Monthly Archives: April 2011

Happy Birthday: You’re Gonna Die!

Having spent a couple of frightening years as an insurance agent, I can say, without a doubt, that I am 100% satisfied with my current insurance company. Their rates, coupled with their customer service and corporate ethics, are seemingly unrivaled. HOWEVER, they need to stop sending me the postcard that reads, “Hey, you’ve got a birthday coming up! You might want to think about getting that life insurance soon, while it’s still somewhat affordable for you to do so…hag.” Every year. For real. Just stop.

Hurry! Before you DIE and we can’t collect any premium from you!

And since when did it become okay to call a lady out on her age! Did you see that? The “34” in there. Clearly a typo!
Well, I never.

I understand the importance of life insurance. I truly do. I also understand, having worked in the industry, what a huge money-maker a life policy is for an insurance company, and the push that exists to accumulate them. But, reminding a woman that she’s ever closer to tea time with the Reaper, and attempting to impart the urgency of her purchasing a policy by informing her that her rates will only increase upon her next birthday – because she is that much closer to DEATH – is a brand of marketing genius well beyond my rapidly aging brain’s capacity to comprehend.

I can only imagine the message waiting for me in next year’s postcard.

“Dear Mrs. D:
Since you’ll be turning 35 this year, and since you’ve yet to purchase a life policy, it’s obvious you’re exhibiting signs of early dementia. But, never fear, it’s not too late to protect your family from both your old-womany-stubbornness and your overall accelerated decay.
Call one of our helpful agents today!”

I Want a Dog

Like the Pet Shop Boys once said, I want a dog.

But not a Chihuahua. I don’t ever want a dog a cat can beat the kibbles out of. I want a DOG-dog. Mid-size, solid, intimidating bark, mild-mannered, loyal, loving, soulful round eyes reflecting pink, bursting hearts: preferably a Golden Retriever.

I almost bought one three years ago. I was passing a pet store in a Tucson mall and there in the window was this panting, miserable, adorable, puppy-mill of a Golden Retriever – being sold for $2000. I just so happened to have $2000 at my disposal at the time and, by God, I was going to save this puppy! I was inside the store, with my credit card out, when I had a brief attack of conscience and thought, “I should probably call my fiancĂ© first.” I called him, and he gently talked me down from the puppy ledge. He reminded me that, not only did we have our wedding coming up in two weeks, a pet is never something to be procured impulsively, rather this was something we should discuss, agree to and prepare for.

I put my credit card away and promised that fuzzy baby doggy face that I would be back the following weekend. But that next weekend I found out I was pregnant. And – as is so often the case in life – stork trumps dog.

Still, I think about that puppy so often. I wonder where he is now, what kind of life he’s had, and how he would have fit into our family. We could’ve made it work. After all, we made the surprise-surprise baby work, and that baby has bitten us, destroyed our belongings and shat on the rug – more than once. And she’s wonderful! People “make things work” all the time. But, with all the traveling I’m planning this year, I feel guilty just buying a houseplant.

I can’t have a dog.
But, oh, how I want a dog.

Addendum: My husband just sent me a lengthy email detailing why this is possibly the worst song he has ever heard in his life: “I think it made part of my brain go mushy.”

I guess that’s why the title of this blog isn’t “Hey everybody, listen to this brain-liquefying song!”