Legal Troubles

As most of you know I'm currently being sued, and though I cannot discuss the details of the case with others I feel I can at least share with you the frustration of it all.

Recently (within the past 2 weeks) I was asked to answer some questions for the plaintiffs legal team (I am the defendant). I did this and got it back to them in a very timely manner and I was told that they would email me a final copy to look over sign and return.  Well time passed and the due date of 11/27/07 was quickly approaching and I hadn't received anything so on Monday morning (11/26) I emailed the law office asking where this was. Come to find out that the secretary was told to email the information to me but instead she mailed it. So yesterday (the due date) I finally get something emailed to me I had to go to a stupid bank (I hate banks) to get it notarized and had to deal with an idiotic asian woman who was just making me angry by her very existence and the attitude she was giving me because I didn't have cash to pay her $5 so I had to write a check. After getting the paper they told me to sign notarized and dealing with the rude people at the bank and spending MY money I dropped it off at the law office because the deadline was November 27th and it was their stupid fault that it was late because I told them 2 weeks ago to email me the forms and the legal secretary MAILED them.

 THEN we had to drive home in the snow that took us 1.5 hours and when we got home there was a message on the answering machine from the insurance company of the car in front of us asking for our insurance company information and basically stating that they're coming after us because this was OUR fault. So john had to call state farm and tell them AGAIN that this was not our fault and go over the whole accident AGAIN for their records and the dumb ass who hit us hasn't even reported this to the insurance company yet.

While he was doing that I got the mail and in the mail was a package from the lawyers office that had what I thought was the same thing they had emailed me earlier and that I had signed and returned. Well this package was much thicker and so opened it up and it was completely different then what was sent to me earlier. The back page that they told me to print off and return was COMPLETELY different then what I had just paid $5 for and I got really angry. I am really angry. So I had to call Rachel at work and tell her to bring her Notary stamp home so I could just get it done last night and I didn't have to let it fester all day today and go through this all again.

So the stupid legal secretary's mistake added to State Farms stupidity and all the stress I'm dealing with and the pain in my knee all bubbled up to the surface in a bawling rage fit that lasted 2 hours and I just don't understand what I ever did to deserve this horrible life I've been given and I'd rather just stay in bed with a blanket over my head then to have to deal with the world around me.

And then to top it all off I was 45 minutes late to work today because all the idiots in Davis County don't know how to drive even though it snows EVERY YEAR!! and now my system isn't working so I can only do half my work and can't print anything. I'm done, and I just want to go home.

After sending a very professional business email to the law offices telling them of my frustration I did get a personal call from my lawyer to apologize for the mistake and saying that this should have never happed in his office and that he was so sorry that I had to deal with this. Now they are sending a runner to my work to pick up the second paper so I don't have to make ANOTHER trip out to their office. I'm still angry, but that helps a little.

Too Good Not To Share

I heard from another sister missionary today about certain things I have said on my blog in the past. I informed her of my blog in a mass email of the "2007 Getting to Know You" that I sent to some missionary friends today. She was kind enough to write me back and share her feelings with me and I would like to share them with the rest of you. Her name has been removed and there is a little language (fair warning) but here it is:

Hey Liz, well the comment about writing about hating certain missionaries made me curiously check your blog, and I am sorry but I have to say....I hated those sisters too. Especially Norman who was just an all out fake bitch, and Stringham...who was the sister who decided to make it her mission to get me sent home. I have however forgiven Stringy since then because I found that she got depressed and lonely and couldn't get out of bed at one point as a sister either.

Also, as for people always asking you about a baby....people don't seem to bother me with that....but I want to say that I think it is one of the most insensitive and idiotic questions a person could ask. Why do people think that is any of their business?

Well I guess that is all...since I am not a blogger yet I couldn't comment directly on the blogs. Oh, and the person that commented that you were rude is I think that annoying sister missionary that is like in love with President Wade, and her mission in general so I wouldn't feel too bad.

I wish I could have kitties, but they make me sneeze, Love ya

Gingers

I had to laugh really hard the other day when I read this on another blog especially because of the context and what it was referring to, but I thought it entertaining enough to share:

“For those of you who have seen the episode of South Park where Cartman gives a report on gingers (aka: Kyle) then you know that a ginger is a person with red hair and freckles and they are creepy and evil. They suffer from gingivitis and their pale skin comes from having no soul. It's a great episode! If you haven't seen it, it's in season 9.”

I have been trying to convince John for years that I would like a little girl named Margaret. - Not to mention that my grandmothers name was Margaretta - However, he is adamant that we not have a Margaret because all he thinks of is a little red headed snotty brat (thanks to Dennis the Menace). And I had mentioned to my middle sister that I liked the name, and she said almost the same exact thing.
So when I came across this statement about South Park I had to laugh because this is the embodiment of all that my husband thinks of redheads.
I have had a lot of redheads come and go in my life. My bosom friend was a redhead until her hair color got the better of her and she turned on me. But I have others who have not changed. Some are still jerks like they had been since 4th grade, and still there are other’s who have endeared themselves to me for one reason or another and I still call them friend.

Does the paleness of their skin really spawn from having no soul? That’s cool. I had never looked at it that way.

Pondering

Maybe hate is a strong word. I have been thinking over the past few weeks, and I guess saying I hate fat people is rather harsh, I think the term I'm really looking for here is “fat people make me terribly uncomfortable.” I have plenty of fat friends, I myself am what the medical world terms as obese even though I only weigh 218lbs, and I associate with several grossly obese people on a daily basis and I may in fact love a few of these people but I worry that I’m going to find them dead one day.
It’s those morbidly obese people that really get to me. How can one get themselves into such a state and not absolutely hate everything about themselves. I have a hard time being the size I am and I have horrors about being any bigger. I literally burst into tears when getting dressed some mornings because this outfit fit fine last week but now the buttons wont do up. Or the fact that I have shoes that don’t fit because my feet have gotten too fat. Did you know I couldn’t wear my wedding ring for 2 years because my finger was too fat. I hate having my picture taken because it just reminds me that I used to have a pointy chin and my smile used to look a lot bigger. I just don’t get it.
Maybe I just don’t understand how someone pushing 300 or 400 pounds can have such an overly happy personality and not just wish they were skinny. Or why it is that they don’t just hide in their houses, because that’s what I do. I guess maybe inside they do and they over compensate personality wise by being chipper and perky when really inside they just want to die. I know that feeling too.

My creative writing teacher once told me that Love and Hate are so closely related the only way to really hurt someone is to be indifferent.

the worlds most insensitive question

There are a lot of these types of questions, however at this point in my life the question is:

So when are you and John going to have kids?

I don’t know if this question is causing me to fester and rot this week because it’s “that time of the month” or maybe because John’s best friend & wife just had another baby or maybe it’s because the nice lady who sits beside me at work asked the forbidden question on a bad day... who knows, but for one or all of these reasons I have been filled with rage.

I have my off the cuff answers to this question. “John and I just aren’t ready for kids” “I’m too selfish” “We can’t afford kids” “I want to stay at home with my kids and we just can’t do that right now” or the one that people are the most impressed with “When John and I can afford to feed ourselves then we can work on feeding someone else”

All good excuses, but overcome-able if the need arose. The fact is: I am currently unable to have children. I guess I could just say that and make the person feel stupid for asking, but I do have a little common courtesy so I just give them the lie. But each and every time that question is asked I acquire more rage and it stacks on top of all the rage from the last time someone asked and one day when they least expect it I’m going to pop and someone is going to be very sorry, maybe me, maybe them, who knows.

But I have been such a raging beast this week and it seems that every little thing is getting on my nerves and poor John gets the brunt of it. Poor John. For the first few days I couldn’t figure out why I was so angry, but the other night as I was lying in a bubble bath, prepared by my cute husband who just wanted to make me happy, I thought about the week and what’s going on and pondering why I feel like I just want to cover my head and cry and/or kill someone, it hit me like lightening. I was fine until I was asked “the question” and then got the “we had a baby” email on the same day. Grrr.

And it’s not like I CAN’T have children, it just in my current health state it’s not an option. According to my doctor she says that if I continue to lose weight my body should regulate itself and everything should be fine... would, should, might all not very comforting words to hear from a doctor, but it doesn’t change the fact that I want a baby now. And what if I lose all this weight and I still have problems, what if I don’t ever get to have my own babies and adoption is way too expensive. I’m tired of other people’s children.

I guess that maybe I should just be thankful that after all these years I have finally found some doctors who believe there is something wrong with me and are doing something about it.

To Answer Your Question:

Am I having a Halloween Party this year? No.
Why? Because I don’t feel like it.
I have had all the parties at my house for the last 5 years. Canadian Thanksgiving, Halloween, Christmas, New Years, Birthdays, Game Night, Movie Night, Fondue Night, etc. etc... It seems that to our friends we are the hub of social interaction. For the most part that has been just fine and I don’t mind because if people are coming to my house I don’t have to go to theirs. This way if I’m “done” I can either kick them out, or just go to bed and not lie my way out of doing something because I’d rather just be in my own home.

Don’t get me wrong, this doesn’t make me a bad person or mean that I don’t like hanging out with family or friends, it is just the fact that I think if something is going to happen or if I should die I’d just rather be in my own home and not somewhere else – Paranoia? Yes, most likely.

But this year all holidays thus far have been blown off because there’s really no one around to invite. Two friends have wives and children and in-laws and families of their own. One friend and his wife moved to another state. Another friends just thinks he’s better then us now and doesn’t want to hang out. Our single girl-friend is just a flake, but she always has been, and says she’ll come but then doesn’t. Then there is my friend who is only available once every couple of weeks because he works like 18 jobs and has a social life. So that’s it. And I always invite my sister, but she doesn’t come either.

I’ve given up. I’m to tired to host parties anymore, but now I feel bad for my husband who thrives on social interaction and I’m denying him. I know when I married him, I married his friends, but at the time I wasn’t expecting depression, chronic fatigue, and asthma to rule my life.

When Frustrated....

Bake Cinnamon Rolls:

This was supposed to be my Sunday morning. You know, the ones where you wake up around 10 and realize you're late for Stake Conference but you didn't want to go anyway so you just go back to sleep...

Well this morning I got up around 9:30 and consciously decided I didn't want to go so I checked my email and my blog and was prepared to go about my day - but I got really pissed off really early this morning. Spurring scathing blog posts and inspiring me to do something. Since I do still have morals and standards going out and destroying people and things don't really fall on my list of things I can do, so as a pears child I have the desire to move furniture and/or clean - but since I did that yesterday because people were supposed to be coming over to my house Sunday night I decided to bake.

Did you know that Grandma Mc's recipe's never fail.

Commenting on Comments ~

Again a judgmental comment from someone who is to good to even leave a name.

I am no different now then I was then and if you think differently then you really didn't know "Sister Pears".
I had 13 companions. 6 I loved. 1 I had twice. 1 I am indifferent towards and 5 I hated and made no secret about it.
It’s because of people who judge me and think they know me that I find it very hard to wake up for church on Sunday mornings.
Don’t get me wrong here. I always had a respect for the District Leaders and Zone Leaders leaders I was able to serve with, and here in post-mission life there is only one District Leader I respect enough and adore enough that his opinion would even come close to counting, but all things considered no one really knows what happens behind closed doors.
I had companions that were so awful to me that I literally hated myself by the time we were separated and many times I had money in my account to just go home because I hated everyone so much. I have had my faith and my self image shaken to the very core by missionaries that were supposed to be serving the Lord not belittling their companions.
For the larger part of my mission I hated it. I hated everyone around me and everything about it. Did you know that? Did you ever look me in the eye and ask how my companionship was and if I was happy? Did you ever sit in the closet and cry with me because I had been told for the thousandth time that I was a terrible missionary? Were you in the car with me when a certain sister insulted me and then just walked away like she was the better of the two? Were you in my president interviews where I would ask if I could just go home or have a new companion? Were you?
I have always had the same opinion about these people that has not changed. I have not changed. Perhaps life experience has made me more bitter towards the outside world and opened my eyes to the fact that people are generally rotten to the core and then there are those rare ones who can sit and listen to an opinion and just take it as an opinion. I'm not spouting gospel doctrine here. Just because I have my opinion doesn't always mean I'm right, but the last I checked I was living in America where I have a inalienable right to say what I think.

Walk a mile in my shoes. You might find that life isn't peaches and cream for all of us.

People I Miss

There is a silly saying that I hear often that kind of goes like this:

There are people who come into your life and leave, but the foot prints they leave on your heart will never go away.

I have found that to be a very true saying. I have several people who have come and gone and I haven't cared a bit, but there are other's who my heart aches for. These are just a few. If there was something I wanted to say to you, It would be this:

Dear Friend,

I just want you to know that I love you, and I miss you terribly. I hope that life has treated you well, and I hope that sometimes you think of me and wonder how I am, as I think of you all the time. I hope you are well and that nothing terrible is going on in your life, but if there is I want you to know that you are always in my prayers. I hope you grow stronger from your trials and I hope that you are a better person because of what life has taught you and what you have been through. I know I have been through a lot of crap since I saw you last, and I think I have become a better person because of it, but I also know that it has heightened a dark side of me that makes me long for happier times, like when I was with you. I want to apologize for all the times I may have been a jerk to you. I do that sometimes when I am feeling smothered or betrayed or like I can't be any closer to you because that will just hurt more when it all ends. I'm so sorry. I am also a horrible person to try to keep in touch with. I never call back and I rarely answer emails. I want you to know that when I get your emails I am happy that you still remember me and that you're still alive. I do read them. Yes, there are some of you that I miss more then other's but that doesn't mean I love you any less. I love all of you in different ways that are close to my heart. I'm sorry if I ever belittled you or if I have hurt you in anyway. I hope you can forgive me and just love me for who I was when I was with you, but I'd also like you to love me for who I am now. Remember all the times when it was you and me and we had so much fun together and how life always seemed so safe and innocent. Remember those late night talks, or those district meetings or those p-day rendezvous or the hikes in the mountains or holding hands while we fell asleep. I remember everything and I remember how much I loved you and how much I still do. Remember the poems I would write for you, or the songs on your answering machine. I would draw pictures for you and of you and I had thought I would always be with you, but for some reason you're gone and I can't change that or go back and ask you not to leave. I know I have been a jerk to and I may have done something that was hurtful or unforgivable and I am so sorry. So very sorry.

This letter seems to be going on long enough and I think I'm starting to sound more depressed then I need to. Needless to say there are so many of you that I love and miss and I wish you a happy life. I hope for you to find joy in every day. If one day we talk and if one day you remember we were friends I'll be waiting for you with open arms.

Yours Forever,

Liz

Don't Judge Me

most days I'm not so bitter and all is well in my world with it's black sky and shades of gray highlights. Sometimes the stars come out.
However, today I was reminded of the fact that there are stupid people in the world. People who think they're so much better then me and so selfrightious and stuck on themselves.
How dare someone come to my blog and tell me what I can and cannot say about things. I have a right to my own opinion and I can have opinions about people that other's may not agree with. Does that make me a horrible human being? I would be a horrible human being if I added that person to my hit list and followed through with my plan of ridding the world from all stupid people. But then... I'd be the only one left and that would be lonely.
So to you "Hermana" who thinks you're so much better then me. You're not.
Thank you. Drive through.

okay, you can't just leave it at that....

At the behest of a friend further details are in order...

I have to set this story up by first saying that it was a mission experience, and not a very good one.
I was on the 6 month stretch of going home and I was serving in Falls Church Virginia I had a companion named Sister Wilson, who I didn’t like very much at all. She was a lazy sister who didn’t do much work and mostly sat around the apartment whining about an Elder who she “loved” (the funniest part was when he, after being home for a few weeks, wrote her and told her he was marrying someone else and she only had a few more weeks to go before she also went home... Oh No!) I was Sister Wilson’s last companion, she had 6 weeks left when I joined her in Falls Church. And then there were our roommates who were: Sister Norman who I also didn’t like much and she was also very lazy and she would sit on the living room floor and eat out of a GIANT tub of cheese puffs every time I would see her. (Sister Norman and Sister Wilson were friends.) Then there was Sister Norman’s companion Sister Stringham. Sister Stringham was sweet. She was a “greenie” meaning she was in her first area and had only been out for a few weeks. She had an annoying habit of constantly picking at split ends which in it’s own way would drive me crazy. She and I ended up working together A LOT because the other two sister’s needed to be together.
But that has nothing to do with fat people or my story so we’ll move on.
One of the only days of the week I could get Sister Wilson to do anything was on Thursdays which was our service day. For service we would go shopping for a woman in the ward named Sister Day. She was house bound and couldn’t do it herself. Why you ask? Because she was HUGE. She lived in a tiny little apartment that smelled of kitty litter and old paper. She had tons of bookshelves lined with romance novels and piles of romance novels on the floor. There were stacks of old news paper and TV Guides. It was a ground floor apartment that was kind of laid out like this – The front door opened into the living room which was a large open shaped like an L. Looking straight ahead from the door you looked into the TV/sitting area of the living room. Looking to the right you looked towards the back of the apartment which had the kitchen, a dining area, 1 bedroom, and a bathroom. Just a note: since she was such a LARGE woman she couldn’t get to the door to let you in so the front door was always unlocked and she’d just holler “come in” or for us we’d just knock and walk in because she was always on the couch and knew we were coming, and the windows were always open.
Each week she’d have her shopping list ready for us and we’d hop in our car and drive to the nearest grocery store which was the Food Lion in Arlington to do her shopping for her. This list included various grocery items but it always included 10 cans of wet cat food (because apparently her cat’s couldn’t eat dry food), 2 lbs of peanuts for her to feed the squirrels that congregated outside her kitchen window, and 4 loafs of bread to feed the birds that fought the squirrels that congregated outside her kitchen window.
We also would take her a copy of the Relief Society message on Sunday nights. Well, one of these Sunday nights we stopped by Sister Day’s apartment to drop off her lesson. We knocked and walked in. “Sister Day!” we called to no response “Sister Day?” then looking to the right there she was in the bathroom sitting upon the toilet. “Sister Day?” we called one more time. But there was no answer. I looked at Sister Wilson and asked do you think she’s okay? And Sister Wilson said “She’s probably asleep.” So we backed out of the apartment and went about our evening vowing we’d go back in the morning and see her.
The next morning the first thing we did was go to Sister Days to pass along the Relief Society lesson and on the way there we joked about ‘what if she’s still in the same place?’ Lots of what-if’s.
Low and behold we got there and I was the first to walk into her apartment. Now picture this as a scene from a horror movie where the camera focus’ on all the little things before it shows you the terror lurking just out of site.
I walked in and did a slow motion scan of the room. I’m sure it was only a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity. The Cats were missing, the cat bowls were empty, there was an abundance of flies and there was silence. I turned and looked to where I had last seen Sister Day and there she was. From the way the toilet was situated, being such a big lady she couldn’t close the door while in the bathroom. So from the front door you could see her legs, large belly and most of her left arm. That’s what I remember from the night before. But this time I noticed that her fingers were a chalky blue and worst of all, SHE WAS IN THE SAME PLACE WE HAD LEFT HER THE NIGHT BEFORE.

Sister Day was dead.

What do you do when you find a dead body? We didn’t know, so we left her apartment and drove to our district leaders house which wasn’t far from where we were. We didn’t know what to do or who to call so eventually Sister Wilson called the Relief Society President, and I went in another room and prayed that Elder Gardener would come home and help us (but he never did). Sister Moran advised us to go back to Sister Day’s apartment and wait for her, she would call 911 and we’d get it taken care of.
We spent most of our day filling out police reports, and by the time we were done We Were Done so we went back to our apartment. That was quite the nightly phone call into the District Leader that night “hi sister’s how was your day?” “well elder gardener, we started our morning finding a dead body and then spent most of the afternoon filling out police reports. We didn’t get any contacts today, sorry.”
Turns out she had probably been dead since Saturday. She had a massive heart attack. Apparently there is a nerve that runs from your heart to your bowels and when this specific type of heart attack is occurring it makes you feel like you have to go to the bathroom and that is the end of it all.

Therefore, I do not like Dead Bodies or Fat People.

The end

I've got it.

I think I have a dislike for fat people because of Sister Day.

I never want to find a dead body again and I certainly don't want to find fat ones.

Addicted to Complaining

According to Webster’s Dictionary:

ad·dict : to devote or surrender (oneself) to something habitually or obsessively


So if we step back and look at this, apparently I am addicted to complaining. Funny that before today I have never really looked at it that way.

I complain about people I know. I complain about being sick all the time. I complain about being fat. I complain about where I live. I complain about what I drive. I complain about being sued. I complain about my lawyer’s office. I complain about my work chair. I complain about my mother. I complain about my clothes. I complain about Oklahoma. I complain about doctors. I complain about music. I complain about the lawn. I complain about the paint color. I complain about my feet. I complain about church. I complain about traffic. I complain about my last job. I complain about other peoples children. I complain about my neighbors. I complain about the garbage men. I complain about my family. I complain about money. I complain about my pets. I complain about my friends. I complain about trains. I complain about mission companions. I complain about the Tabernacle Choir. I complain about Salt Lake City. I complain about wearing a watch. I complain about the fact that out of the 4 clocks I have to look at at work none of them are set to the same time. I complain about noise. I complain about the silence. I complain about the flavor of diet coke. I complain about sports. I complain about video games. I complain about always losing. I complain about being allowed to win. I complain about medications. I complain about nightlights. I complain about the dark. I complain about leaving the porch light on. I complain about flowers. I complain about desire or lack there of. ...

Yep, sounds like I’m complain about just about everything except for my husband and nap time.

My New Slogan

After working with Health Plans in the state of Oklahoma for a little over a month now I have decided that this is the new slogan:

"Oklahoma! Where the Farmer's and the Cow-men sometimes call themselves Doctors."

The People I Work With

Coventry is lonely. My supervisor who came from CHG with me sits a row of cubicles away from me and I'm lucky if i see her once a day and Candy the other lady from CHG sits a row of cubicles away from me in the other direction. I don't know anyone and it's hard to know anyone because of the 5' walls that separate us all. But on the other hand i don't know that i want to know anyone here.
There is this guy who used to sit behind me who would sit in his cubie and fart all day like no one could hear or smell him. yuck. but he's moved now so i don't have to put up with that anymore he's someone else's problem now.
And then all the ladies here are either grossly obese terribly pathetic women and there are a few that fit into the pathetic "Cat Lady" category, or we have the super skinny and super stuck on themselves clique and I just love that.... one girl sit's around at other peoples desks and talks ALL day and doesn't ever do her own work, where I have been working for just over two months and am up among the top producers and she has been here for a year and is still in training mode (granted she was the file clerk up until May but still....) oy!
So that's life here.

I miss Jerald and Connie :(



All views expresed are my own and not that of Coventry Health Care.

Ten Years After High School

How was the reunion? well, Tom and Ashley were great. We three and John went to the Saturday night dinner at the high school because Ashley and Tom both had something on the Friday night, so I forked over $60 for a yucky buffet. Most of the people there were the popular kids. all the jerks I’d make fun of and there were a few people that I'd associate with. Jena Ribe (or Jana) was there she said hi to me she’s looks really good. She is married to a guy names McKay that used to live down the street from me. Some girl named Patricia Jones said hi to me, but I have no idea who she is. I even got my year books from my mom’s house and looked her up... no clue - I seriously have no recollection of her at all. and this will sound awful but she was HUGE and I had been having a horrible self image week so when I saw her walking into the building I pointed and said to the group I was with "at least I'm not fat like that". Speaking of fat, Jeff Dopp got fat. fat fat fatty fat. That's the first thing Ashley said when she saw him. Chelsea married Matt Swain. Heidi Belnap looked awesome. She’s still around and single. Tia (I can’t remember he last name) Looked the same, maybe a little older. Jannie Maxfield looks exactly the same she’s a school psychologist. I didn't think Jeanine Moyer could be any more horrible and vicious then she was in High School but she is a million times worse. Heather Goodson was still the same sweet person though and she looked exactly the same except the fact that she was very pregnant. John Aubry was there and just like in high school the mean guys made him do his stand up comedy that sucks. I don't remember the names of others that came. I remember them, but not their names. lots of people from choir. There were probably about 150 people there. They had a stupid slide show that was just all the popular kids from high school and some modern pictures of people who added to the DHS blog. and the music sucked. They even gave out prizes and surprise, most of them went to the popular kids. There was a prize for the most kids, who’d been married the longest, who looked exactly the same and I think there might have been one for who had changed the most but I don’t recall.
I didn't go to the Friday night picnic at the park and I hear there were lots of people there. So maybe in 10 more years I'll skip the paid entertainment and just do the free stuff.