I don't want to be morbid, I don't want to dwell, but what has always been my favorite Jewish holiday is starting to depress me. The RLA has, since we've been a couple, hated Passover, because his mother died right after the seder.
My father first realized that he had a problem when he was at my house for Passover, and felt his enlarged pancreas as he lay in bed. And this year, because Passover comes so late, it coincides with the anniversary of his death.

Shortly after he died, I asked one of my friends if I had always talked about him so much, or if this was something new, brought on by his passing.

She assured me that, no, I had always talked about my father, I only heard myself do it now.

Last year was the first time my dad skipped a seder. He just couldn't go. This year is the first time that I haven't held one for my family of friends. The bank account can't support it, the RLA isn't feeling well enough to endure it, and, quite honestly, I just can't drag myself into the kitchen for the extended frenzy of cooking that it usually entails.

We'll be going to R&MJ's, where the doors will be flung open for their extended family and family of friends, as well as Elijah. RJ is graciously allowing me to bring two dishes: Sephardic eggs and a Persian Haroset. Both recipes can be found in the ever-reliable Joan Nathan's Jewish Holiday Cooking.

On another note, I have spent the day fighting with my Bernina and my laptop, trying to make them communicate with one another. It entailed a trip to the store to buy a usb to serial cable converter, any number of reboots, several downloads from the Bernina site and finally, just before ANTM, my computer announced that, although it could see the Bernina, since the embroidery module was not attached, the design could not/would not be passed to the machine.

I cried Uncle, and went off to watch the dreary Tatiana get sent home. Have I mentioned that I'm starting to really like Michael/Michelle?

That was no bus, that was The Coolest Person In The World TM. It was her last night in town, and the first chance we had to get together. Needless to say, we drank too much, we ate too much and we had too much fun.
The RLA said it was a case of Thelma and Louise. I say, no, more like Patsy and Edina.

I got to bed at six in the morning, and I am proud to say that I was still able to get up and drive her to the airport a mere four and a half hours later. I still have it. Or I still have a functioning liver. Take your pick, sweetiedarlings.

I also have a new job. Don't expect me to be blogging it, though, there was a very specific notice in the hiring papers. It's only part time, so as not to cut into my gym time, or my sewing time, and it's only five minutes from my house. The dress code is jeans, and it involves something I truly love (hint, hint: fruit-named computers). I could not be any happier if I tried.

Last night my girl Tiffany got sent home from ANTM. This was a terrible blow to me because the week before, my other favorite, Lluvy, got sent home. Why don't they send home the chick with the Village of the Damned eyes, or the one with no lips?
This has to be the worst season yet for America's Next Top Model. Not one of those twits could read a teleprompter, and not one of them could pronounce Hermes.

Now, I'm just sayin', but if you were trying to be a top model, wouldn't you be studying things like Vogue magazine, or Harper's Bazaar? Wouldn't you? Maybe watch Style tv. Things like that.

Was it one or two weeks ago where none of the girls had a clue what haute couture was? If I were Tyra, Mr. Jay and the wonderfully over the top Miss Janice Dickenson, I would have cancelled the season at that moment and sent the whole ratty pack of them home.

And speaking of ratty, what's up with the whole look of the pack when they come in for judging? Can't one of them use a hairbrush or a little mascara? Especially that drunk girl, Brittany. She looks like she's just rolled in from a hard night and an early morning walk of shame, every single week.

Even Michael/Michelle is doing better than that. Sort of. I think that the show, having treated her to its nasty bleach blonde makeover, should at least keep her roots up for her. Or just give up on her being an ice queen and go for a jet black, Betty Page look for her. I think that would have been a little easier for her to work with.

Working with brings up the whole acting class sequence. Michael/Michelle kept saying that she'd had four years of drama. I'm beginning to think that was personal drama and not actually acting classes.

And finally, Noxema, the Cover Girl of the Week in perpetuity. She really rubs me the wrong way. I can't tell you why, whether it's the Meg Tilly brown facial lumps, or the lame ass mohawk, or the smug little way she wins every competition, but I just don't like her and I don't want her to win.

So there. If you want a better analysis, go to Television Without Pity.

Having gotten Tante Leah's Handmades on the web, and having printed up some business cards, today I went to the store where I buy all my high-end silks, and asked to put up a sample and my cards.

The proprietor said yes. Now all I have to do is hope that the commissions start to roll in.

In the meantime, the two I have in hand are sitting on my sewing table. Tomorrow I plan to start cutting and sewing.

I'm excited. This could be the start of something big. It is certainly the start of something new. I've always wanted to be "just an artist" and not a corporate hack, and I'm stepping out on that path.

Wish me luck.

That stands for Consolidated Omnibus Budget Reconciliation Act and is the law that allows workers who lose their jobs to keep their health insurance. And these days, that would be me.

Let me tell you how it works.
I can, if I choose, keep my current coverage. The only difference anyone will see is me, who now has to pay 100% of the costs, instead of splitting the cost with my employer. That means, for a family of two, with not the best policy, but a good policy, and a Point of Service plan, not a true HMO, I am now expected to pay $1,400 a month. That's more than my mortgage.

My unemployment benefits are the maximum allowed by law, and pitiable. They don't even come close to paying that premium. And I have to pay income taxes on the unemployment benefits, to boot.

But back to COBRA. I had about ten days to decide whether or not to take the plan. I had about ten days to pay the bill, when it came.

My old employer, on the other hand, had two months to send me the paper work, and they took every damned day of it. That meant that when I finally got to say "Sign me up" for COBRA, I was now a month in arrears. My first bill was for more than three thousand dollars, and that would take us up to May.

So I paid it. Promptly. Don't want to be caught without insurance, now, do we. Because, you know, with health care in the state it's in, and the costs for it so high, one serious illness or accident could bankrupt a person. Or it could if the Republicans hadn't just made bankruptcy harder. Anyway, I paid it in full.

Then I went to get my prescriptions filled. And the pharmacist told me I no longer have insurance. "But I paid," I wailed. Yep. I did. But COBRA now has up to two months to get me reregistered, during which time, I am expected to pay in full, out of pocket. Once the insureance company gets around to reinstating me, then I can try to get reimbursed from them.

Did you follow all that? I had two weeks to elect to remain covered and get my check in the mail, and they have two months to dick me around.

When I complained to the COBRA rep and tried to get the computer to list me as covered, the rep told me that yes, I was paid up, but the letter of the law allows the insurance company so much time to reinstate me. There was nothing they could do to help me. There was nothing I could do to help myself. I was shit out of luck.

If the meds I needed were life-saving, like a chemo drug, then the company rep could have made an emergency override. But these are just drugs I take for chronic depression, so it wasn't an emergency. Wait two months until I'm on a roof someplace threatening to jump, or take someone with me, and then they can put the emergency request in. Welcome to the system.

The compassionate conservative system of being outsourced, unemployed, uninsured (although, technically I am insured) and being tossed less a living wage to get by.

Bite me.

I did it. I put up the new, improved Girlyshoes. There are new links over there on your left. One goes to the RLA's portfolio where you can look at his work, or even (GASP!) purchase some. Ditto for the link to Tante Leah's Handmades.
Off the front page you can even visit my photo blog, where in I ridicule people in a manner like that of the Fug Girls, and post photos of (what else?) shoes and other stuff that I see and tell you all about, and you all think I make this shit up.

Oh, the humanity.