I know, it has been far too long since I last blogged. But thanks for continuing to follow my Facebook posts!
Been (couch)surfing in Hermosa Beach lately. In all my years in L.A., over a decade, I have never spent so much time here as I have lately. I never wanted to be one of those people to live in the South Bay, for “those people” seldom seemed to leave it. Instead of opting for a birthday party in Santa Monica, oftentimes, my friends would stay in the South Bay. And now I know why. It is gorgeous here:
That pic was from my friend’s deck!
Here it is in the day:
And living so close to the beach (two blocks) motivates you to exercise every day, walking or biking on The Strand here, alongside the Pacific Ocean.
Saw this dad pushing his baby… Aww!
And this is one of my favorite houses. (A girl can dream, right?)
And here’s one thing from The Strand in Hermosa that we should all keep in mind:
“It’s never too late to be what you might have been.”
And all the exercising makes you eat healthier. Here’s a pineapple/coconut yogurt-and-strawberries smoothie I made after my last walk.
I don’t want to leave this couch, but I must.
Later tonight, off to another South Bay town I go – Manhattan Beach.
And here’s one final sign I LOVE:
“Leave only footprints.”
What kind of footprints are you leaving in the world?
A few weeks ago, I was at the grocery store and only had a few minutes to grab a handful of things. In the paper towel aisle, I came across a frantic woman. Her curly hair was in all directions, and more black mascara was below her eyes than on her lashes. I love talking to people in grocery stores (or anywhere, really) and even have a rule not to bring my cell phone into stores like so many other people do, chatting away or texting. I prefer to be 100% present in my surroundings, to talk to other customers like we did back in the day, comparing apples to oranges – literally. But when the frantic woman approached me, I took a couple of steps back. I was in a hurry…
“Could I ask you something?” she said as she wiped away mascara, like a clown badly applying makeup. She was holding two types of paper towels, Brawny and Viva, so perhaps that was her question? “Sure,” I said. “I need to boil this chicken for my dog, Oscar,” she continued as she showed me the freshly packaged chicken breasts. “He’s really sick and the vet said to give him plain, boiled chicken. Can you tell me how to make it? Do I just put it in water and cook it? I’m a vegetarian. The doctor said not to add any seasonings. Do you eat meat? I really love Oscar…”
As she continued to ask me question after question at rapid-fire speed, I scolded myself for having been hesitant to have her talk to me. I guess I feared her having a question more than the actual question. We continued talking about her dog and how to boil chicken for several minutes. At one point, I even offered to come over and make the chicken for her. By the end of our conversation, even more mascara was on her face, as she was crying. And I was too, at the love she had for Oscar. “I’m so grateful for the advice,” she said. “So many people just talk on their cell phones and can’t be bothered to answer someone standing right in front of them.”
Every time I’ve eaten or made chicken since then, I can’t help but think of that woman and her dog. I hope the chicken worked for him.
Do you talk to people in the grocery store? Or do you just try to get in and get out?
Have a deadline… but it’s too loud to get any work done? See how I went from writing in silence to needing noise in my latest couch-surfing article, right here in WOW!
I just had my couch-surfing anniversary: two-and-a-half years. Who knew a 52-week project would turn into a 130-week one… and counting. The thanks and gratitude I have to every friend and acquaintance who have opened up their homes – and loveseats, sectionals, and yoga mats – to me is immeasurable.
“So why are you still couch-surfing?” people ask.
With the still-unstable job market and my ever-excessive student loan debt (which is where my “rent” money goes each month), taking my sofa out of storage and putting it into a place of my own hasn’t happened yet. Nor do I want to risk it… and then discover I can suddenly not make rent one month. Believe me, that was the most stressful part about having an apartment.
Besides, I still have many friends’ couches to sleep on… Have I slept at your place yet?
I have tried getting health insurance so many times, I have stopped trying. Rejected for a biopsied mole here, an Upper GI test there, these tests are on my permanent record like something I accidentally wrote in pen instead of pencil and I can’t find the Wite-Out. And even though I’m trying to redeem myself, waiting “x” number of years for “y” issue on my record to disappear so that “z” insurance companies don’t question my “past history” health responses and hold them against me, a game I cannot win, it’s like they only look at the flaws, not the progress I’ve made: less tests the last few years, mainly because they’re too darn expensive without insurance. So the cycle continues… I get the tests taken, paying cash out-of-pocket should I be so lucky to have spare cash, knowing full well my chances of getting approved by a health insurance provider have probably just decreased… again… But at least I got that mole checked.
I know health is supposed to be our #1 priority; that’s what others tell us, “good health is everything” and “if you don’t have your health, you have nothing.” Though the sentiment may be free, why can’t the execution be more affordable? “Nothing” is expensive.
Some people become alarmed when they learn I don’t have health insurance, “What if something happens?” Good question. I want to tell them I’m not avoiding it on purpose. Others think it’s nice that I don’t have to pay a few hundred dollars a month for it, saying they rarely use theirs. But isn’t there comfort in knowing it’s there if you need it? Plus, all the “cash patient” expenses–the doctor’s visits, the tests, the medications–add up. Fast. And there’s always that unpredictable “What if something happens?” looming in the background like a vulture waiting to attack.
Since Sunday, I have had a throbbing ear ache, throat pain, and fever that I hope is a sinus infection, not the start of another two-month flu-turned-cold-turned-bronchitis like I had just a few months ago. I have no time for that. None of us do.
For an uninsured person, the question is always: Do I wait it out – or spend hard-earned money to go to the doctor? A non-clinic doctor ranges in price from $200-400 in L.A. (believe me, I’ve called around), plus they don’t have any available appointments for 4-8 weeks. Never mind. Urgent care is about $100 and the hours are more flexible. The CVS Minute Clinic (which I love) is $80, though the last time I went to one, what they prescribed did not work and I had to end up finding another (more expensive) doctor, anyway, paying two doctors for the price of one. Of course, there are the free clinics, though if time is money, I should be working instead of waiting for an appointment all day.
I have been waiting it out, taking allergy medications, hoping my sinus/cold symptoms would disappear without my needing to pay to see a doctor. Nine times out of ten, said doctors say it’s allergies, anyway, then point me to the appointment desk, where I can pay on my way out, hoping my debit card isn’t declined. (I don’t use credit cards, but that’s another post.)
Yesterday, a friend told me about a Health Truck (think Food Truck with Band-Aids instead of tacos) that goes around L.A., from TV studio lot to TV studio lot. Supposedly, if you don’t have insurance and work on such a lot, a doctor or nurse (I’m not quite sure) on the truck will see you for only $25, which sounded like the answer to my waiting game. The truck happened to be at my lot yesterday. I did a walk-by and I must admit: I was afraid to go in. I imagined the inside looking like a dilapidated motor home, bloody bandages on the floor like an L.A. emergency room I was once in.
I walked into my work and thanked my co-worker for the idea, but said I couldn’t do it. He nearly pushed me back out the door.
The nurse and doctor I saw were probably the nicest, most knowledgeable ones I’ve ever seen. They confirmed my suspicions: a sinus infection. At least I’ll take the right medications now instead of guessing between cold and sinus pills. They asked why I didn’t have health insurance, even though they knew the answer as several other patients had the same response as I did.
I can’t wait for the day I don’t have to worry about being rejected by health insurance providers as though I am waiting for college acceptance letters. That, or the day when no matter what job I take, it comes with insurance, no questions asked, and no wrong answers if they do ask.
In the meantime, I am grateful to Health Trucks like the one I went to yesterday.
Do you have health insurance? Through work or on your own? If not, what kind of clinics or doctors do you go to?
Thanks for reading!
And feel free to “Like” this post if you can relate to it.
We’ve all struggled with finances at some point, either in the past or currently. Last week, I spoke to a friend who’s between jobs (unemployed) and hit one of her lowest points: trying to buy a soda and pack of gum at the 99-cent store with her debit card (the only money she had). The card was declined. She was mortified. The woman behind her said to add the two items to her tab. My friend was so ecstatic, she hugged her.
Have you been in a situation like this – the giving or receiving end?
It reminded me of my being stranded in a parking garage a few months ago, because it was cash-only and I had no cash. So I sat there, counting out all the change from the bottom of my purse as a long line of cars honked and yelled at me. I reached 60-some cents when I realized that was all I had. The garage attendant let me go. Like my friend, I was grateful.
How about you?
One thing I’ve become a pro at all these couch-surfing months is saving money. So when my phone charger literally started on fire a week-and-a-half ago as I plugged it into my couch host’s (CH’s) power strip – causing it to blow fuses in a third of my couch host’s house, which took a few days to get fixed (and is a whole other story!) – I brought it to Verizon and assumed they would give me a new one. After all, with past Verizon phones, when the charger would stop working (like with my old LG, for instance), they often handed me a new one for no charge.
Here’s a picture of the burnt charger:
This time, Verizon was once again very nice about it when they handed me a brand new charger… until they said it’s $29.99.
I calmly explained how my charger had been ON FIRE and blew out all these fuses in a house that’s not even mine (thank goodness for my very nice and understanding couch host, btw!), and I doubted it was the CH’s power strip that caused it… They apologized, saying they had to charge me for the charger. I apologized and handed it back, saying I would get it somewhere cheaper.
I knew Amazon was the place.
There, I found my charger for A PENNY!
Sure, I had to wait a few days for it to arrive, but it was kind of a nice cleanse not having a phone for almost two weeks. For the occasional calls and to contact friends, I used a landline or emailed them. It was fascinating making plans with someone and having to rely on actually showing up on time – them and myself, since I did not have a way to reach them once the plans were set. A great test in accountability, I think.
So far, the charger works! Though I am avoiding plugging it into power strips…
What kind of experiences have you had where someone wanted to charge you a lot — but you found a better deal?
On this day of love, I just want to share a quick story about a homeless man.
This past Sunday at church, a homeless man came in. I am used to seeing a couple wander in and out every Sunday and like that most of the parishioners do not flinch and make room for them in their pews.
However, this past Sunday, a few parishioners were not as welcoming toward such a man. Ironically, it was while the priest was talking about how lepers used to be shunned from mass, only able to watch it through a slit in a wall at the back of the church, and how that only made the lepers feel more isolated versus part of the community. He said that, instead, we need to welcome them, not make them squint from the back.
All the while, at the exact same time, I was standing in the back of the church and watched as the homeless man, a few steps from me, tried to listen to the priest, talking and laughing to himself in between, and I saw a few parishioners blatantly move across the room to get away from him. I was sickened. I knew these people as helping out the community in other ways, yet what was different now?
A few minutes later, the homeless man left. Perhaps he saw that he was not welcomed? It was heartbreaking. I wanted to go apologize for the people’s behavior.
As someone who has volunteered with homeless people for nearly twenty years, perhaps I was not fearful of the man as I assume these parishioners were. Maybe he was there for the same reasons the rest of us were, or maybe he just wanted a place to go. Either way, he wasn’t going to cause any of us harm. And weren’t the parishioners listening to the priest’s homily? Especially on a day that it was about not ostracizing lepers?
In essence, that could have been me. Census-wise, I would be considered homeless – with no permanent address – for two years and nearly three months now. No, I certainly do not look the same as the man who came in, and I had probably taken a shower more recently than he had, but neither of us have a permanent roof over our heads; I just disguise my lack-of-residence more. If my couch-surfing has taught me anything, it has reaffirmed building community with people, talking to each other face-to-face – just like we should do with true homeless people who do not have the luxury of staying on their friends’ couches.
So love your neighbor. Stand still next to a homeless person at church, don’t run away. Outside of mass, talk to them. Often, I do not (and can not) give them money, but I do smile, give them whatever food I happen to have on me, or speak to them instead of looking away. It’s too easy to do that. The least we can do is acknowledge them, reaffirm their existence. After all, homelessness can happen to any of us.
I love my church. But I certainly did not love the ignorant behavior I saw inside.
You can listen to the priest’s homily here, just click on “homily” on the top right side of the page.