry them on hot. And I think twice when I say to children, as is common in the USA “sleep tight, and don’t let the bed bugs bite!”
From AOL News:
(Nov. 7) – First come the bites, amazingly itchy, raised red welts that appear, literally, overnight. Then, you might notice scarlet spots on your sheets from smashed bugs or perhaps clusters of little black dots that you assume are dirt but are in fact constellations of fecal matter.
And one day, you might wake up in the wee hours of the morning, flip on the lights and find red bugs, slightly bigger than ticks, crawling on your sheets, pillows and legs.
Welcome to the most retro pest of the 21st century, the bedbug. The bugs, which were thought to be wiped out by powerful pesticides such as DDT 30 years ago, are back and infesting major urban areas, suburbia and the heartland.
You can read the entire horrifying story at AOL Health News.
USA Today’s List of How to Cope with a Bedbug Infestation:
Coping With Bedbugs: Advice From Experts
The best rule of thumb for dealing with bedbugs? Try not to get them in the first place.
Otherwise, read on:
Be careful where you put your suitcase when you travel. “These guys are fantastic hitchhikers,” says the University of Maryland’s Michael Raupp. “If you have a luggage rack with metal racks, put your suitcase on that.”
Check behind a hotel headboard. That’s one of their favorite spots, Raupp says. Pull back the comforter and sheets and look for the fecal stains on the mattress seams and ticking. Shine a penlight behind the headboard and look for dark fecal stains.
If you do wake up with red welts, assume the worst. “At that point, when you go home, all laundry goes into a trash bag outside, and then right into a washing machine on a hot cycle, and then a clothes dryer,” says the University of Kentucky’s Michael F. Potter. “As little as five or 10 minutes kills everything on high heat. Cold will not kill the eggs and not all the adults.”
Don’t pull mattresses and dressers off the street. Steer clear of yard sales or flea markets. And don’t ever buy used bedding.
If you do get them, don’t use a bomb or spray, which will only scatter them through your home. “Find a good pest-control company. This is not one where you buy bug spray and battle it yourself,” Potter says.
In many cases, pros suggest getting rid of your box spring and mattress, or if you can’t, using a bug-proof zippered mattress cover that traps the buggers inside for at least a year.
Source: USA Today
She Did Everything Right
When I was a little girl growing up in Alaska, we had neighbors who lived just across the creek. Our neighbors had a daughter 6 years older than me; she was my first babysitter. Growing up, those six years made all the difference – we didn’t know one another as friends, the gap was too great. Our families were very close, however, and when my parents would go to parties at her parents house, they would take us and put us to bed in her bed.
I saw her now and then through the years, but our lives were in different places. When I was just getting married, she had big boys, by the time my son was a teenager, hers were getting married and going to college. We reconnected in Florida, of all places, where we both ended up at the same time due to our husband’s jobs.
Having our Alaska childhood in common, having grown up together and knowing each other’s family through all the years created a strong bond. We saw each other often; she was like a big sister to me.
She always had it all together. She had a group that bicycled together every morning, and then had outings later in the day. She was a fitness buff, and ran in the mornings before she bicycled. She kept herself thin, and she loved to cook, but she could eat what she wanted because she exercised it all off.
She was a reader, and would pass along the really good books to me. She and her husband were also news buffs, so when we would get together with our husbands, there was never a dull moment at the dinner table.
She and her husband were sent to Egypt, and to Rumallah, and to China, and they made the most of every minute. They loved traveling, they loved their sailing boat, they loved their family. They would come to visit us in our places of the world, and we would have great reunions. They were so alive.
She could be annoying. She would chide me about not exercising enough. She would comment on how much food people ate. She always knew the latest in medical research to back herself up. She kept her mind active, and she kept her weight down. She exercised, she travelled, she took care of her parents, she did good works for others. She did everything right.
A couple years ago, we joined her and her husband for dinner. She hadn’t combed her hair. She weighed about 20 lbs more, and didn’t seem to notice. She couldn’t remember the last book she had read, and she couldn’t remember her recent trip to Mexico, or an earlier one to Spain.
It’s been downhill since then. Her loving husband is strong and able to care for her, this once-beautiful, sprite-like, spirited woman. I think she still knew me, when I saw her last summer, but she can no longer really express what she is thinking. She is restless, up and down from the table, and not able to participate in the conversation.
I am haunted. I am so much like her; I tried to live up to all that she has taught me. A part of me wants to scream at God “This isn’t fair! She did everything right!”
Perhaps doing everything right gave her a few extra years, and I am just not seeing things from the right perspective. Meanwhile, I get no answers, and my heart breaks when I think of her.
Kitchen Before and After
Wooo Hoooooooo! The ugly kitchen is gone! The new kitchen is finished!
Before:
After:
The Arab Way
My husband and I were very young when we first came to live in the Middle East, back to back embassy assignments, first in Tunisia, and then in Jordan. Before those assignments, we had spent two years learning about the culture, and my husband spoke Arabic and I spoke French. It didn’t matter. We were still woefully ignorant. (And we are still learning!)
People would call us, asking for favors, especially visas and getting their kids into U.S. colleges. We would look at each other in astonishment. How could they think their kids could get into college without passing the tests? How did they think their cousin could get into pilot training when there were other, better qualified candidates? And we learned, that with the right connections, exceptions are made.
We got smarter. We were travelling back in Germany, and wanted to stay in military lodging, but all the rooms were taken. We decided to go get something to eat, and at dinner, I said to my husband “let’s try doing it the Arab way.” He looked at me and said “Whaaaaaattt?”
“Take your orders that say we are with the embassy and on special leave” I told him. “Tell them we just got in, and just need a place for tonight.”
“But they don’t have any rooms!” Adventure Man protested.
“They always hold rooms back for special circumstances, for pilots, for emergencies,” I countered. “Make us special.”
We finished dinner, and felt better with our blood sugars back up. Adventure Man became his charming persona, and we went back to the hotel. He was inside for a bare two minutes, and came back out grinning, and holding a key.
We have learned an important lesson. Yes, there are policies. Yes, there are rules. Yes, there are the way things are done, customs, traditions, inviolable.
But there are also exceptions, and they are based on personal relationships.
Our insurance company told us they would no longer insure our Florida house, too much risk exposure in Florida. We went to a lot of trouble to try to meet a guideline that would allow us to be an exception – to no avail. Yesterday, I spent an hour on the phone with one person who was persistently pleasant in telling me it was not possible. I told her that telling me what a great customer I was, and how they valued our loyalty didn’t ring true when they would abandon us after all our years of being good customers. I didn’t blame her, personally, but neither was I buying all this pleasant stuff, when the bottom line was money, not loyalty.
I hung up the phone with a huge pit in my stomach – this cloud, this worry has hung over my head all summer, and now my worst fears had come true and I would have to seek new, less reliable, insurance. But I decided to put it off until tomorrow, no point trying to do something when you feel really depressed.
Late last night, we were in those early hours of dead-drooling sleep, the phone rang, and it was the insurance representative calling us back. Four hours after our phone call, the phone call which had been “the final answer” she was calling me back to say she had found a way, and our policy was being re-instated.
Thanks be to God! The Arab way worked, even though I wasn’t consciously using the Arab way, probably my thinly veiled anger and frustration and bottom line TERROR had gotten through to her. I thought it was over, but God was working behind the scenes, and a miracle happened.
We are still learning; we still have a lot to learn, and living in this culture helps us continue learning a new tools, additional strategies, for our tool box.
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