Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Go Ams!
One of the first things I taught my now-almost-8-year-old niece to say, when she was barely a year old, was "Go Ams!" This is short for Americans, which is the name of our local junior hockey team. Even then, in 2000, I don't think I was fully into the whole hockey thing anymore - teaching Devi to say that was more about harassing my brother-in-law, who is from Spokane, home of the Ams' biggest and most-hated rivals, the Chiefs.
But a few years before that I was extremely into hockey - season tickets, shouting myself hoarse at every game, buying jerseys ... the whole works. I went with my friend Terri and her husband Jeff, and we were SERIOUS fans. But then I changed jobs and Terri and I didn't hang out as much, and then she and Jeff split up and she moved away, and suddenly I didn't know the names of every player on the team, or what their record was at any given moment.
As of yesterday, it had probably been more than two years now since I'd even BEEN to a game.
So tonight, when I was at the potentially deciding game of a playoff series between the Ams and the Seattle Thunderbirds, I honestly believed I wasn't going to be all that into it.
Oh, sure, I hoped they'd win, but it wasn't going to mean that much to me personally. I was there to support a fund-raising effort for a charitable foundation my friend Kellee runs. A very good cause, and I just planned to do my time for the first half of the game or so, then head home to continue (i.e. START) packing, since we leave for Vegas in two days, and so far my packing has consisted of piling "potential" clothes into the chair in my front room and throwing the rejects into a pile on the floor of my spare room.
Yeah, sure - leaving a game before it's over - THAT'S totally something I would do. Except, of course, NOT.
During the course of my selling the "chuck-a-puck" pucks (buy a foam rubber puck for $1, during intermission throw it onto the ice, whoever gets it in the seat of the little pontoon boat wins it) I happened to wander onto one of the landings to observe for a moment. About 30 seconds before the Ams scored their first goal.
I was holding four of those little orange pucks, and all I can say is it's a miracle I didn't throw them onto the ice right then, the way my arms flew into the air with absolutely no conscious thought from me, to celebrate in the time-honored tradition of sports fans. (Picture any guy you know seeing his football team score a touchdown and you have an idea of the gesture I made.)
Seriously, I could no more have stopped myself from reacting to that goal than I could have stopped breathing. Cheering when "my" team scores is genetically encoded in my DNA, and I am powerless against the force of my own nature. Really - it happened three more times, just at tonight's game. (Final score, Americans 4, Seattle, ZERO.)
So after I got done selling my 57 pucks, I of course did not leave and go home to pack. Instead I invited myself into the announcer's booth to sit with a friend who is the PA announcer, and I was trying to be all calm and quiet since he was, you know, doing his job and I was about 6" from a microphone that could be live at any given moment.
So when the team scored again, you know I was all dignified and cool, right?
Are you kidding me? Have you read anything I've written to this point? Before that puck hit the back of the net and dropped to the ice I was on my feet shouting and clapping. I just can't NOT be a fan.
So congratulations to the Americans for closing out the series and moving on to round 3 and thanks to Curt for letting me hang out with him even though I don't know how to act like a grown-up.
But a few years before that I was extremely into hockey - season tickets, shouting myself hoarse at every game, buying jerseys ... the whole works. I went with my friend Terri and her husband Jeff, and we were SERIOUS fans. But then I changed jobs and Terri and I didn't hang out as much, and then she and Jeff split up and she moved away, and suddenly I didn't know the names of every player on the team, or what their record was at any given moment.
As of yesterday, it had probably been more than two years now since I'd even BEEN to a game.
So tonight, when I was at the potentially deciding game of a playoff series between the Ams and the Seattle Thunderbirds, I honestly believed I wasn't going to be all that into it.
Oh, sure, I hoped they'd win, but it wasn't going to mean that much to me personally. I was there to support a fund-raising effort for a charitable foundation my friend Kellee runs. A very good cause, and I just planned to do my time for the first half of the game or so, then head home to continue (i.e. START) packing, since we leave for Vegas in two days, and so far my packing has consisted of piling "potential" clothes into the chair in my front room and throwing the rejects into a pile on the floor of my spare room.
Yeah, sure - leaving a game before it's over - THAT'S totally something I would do. Except, of course, NOT.
During the course of my selling the "chuck-a-puck" pucks (buy a foam rubber puck for $1, during intermission throw it onto the ice, whoever gets it in the seat of the little pontoon boat wins it) I happened to wander onto one of the landings to observe for a moment. About 30 seconds before the Ams scored their first goal.
I was holding four of those little orange pucks, and all I can say is it's a miracle I didn't throw them onto the ice right then, the way my arms flew into the air with absolutely no conscious thought from me, to celebrate in the time-honored tradition of sports fans. (Picture any guy you know seeing his football team score a touchdown and you have an idea of the gesture I made.)
Seriously, I could no more have stopped myself from reacting to that goal than I could have stopped breathing. Cheering when "my" team scores is genetically encoded in my DNA, and I am powerless against the force of my own nature. Really - it happened three more times, just at tonight's game. (Final score, Americans 4, Seattle, ZERO.)
So after I got done selling my 57 pucks, I of course did not leave and go home to pack. Instead I invited myself into the announcer's booth to sit with a friend who is the PA announcer, and I was trying to be all calm and quiet since he was, you know, doing his job and I was about 6" from a microphone that could be live at any given moment.
So when the team scored again, you know I was all dignified and cool, right?
Are you kidding me? Have you read anything I've written to this point? Before that puck hit the back of the net and dropped to the ice I was on my feet shouting and clapping. I just can't NOT be a fan.
So congratulations to the Americans for closing out the series and moving on to round 3 and thanks to Curt for letting me hang out with him even though I don't know how to act like a grown-up.
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
The secret's out ...
My brother-in-law has started blogging, and when my mom mentioned it, I said "Oh, I have one too." Although since it only has about 5 posts up to this point, that may be stretching things a little.
But of course she wanted to read it, so now I have to THINK about what I write before I post it, just in case.
: )
Just kidding, mom - you know I don't have any secrets from you. At all. Huh-uh. No way. Not even ... well, never mind.
But of course she wanted to read it, so now I have to THINK about what I write before I post it, just in case.
: )
Just kidding, mom - you know I don't have any secrets from you. At all. Huh-uh. No way. Not even ... well, never mind.
Thursday, April 03, 2008
Yes, but who's going to pay for my THERAPY?
Words can not express how much I have hated dealing with the City of Kennewick's insurance "administrators" Canfield Associates. Seriously, if I really thought voodoo dolls had a smidgen of power, there would be some hurtin' cowpokes in Ephrata right now.
After everything I went through with them to settle my claim last summer, I have no idea why I thought closing out the final details would be easy, but silly me, I did. I thought we'd settled everything back then and was actually feeling kind of bad that I'd taken so long to get the last receipts in.
I think subconsciously though, I knew it was going to be just as teeth-grindingly aggravating this go-around, so I just kept procrastinating. But with the year anniversary approaching fast, I knew I had to wrap it up.
So when I finally got off the pot and submitted it on March 19, I hoped - ha ha on me - that I'd have a check by the end of March and I'd never have to think about them again.
Foolish, foolish me.
On April 2, having heard NOTHING for 2 weeks, I inquired as to whether they'd received it. Oh, yes, they replied. (Apparently they just don't bother to let you know until you start asking questions.)
Of course, they also hadn't let me know they'd returned my claim to the original adjuster - the one I had so many problems with that they had finally transferred my case to his boss. And of course, he had no knowledge of the settlement we'd reached and promptly depreciated my already-depreciated carpet and paneling, reducing my claim by about $1500.
When I asked them to explain it and provide detailed dollar amounts line by line, they declined and seemed to have no documentation on their end of our previous settlement.
So when I started providing said documentation of said previously settled amounts, they needed a breakdown of one of the line items ... despite it having been included at least twice before, including approximately 45 minutes earlier.
It's crazy-making. This is their JOB, and they can't get back to me sometime over the course of 2 weeks? Last time it took almost FOUR weeks before they even looked at the claim. Meanwhile I have another full-time job that I have to squeeze in between dealing with these "people."
One of the reductions of my claim was the $625 difference between the original contractor estimate and the final invoice. What do you want to bet if the final invoice had been $625 less than the estimate, they would not have still given me the full amount "allowed" yet since it's more, I'm expected to make up the difference?
I don't usually wish bad things on people, but like the "mother's curse" I have to hope that someday they have a similar experience and the results are exactly as satisfying as mine with them has been.
That would be better than a voodoo doll any day.
After everything I went through with them to settle my claim last summer, I have no idea why I thought closing out the final details would be easy, but silly me, I did. I thought we'd settled everything back then and was actually feeling kind of bad that I'd taken so long to get the last receipts in.
I think subconsciously though, I knew it was going to be just as teeth-grindingly aggravating this go-around, so I just kept procrastinating. But with the year anniversary approaching fast, I knew I had to wrap it up.
So when I finally got off the pot and submitted it on March 19, I hoped - ha ha on me - that I'd have a check by the end of March and I'd never have to think about them again.
Foolish, foolish me.
On April 2, having heard NOTHING for 2 weeks, I inquired as to whether they'd received it. Oh, yes, they replied. (Apparently they just don't bother to let you know until you start asking questions.)
Of course, they also hadn't let me know they'd returned my claim to the original adjuster - the one I had so many problems with that they had finally transferred my case to his boss. And of course, he had no knowledge of the settlement we'd reached and promptly depreciated my already-depreciated carpet and paneling, reducing my claim by about $1500.
When I asked them to explain it and provide detailed dollar amounts line by line, they declined and seemed to have no documentation on their end of our previous settlement.
So when I started providing said documentation of said previously settled amounts, they needed a breakdown of one of the line items ... despite it having been included at least twice before, including approximately 45 minutes earlier.
It's crazy-making. This is their JOB, and they can't get back to me sometime over the course of 2 weeks? Last time it took almost FOUR weeks before they even looked at the claim. Meanwhile I have another full-time job that I have to squeeze in between dealing with these "people."
One of the reductions of my claim was the $625 difference between the original contractor estimate and the final invoice. What do you want to bet if the final invoice had been $625 less than the estimate, they would not have still given me the full amount "allowed" yet since it's more, I'm expected to make up the difference?
I don't usually wish bad things on people, but like the "mother's curse" I have to hope that someday they have a similar experience and the results are exactly as satisfying as mine with them has been.
That would be better than a voodoo doll any day.
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
1st post of 2008 and it's only April
OK, so I haven't done a great job on this little experiment. It's not like I told anyone about it, and they're anxiously awaiting new material.
It's kind of pathetic, though - 2 posts in 2006 and then not another one for over a year? Makes the piddly 4 months since the last one seem like a mere moment.
It's kind of pathetic, though - 2 posts in 2006 and then not another one for over a year? Makes the piddly 4 months since the last one seem like a mere moment.
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