stuff is cool

In August of 2007, I opened a Money Market Account with Chase bank, my bank for over a decade. In fact, it has been my only bank since I was old enough to hold an account.

I sat down that mid-August day with a Chase banker whom I thought was a friend, “Abe,” a man I had trusted since I had been going to his branch for many years. He told me he wanted to set me up with a Chase Premier Checking Account, so that I could earn bonus points and “get free stuff.” He said it was free to upgrade and that there was no reason I shouldn’t, so I said, sure, go for it.

On my very next statement, I started seeing a “service fee” of $20 which recurred every month. Well, since it was called a “service fee,” I believed it was a fee for services to my MMA.

Finally, on June 14, 2008, almost a year later, I finally got fed up with such an expensive service fee. I was no longer using that particular account, and kept very little money in it. I no longer felt $20 a month was worth whatever service they where providing, so I called to see what it was about and if I could cancel my MMA and avoid further “service fees.”

It was only then that I was told that the Chase Premier Checking Account my dear Abe had set me up with requires a minimum monthly balance of $15,000. Yes, FIFTEEN THOUSAND DOLLARS. In my entire life, I have never had anywhere close to that much money in my checking account, before or after the supposedly “free upgrade.”

The banker who set me up with this account was looking right at my account history when he did this. I had never had more than a few thousand dollars at any given time. He had no reason to believe I would ever suddenly have $15,000 every month. Nor did he even mention it. I certainly would have turned down this great “free upgrade!”

He also happily helped me set up an alert system so that I would receive an automated call if my account went below $2,000. Hmm, that’s $13,000 lower than the minimum should ever be! So what good would that alert do me? Nothing! Thanks, Abe! What a helper!

I immediately downgraded my account the day I found out about this “service fee” that was actually a “penalty fee” for having less than the required $15,000 minimum.

Then I went to my local branch to demand to know how Chase would have knowingly signed me up for an account minimum I would never be able to reach, and also conveniently failed to even tell me about it.

Their first response was “How come you never called us about that $20 fee before? It’s been on your statement every month for almost a year.” Thank you, Chase, for immediately blaming me. Let’s see, if it were labeled what it truly is, a “PENALTY FEE” I sure as heck would have called you on it the instant I saw it. But no, you call it a “service fee,” though what “service” you have been providing me by taking $20 from me every month, I certainly don’t know.

“Priscilla,” the assistant bank manager (“Keith”, the bank manager, was unavailable) told me that since my father was also on my account, and since he had his own separate account with Chase, perhaps ole Abe had “linked” our accounts “for fee purposes.” That still doesn’t add up. My father should have had to agree to this $15,000 minimum as well, and he doesn’t necessarily always have that much cash sitting around in his own checking account himself. They never asked him. Never once did this minimum get mentioned to any of the two account holders: me and my father.

They just set me up with a ridiculous account with an unattainable minimum, and then happily took $20 from me every month under the guise of providing me with a “service.”

That adds up to over $200. $200 that never should have been taken from me in the first place, if that banker back last August had done his job.

Now Chase is saying they may not be able to refund that money. They have only refunded the last 4 months, claiming that going any further back would be “very difficult” but not explaining why. They have also given no explanation as to 1) why that banker Abe did what he did and 2) why they do not see fit to refund my deceitfully taken money.

I would gladly get the hell out of Chase today if I could but I have to twiddle my thumbs while the “upper management” reviews my case to determine whether or not I deserve a refund. I see no plausible reason why I shouldn’t. Chase was in the wrong from the very start. Whether I caught it last August or next August, that doesn’t change the fact that they screwed up big time, and I had to pay for it.

If someone steals my car and I don’t notice it for a few days, does that mean the thief is less culpable for the theft?

Chase made a mistake that made them money and cost me money. I see no proper recourse other than a full refund.

Hallelujah, I have rediscovered the style and comfort of jeans that fit just below my waist, not just above my lady parts. Low-rise jeans have been so popular for so long that it’s the only style I have been able to buy for many years. The only other option, so I thought, were those horrendous ladies’ Wranglers that look straight out of the 80’s, and seem to come right up under your boobs.

But last Friday, as I was shopping at Old Navy for jeans for Danny, I discovered “classic rise” jeans for myself. Rejoice! The waist is comfortable, the fit is still slimming, and I think I look better than I ever did in low-rise.

The style is called “The Sweetheart” at Old Navy: classic rise, stretch, slight flare. PERFECT. I bought two pairs.

The search for the perfect pair of jeans is practically a lifelong quest for some women. Sure, I’ve had favorite pairs in the past, but what worked for me in college doesn’t necessarily work for me as a 27-year-old wife. The days of sizes 1 and 3 are over for me. I just put about five pairs of such teeny ass-crack-displaying jeans into the giveaway pile that is currently being stored in the guest bathtub (nobody ever uses that tub so it’s perfect storage space for now.)

My jeans drawer now holds a few “back-up” jeans for days when I never leave the house. But now I am all Sweetheart, All the Time.

I also love how it’s called “classic rise” as if it’s all retro and vintage.

I do. I like sushi and I like Sushi (my friend Sushi Suzuki, how I miss him!)

But this post is about the sushi most people know: the Japanese fishy food.

I like sushi. Actually, I like Maki (the rolls.) Not a huge fan of just fish-on-rice.

My favorite is the Spiral Roll at Blue Fish House: tuna, salmon, shrimp, cucumber, and avocado.

Danny and I go out for sushi at least one a month.

But I cannot remember the first time I tried sushi!! It must have been fairly recently, actually, in college. You would think I would remember it. I HATE most fish; how did I bring myself to eat “raw fish”!

Do you remember your first sushi experience?

Wow, it’s been months. I haven’t had much to say, not that that stopped me before. Brief news:

- I have a new baby cousin, Calvin Merle Whitmore, son of my dad’s older brother Dan and second wife, Jean

- Calvin’s half-brother, my cousin Harry, was married two weeks ago. We all went up to Evanston. IL for the wedding.

- My collarbone and shoulder have been giving me a lot of trouble, and now my spine is starting to ache worse again.

- Therefore I will probably be changing treatments for the third (fourth?) time in a little over a year.

- My psoriasis has cleared up everywhere except my legs. I still wear jeans with everything, even sundresses.

- I am not working in any official capacity, though I am hoping to work at part-time Yankee Candle for a few months.

- Gigi got a haircut and looks like a widdle puppy.

- Bishy Bish Von Der Bish presented me with a beautiful blue hookah this week, and I cannot wait to fire it up, once he teaches me how.

- I still read all the time.

- Danny and I will be moving from our current apartment in the fall, most likely into another apartment, but closer to our families.

- In addition to not maintaining this blog, I haven’t been reading anyone else’s. I have no idea why. Plan to resume all blog-oriented activity.

- I can’t think of anything else right now. I am distracted by a show about the Lost Colony of Roanoke.

- Speaking of lost-ness, we’ll be watching the season finale of LOST a day late, tonight, with Matt and Shannon.

Pete’s comment made me think abut my grandmother’s childhood, and my father’s, which I daydream about often. My great-grandparents house in Elgin, Texas still stands, and it’s been beautifully well-kept. It has a cheerful and inviting bright red door, a big front porch, lots of trees around it, and a big field behind it with a red barn. It’s so perfect.

Here’s a picture from when we were there last May, right after Grandmom passed away.

And the barn

Dad and Danny

Mommie-Me and Daddy D (the D was for Danklefs) standing in front of their house

Unfortunately it’s not in the family anymore, but anytime we go anywhere near Elgin we make the pilgrimage to go stand out front ad talk about how it used to be. My dad talks about going to visit his grandparents, Mommie-Me and Daddy D, about how hot the bedrooms upstairs were, about riding in Daddy D’s big truck to his grocery store in town, about “the good old days.” I wish I could have been there. I would have competed with my own grandmother for May Queen (she would still win), and we’d both be big bookworms, and we’d help Mommie-Me cook. Maybe she made the same beef stew I made the other day. I learned the recipe from my grandmother.

I miss Grandmom, and Mommie-Me.

This is Grandmom when she was 17 or 18.

Here she is laughing. I never saw this side of her. She was loving and wonderful, but I never saw her laugh like this. She’s so beautiful.

These days, too, will someday be “The Good Old days.” And my grandkids will hopefully know about them from my stories.

Apparently the novel I am currently reading, Forever Amber by Kathleen Winsor, was quite scandalous when it was published in 1947. According to Wikipedia, 14 states banned it as pornography. It is, of course, about The Restoration, because that’s all I read about these days. And granted, those were bawdy times. But I am about 100 pages in to the 726 page book, and I haven’t seen a singe bit of indecency. In fact, in the one sex scene so far, I had to reread the section several times to realize that intercourse had actually occurred! Either I am reading a wildly abridged and censored version (this edition is from 1971), or it’s about to get a lot sexier, OR people in 1947 were way more uptight than I ever imagined.

So, with the wedding behind us, life seems a little strange. Certainly not empty, but lacking that certain excitement. Then again, I do not miss the stress and pressure of planning a wedding, and I hope my family finds me more pleasant company than I have been.

Being married to Danny hasn’t really changed our relationship much, at least in the day-to-day. But we both find a certain giddiness in referring to each other as “husband” and “wife”, slipping it into interactions with strangers as often as we can: “My husband usually handles in Internet stuff in our house. . .” while on the phone with SBC during a DSL outage, etc. etc.

I try not to dwell on things I forgot to do at the wedding. I lament that we didn’t take more photographs posed by Rice-y things at Cohen House. I REALLY regret not getting a single picture with any of my aunts. I wish I had made a short speech thanking my family for all their love, help, and support. I wish I had spent more time with my friends. And so on. But it was an incredible party, and we all had the most fun we’d had in years.

These days, I am working on being a housewife. Many of you may not have heard that I decided not to return to my writing job full-time. After months of medical leave, I decided to stay on in a diminished capacity, working only part-time, and from home. This frees up time to continue to focus on my health, which is still troublesome. I am switching to a new infusion in March, and hopefully it will work just as well as Remicade, but will also help get rid of the psoriasis that came out all over my skin in January. Methotrexate and lots of makeup helped hide it at the wedding, but my legs and feet are particularly afflicted. Since I normally always wear jeans anyways, even in the summer, this isn’t a huge concern, though I have had to start wearing leggings if I want to wear a dress. Sometimes I even just wear jeans with a really casual dress. No biggie, and kinda cute. I can’t walk much or stand for very long, because not only is it hard on my joints, but the sores on my feet can’t take it.

On top of that I have been plagued by heartburn of all things for sveral weeks now. I have never experienced heartburn before! It is a strange feeling. I picked up some Prilosec at the store yesterday. so today is Day One! According to the commercials, I think I am supposed to be at a local carnival. In two weeks I expect to be watching a NASCAR race from the roof of an RV, or hang gliding. The directions don’t say, so I’ll just stick to my usual activities and hope the Prilosec works just as well.

Though my back is certainly MUCH better than it was those awful months between April and December, I still get worrisome pain in my hips and tail bone almost daily. I am going to see a Pain Management specialist in April, and hopefully she will have some answers that will reduce both my pain and my intake of hydrocodone. I was supposed to see her last week, but mistiming in the transfer of my records from the other doctors meant I had to reschedule, and the wait is unfortunately long.

In the meantime, I take it pretty easy. I still read voraciously. I still revel in my candle collection.

And thanks to my obsession with all things fragranced, I am going to start a new website with the help of my clever computer-savvy husband.

I am still working on it, trying to put enough content up for it to be a worthwhile read when launched.

It will be all about all kinds of fragrance, including perfume, room spray, candles, and laundry detergent. It will be reviews of products, hints about fighting tough odors, tricks to make your home smell just the way you want it to, and a general celebration of the wonderful aromas of life. Since the fragrance industry is so huge right now, I will never be without something to write about. From aromatherapy dish soaps to scented toiler paper dispensers, our culture is almost as obsessed with fragrance as I am. We already have the domain, and I am playing with the design. i am glad I stumbled onto an appropriate domain, because so many have been snatched up by people on the outside chance they can sell it to someone who wants it. The one I originally wanted was taken, and up for sale for $1500!

I am excited about this new project, which combines what I love and what I am good at. It is exactly the sort of project I need to find purpose in the everyday. It is far better and more satisfying than writing material for other people. I had grown more than restless with my work, and desperately needed to write for myself instead of others. I will still work on projects for others, of course, for a living. It is still a great way to learn new things and stay in touch with the world.

I hope to even do some freelance work on my own, for friends and acquaintances who need some copy, but don’t want to pay the high cost of hiring an agency.

With all that, it is a pretty full life. Add to that the mountain of wedding gifts to sort through, enjoy, and write thank-yous for, and our apartment is full as well.

Danny is so precious. Just this morning he had to dash back after leaving for work, because he had forgotten to put on his wedding ring. We both take ours off for washing and sometimes sleeping, because they are a bit loose for the time being, and hard to get used to. But they have a safe place of honor in the antique pewter ring holder I keep by my bed.

As I write this by joints are beginning to ache, so I may not make the errands I had planned. I also have to be careful not to type for too long, because of course it bothers my wrists.

But reading taxes none of my joints, and so I am turning to my books. Right now I am reading a book about the daily life in London in 1700. Turns out it is not much different than it was in 1660, as i read a similar book abut daily life in The Restoration. But I still love to study it.

Well, I hope that entry wasn’t too dull to read. Just wanted to let my far-flung friends know how things are going. Love to all, and please, please, come for a visit this Spring, any of you. We have so many fun hostess tools now, and I want to use them! I want to be MARY T!

Exactly 9 days ago, I was prescribed Zyrtec to relieve the itching of my mystery rash (probably psoriasis). The prescription cost me a whopping 71 dollars for 30 pills. Today I drag my pained, leprosy-looking body to explore the CVS across the street, as I do almost every day, desperate to find some sort of cream to relive my itching. Horrifically, there, in a glorious “FU” display: “PRESCRIPTION STRENGTH ZYRTEC, NOW OTC!” 30 pills cost fucking $18.99.

CAN I CATCH A DAMN BREAK? Like I have money to throw around with a wedding three weeks away. On top of that, on MONDAY I ordered some turmeric supplements because I have read numerous accounts of miraculous healing for psoriasis sufferes. I made sure to get *next day delivery* so I could get it in my system asap. It’s now FRIDAY. No delivery. Next day delivery MY ASS. I want to explode.

So, for the third day in a row, I have a good violent cry and scream at God. I hear about people who lose their ability to walk or get terminal cancer in every single organ, and people admire them saying: “She’s sooo brave, never once did she ask God why she was suffering.”

Well, I am no angel. I ask why. WHY. Why am I crippled one day, just achy the next (and achy is no picnic.) Why do I cry out in my sleep every time I toss and turn because it hurts my bones. Why am I tormented by anxiety and depression. Why am I COVERED in disgusting itchy welts of bright red terror, all the way from the bottom of my feet to my very scalp? I limp because the bottom of one foot is really painful.

My “most special day” is rapidly approaching and I am falling apart. And about to have a epic nervous breakdown.

Zyrtec, you are the last straw.

My recent obsession has been collecting Yankee Candles. I recently discovered a treasure trove of rare and discontinued scents on Ebay, but cannot afford to indulge as I would like. Some are selling for upwards of 80 dollars!

My current rotation goes between store-bought Mediterranean Cypress, Vanilla Cupcake, and Fresh Cut Roses (that scent will be present at my wedding by strategically placed candles to enhance the fragrance of the real roses on display.) I frequent the store so much I probably should consider working there.

I think I am very much calmed by soothing fragrance, and it is one of the “tools” my therapist encourages me to enjoy when I need to calm down and be at peace.

When spring officially comes I look forward to Yankee Candle Greenhouse scent and Island Spa. Both would make lovely, inexpensive wedding gifts, incidentally.

But that’s neither here nor there.

My NEW hobby ties into my love of history. I should like to collect prints of the portraits of my favorite historical figures. Due to being an Anglophile, they are all Lords and Ladies, Dukes, Duchesses, Kings and Queens.

I was so thrilled and lucky to come across an immediately recognizable antique print of an unidentified “Baby Stuart” on a trip to Belleville, TX at Christmas time.

A very old rendering identified at Henriette Anne that is basically the exact image I posses, only mine is, of course, a print dating only to the 19th century:

Who would have guessed I’d find such a treasure in a small Texas town? My beloved Danny bought it for me, to go along with my beautiful portrait of Mary, Princess Royal, sister to the great Charles II.

She looks so sweet at the tender age of preadolescence. My mother presented me with that portrait after she returned from her trip to England. To see the real painting in person would be a dream come true, but really, to see where they lived and died would be sublime.

I love the portraits because I admire the people.

The baby’s identity is vague. Some say she is Henriette Anne of England, daughter of Charles I and sister to Charles II, raised in the French court and married to the Duc D’Orleans, the cruel brother of the Sun King. I have a special place in my heart for her, if that is indeed the child in the portrait.

My research suggests that the child is in fact just a young Mary, Princess Royal. EDIT: No, I am now convinced the portrait of the infant actually depicts James, Duke of York, later James II of England. Either way, I greatly admire the entire House of Stuart.

My point? There are other ladies and gentlemen I wish to add to my eventual portrait gallery, starting with the rags to riches Emma, Lady Hamilton, the great love of Lord Nelson.

I have long admire Nelly Gwynne, one of many mistresses to Charles II, but hands down the most charming and down-to-earth and beloved by the people. However the only portraits i could find online of her had in in a state of undress, and since this is a family blog, I refrained from sharing them here.

Yes, I have plans to seek out prints of portraits of all these illustrious royals and courtiers. They are my “celebrity obsessions.” No Britney or the Olsens or whathave you. Historical figures who lived scandalous, merry lives full of intrigue who managed to outwit so many plotting against them. They are my inspirations.

I love history, for it is peopled with incredible people, flawed nonetheless, who weathered their stormy lives with dignity not seen in decades. For some reason British history draws me most. I owe that passion to author Karleen Koen, who I am excitedly looking forward to acceptingly her invitation for coffee and chatting history, once the wedding wildness has died down.

But a half hour ago I was tormented by my ever-present, seemingly worsening rash, and I was lost in tears. I focused on what I love: history, and it got me out of the terrible feeling.

Well, lots has gone on since my last post, and some of you have begged for an update. Now that the holidays are over and the drudgery of work resumes, I know we all need distractions from work more than ever!

1) Remicade

My back pain is still a major problem. My spine appears to be fully inflamed, from my neck all the way down. Sleeping is still difficult, as is moving around in general. The good news is that I have had two full doses of the new drug remicade that is supposed to strop the progession of damage and increase my mobility while alleviating the pain. Doses are gived in IV drip that takes a few hours. Danny takes off work to be with me, which makes him even more a hero to me than he already was.

I am starting to see improvement, and hope to keep getting better so that by the time the wedding arrives, I will at least be able to boogie.

2) Christmas

Another wonderful Christmas, though it seems we have had to abandon most of my childhood traditions for new ones. It takes some getting used to.

3) SLUMBER PARTY!

I was feeling ambitious and invited my 3 cousins over for a slumber party a few nights ago. We baked red velvet cupcakes with homemade cream cheese filling (the way it baked itslef into the center was amazing). Then we pampered ourselves with mud masks, even Sammy. We played High School Musical Mystery Date, and Sammy was the winner with a date with none other than Troy himself. I must include some pics here, as it was so much fun:

The children practice being beauticians:

We look mahvelous.

Christopher gets attacked by ZOMBIES!

Mystery date was frustratingly difficult to assemble, but worth it.

I felt like Supermom as I got each child showered and ready for bed, and was able to convince them to split just one cupcake for their bedtime snack. They all climbed into my bed to fall asleep, and then I led their sleepwalking little bodies into the guest room. I think pretty soon they’ll be too grown up for all 3 to fit in the guest bed!

4) Happy 2008!

We rang in the New Year with the Frosts. Much alcohol was consumed. Mostly by Danny. YIKES!

5) Biggio Escapes

My cousin Sammy got a new puppy yesterday. he is a stray who appears to be a long-haired terrier of some type, but he’s so skinny from being on the streets that we can’t tell what he’ll really look like yet. His name is Biggio and he’s estimated to be a little over a year old, I think.

Well, little Biggio likes to bolt out the door any chance he gets, and he got that chance yesterday when little Christopher left the door open when he went out to the car for some baseball gloves. That dog TORE out of the house and down the street with my entire family in pursuit. Somehow I gained superhero abilities, because I was so worried for that puppy’s safety that I ran top-speed after him, pain shotting though my back every time my feet hit the pavement. My aunt Michelle and I cornered him, and the others arrived and fanned out in a tactical position. Biggio made a break for it and I did something I somewhat regret.

I tackled him to the ground. I literally laid out on some stranger’s driveway, shoving the poor puppy into a car tire and then basically landing on him. It hurt my back so bad I screamed, which scared the poor dog even more. I was still holding onto him and calculating whether or not I would ever be able to walk again when the rest of the family surrounded me, recovered the dog, and got me off the ground. I took pain meds when I got home and sat on a chair with my back against a bag of shoes, which happens to be very therapeutic, amazingly enough.

From now on New Years Day 2008 will be known as the day Noonie tackled Biggio. I could barely walk after that, and last night was pretty miserable, but I’ll be damned if I ever let anything bad happen to a puppy.

I also chuckle as I think about how we ran around the neighborhood screaming “Biggio, come back! Biggio, STOP!” Neighbors might have thought Craig Biggio himself was running for his life from lunatic fans.

6) Rash in the New Year

And now I am here in bed, back sore, a bit feverish, and covered in that same damn rash that got me a few weeks ago. I didn’t think the rash is associated with the chase after Biggio, because it started to appear before that. But when I had this rash before, we thought it was an allergic reaction to Percoet. I went off it, the rash went away, and so did the flu-like symptoms. But now the rash is back, and it can;t be blamed on Percocet. So I go to the doctor tomorrow to get to the bottom of it.

Which brings me back to #1: It may be a side effect of Remicade. Grrrreat.

Anyway, here’s to 2008, the year I become Mrs. Daniel DiPaolo!