Trying To Make A Claim

I have yet to do this, but my shitty insurance got switched back to the original "no premium, here's your dental insurance back because your poor" plan. So I'm going to send in the claim from when I got my teeth pulled. Worth a shot. If it doesn't happen, I'm dropping their asses because I'm finally back to my "domestic partner" status on Mike's insurance. 

Even if it does happen, I don't want anything to do with an insurance company that sends me a bar of dark chocolate in the mail as a thank you. Why? Because "small amounts of dark chocolate are good for you..." and yeah, small amounts of dark chocolate can also be lethal when your ding dong dog and cat eat them. I ate half and absent-mindedly left it on the coffee table only to find the empty wrapper on the floor yesterday afternoon. 

Oh, don't worry, they're fine. I did take Hugo, our dog, to the vet to get his vitals checked because I'm completely neurotic and needed peace/piece of mind. I should submit his bill to my insurance company too. But still, I would blame Network Health if anything were to happen. Luckily Hugo's run-in with rat poison that nearly killed him when he was a puppy (and helped ruin my 21st bday) has given him an iron stomach for the most part.

I Still Can't Eat Sandwiches

Today I was on a boat to watch a big sailboat race thanks to the hospitality of Puma. It was sorta a big deal. Anyway, what started out to be a beautiful day ended in the city of Boston being enveloped in fog. 

The lovely little boat that we were on had boxed lunches so I dug into a turkey sandwich. I got super psyched because I thought, "This is it! This is going to be the first time I eat a sandwich like a normal person in 3 months!". My editor and creative director from Stuff Magazine were with me, as well as my Puma PR friend and about 8 other people, so I didn't want to look like a weirdo. Yeah no. Didn't happen. Tried it. Barely bit down. Couldn't do it. Had to tear it up. Well worth it though, as was the delicious brownie. 

We were in NYC two weekends ago and my friend Josh ended up cutting my pizza for me at one point. I'm a frigging mess otherwise. All I want to do is effing bite my food, dammit. Will it ever happen?!

The New Jewess On The Block

In other news, I got the Jew talk at dinner earlier this week. It had been a shit day at work - shooting summer fashion in the North End (the I-talian neighborhood) with no model (the agency eventually sent us a replacement - who was perfect - about 2 hours after call time), a cracked out hair stylist who kept drinking beer in the street and a short amount of daylight to shoot in. All in all, it ended up pretty kick ass but frustrating nonetheless. So the last thing in the world I want to do is have this conversation that I know I'm about to have. 

After Mike kept getting yelled at for not being serious, I was told by his dad how honored, grateful, etc they are that I'm making the decision to convert (something I brought up at Passover, don't know if I ever mentioned that here). He tells me that they've met with the rabbi they chose for me (in which his mother chimes in, "she's not very attractive" - I totally know where Mike gets it now). Hopefully she'll never read this, yikes. Bottom line, there are two ways that rabbis deny you into the tribe (according to Sex & The City, you get denied 3 times before you're allowed to start the conversion). One involves getting a door slammed in your face. The other involves reading copious amounts of books. Can you guess which one I got? Yeah. So I'm probably going to have to write a book report to become Jewish. Luckily, Mike has offered to write it for me. I mean, I write a lot, I write often, it's not that I can't do it. But I write about shoes and clothes and sparkly things. Not G-d.

Immediately after the conversion convo - which BTW "Jew school" begins in September, happy birthday me - Mike's mom asks if we have an idea when we want to have our wedding. You could literally see Mike turn pale and crap out his heart. I told her one thing at a time. We still have at least 21 1/2 months to go. She's also looking forward to learning Hebrew with me and teaching me how to cook Jewish meals. Oy.

So basically in a year, I'll be Jewish. Or as my love Jeannie says, Druish (which sort of makes sense since I'm mostly Irish and Druids are Irish). My friend Sam, who is Mexican, gave me a great idea for my bat mitzvah (yes! I'm finally becoming a woman). It's going to be a quinceanera-themed bat mitvah. Sam keeps calling it my bat quince. When a Latin girl turns 15, she has a quince the way I had a sweet 16 only far more illustrious. Her godparents give her a rosary, a bible, a tiara, her first pair of heels and earrings. So for my bat quince, I will receive a Star of David or a hhai (the symbol for life - Mike's dad wears one and I think it's awesome), a Torah or at least a prayer book, and all the rest, preferably a pair of Louboutin or YSL's for the heels (we'll have to see). The food will be Mexican-Jewish fusion, although I don't think that's very kosher. Maybe we substitute beef for gifelte fish? Blech, wouldn't eat it either way.

Oh yeah! We have to keep kosher for a year. Which isn't too hard because we typically don't have food in the house. Really, I just have to keep the turkey out of the cheese drawer and the turkey meatballs on a separate shelf from the ice cream. Mike said we can keep the NYC apt our kosher home, but that would mean Shaka would have to throw out those Jamaican patties he left in there over a year ago. Gross.

This is going to be quite the ride...

21 1/2 Months To Go

I'm getting better about the serious amount of metal in my mouth. It still hurts like balls but my third tightening this past week wasn't so so bad. I still have no clue what's going on when they do tighten and don't really feel like getting into the conversation with my ortho. 

At the last tightening, she put in a new spring to continue to push closed my top gap to help space out my fronts. It's pretty incredible to see how much the bottom is closing in given that it's only been 2.5 months. I'm told that I'm a good brusher, but I'm sure my new hobby (dental hygiene) is a lot more boring than typical ortho patients of the under 16 crowd. Speaking of orthodontic demographics, it was the over 40 crowd when I stopped in for my tightening. All I could think is 1. good for you 2. at least I'm not the oldest and 3. I will never again get braces.