Coffee heat rising

There’s Costco…and then there’s Costco

California Dreamin'

OMG. I just came from Costco Heaven. 

On the way home from GDU, I trekked up and around to Paradise Valley Community College, site of my next part-time gig. From there the nice new Costco at Cave Creek and the U.S. 101 is sorta on my way. So I dropped by to pick up a few tomatoes and a bottle of wine.

Two bottles of wine. Tomatoes. Cantaloupes. Prepared osso bucco (!). And what have we here? A pair of Lizwear shorts, one heckuva far cry from the ill-fitting Levi shorts the Costco here in the ghetto had a couple of weeks ago!

Dang!

It was hard to miss the bright orange kayaks on display near the front entrance. We don’t got no bright orange kayaks. We don’t got no kayaks at all…

That Costco has a whole lotta things us poor white (and brown, and black) trash don’t got, including an array of very fancy single-malt Scotches, ranging from the tacky Glenlivet to stuff I’ve never heard of at $75 a bottle. Not to mention the Veuve Cliquot champagne…happy Fourth!

Garrrrh! Cuter clothes (some nifty shirts that have never been brushed by eye-rays from the downscale set). Fancier booze. Fancier food. More choices of kitchenware. KAYAKS! 

Okay, it’s true: we’re in the middle of the desert about a zillion miles from navigable water, and no, you’re right, noooo I do not need a kayak. Just saying. That’s all. Just sayin’.

Once I get started driving over to PVCC three times a week, I believe I’ll be making Costco runs at the 101 and Cave Creek.

Over budget!

Lordie! So far am I over this month’s budget, I’ve given up trying to restrain the spending. As usual when I decide to indulge myself early in the budget cycle with a sorta expensive but affordable purchase, every damnfool thing that costs money to fix has popped up or gone wrong. 

To start with, I bought the chair and gaudy pillows to go with ($334) 

Then the locksmith showed up and miraculously fixed the museum-quality antique lock at the downtown house ($50); the pool went on the fritz ($135); I ran out of pool shock treatment chemicals ($53), the air conditioning company called to inquire after payment of a bill racked up last March for routine annual maintenance, which I mistakenly thought they’d charged on AMEX then and so filed and forgot ($120); Costco blindsided me with a demand for membership renewal ($53); we installed gutters on the downtown house ($353); and FINALLY after a year of stubbornly offering ugly Bermuda shorts and uglier pedal-pushers, Costco came forth with the style of summer shorts I love and that evidently has gone out of fashion ($56 for three pair). 

The upshot of these frolics: $702.51 worth of red ink. 

All is not lost, though. 

Last month, I fronted my S-corporation, The Copyeditor’s Desk, $531 in start-up costs and office supplies, which I put on the card and paid out of my cash flow. Since then, the corporation has earned enough to cover those expenses. As it develops, with careful bookkeeping, you’re alllowed have the corporation repay its debt to you. So, CE Desk will cover about $530 of this month’s shortfall. 

That brings the overrun down to a manageable $353.There’s plenty in the Indulgences & Surprise Expenses savings account to cover this. 

Meanwhile, M’hijito said he’d pay half the gutter cost, erasing another $176 of red ink, bringing the overerun down to a mere $177. It’s not really necessary for him to do that, though, since a) I didn’t expect it and b) he keeps insisting on paying my bill every single time we go out to eat. By now he’s easily forked over more than $177 in free sandwiches, breakfast platters, tacos, sushi, and beer. 

Today is the 14th. Because my budget cycle is set up to coincide with the AMEX billing cycle, it ends on the 20th. I actually have all the food, gas, and supplies I need to tide me over for another seven days, and so in principle I could do a no-buy week to stanch the flow of red. Experiences shows that’s karmically risky, though—the last time I tried that stunt, the dog died, expensively.

Okay, okay, I know: superstitious! But truly, a $702 personal budget overrun passeth all understanding. So instead of vowing not to part with another penny between now and the 20th, I’m just gunna lay low here. Spend normally. Maybe not spend very much. But no no-spend weeks. Maybe Lady Karma won’t notice

Apply for a job halfway across the country?

Well, there’s an opening in Atlanta, at a very fine university. They’re looking for a managing editor to run a medical research journal. My résumé and cover letter are ready to send, and now all that remains is click an e-mail button and send the stuff winging its way through the ether to the hiring committee. A statement of desired salary is required  for consideration. One of my mentors thinks I can probably ask around $90,000 and get $85,000; another is advising me to ask $90,000 to $100,000, plus relocation costs.

That’s an astonishing amount of money to me. The cost of living in Atlanta is slightly lower than it is here, and a quick perusal of the real estate listings shows some very sweet places for what I can get for my house. 

So…why haven’t I sent my stuff?

Well. The truth is, I’m not at all sure I want to work that hard. 

When I first saw the ad, I figured the journal was probably a semimonthly or, at most, a monthly. Closer study, however, reveals that the thing comes out weekly! It publishes a hundred pages a week!! The M.E. has seven staffers, more contributing editors than a person can easily count, and an editorial board of two score medical researchers. 

Mathematical Biosciences and Engineering, our busiest client journal, comes out six times a year and keeps my most ambitious editor busy most of the time. Our client editor is not very demanding and in fact discourages us from riding herd on the writers very hard.  

This thing I’m looking at is the real McCoy. It follows AMA style, and I expect it’s very well edited, indeed. The senior editor, who is in New York, can’t possibly have time to comb the worst of the nits out of several hundred manuscript pages a week, and so those seven editors (one of the seven underlings is an admin assistant, leaving six associate editors and one managing editor) are dealing with some seriously raw copy. Just because you have an M.D. doesn’t mean you can write your way out of a paper bag. 

All of which goes to say that this job could very well amount to a 90-hour-a-week gig.

I find myself wondering if I want to work 90 hours a week. Or any hours a week. Maybe I’d rather spend the rest of my life loafing, living on savings and Social Security, and teaching a few freshman comp classes.

You know, I’ve become so disaffected with my job that I feel I don’t want to work at all. Not at GDU, not anywhere. I stay away from the place as much as possible, because no one notices whether I’m there or not and because the two-hour round-trip commute feels like an utter waste of time (so does sitting around the office with little or nothing to do). My house is so much work it expands to fill all of my waking hours: I can easily keep myself busy from 5:00 in the morning to 10:00 at night with yardwork, pool work, housework, grocery shopping, the Workman Waltz, financial management, blogging, and freelancing. Who has time for a job?

Especially for a job that’s going to soak up every living, breathing minute of your conscious existence?

Plus it’s a long haul from here to Atlanta. I don’t know anyone there, and I don’t make friends easily. I’d have to sell my house, which could take several months. Where would I live until I got the cash from this place to buy a new place? I’d have to rent.

Of course, with a real, living wage I could afford to rent: the proceeds from this house could go straight into savings. Or it could be used to pay off the downtown house, freeing my son to quit his hated job and go back to school. 

And it must be said that if I could hold a job like that even for three years, I could recover handsomely from the crash of the Bush economy. Three years of frugal living on a decent salary would leave me well set for retirement; five years would guarantee security for the rest of my life. By then the recession will have passed (we hope) and my savings would allow me to buy a nice place in New Mexico and live happily ever after.

If I lived to see an ever after…

Image:
Midtown Atlanta by 
Evilarry at Wikipedia Commons

Beet & Rice Salad

So many things to write about! I’ve been goofing off this week, partly to do actual work (can you imagine?) and partly out of incorrigible laziness, and so a lot of ideas for posts remain to be written.
Copyright © 2009 Funny about Money 
First, this cool (literally) salad, a knock-off from an old Julia Child recipe:

Salade à la d’Argenson, à la Sonora

As the weather hotted up, I pulled out the last of the garden beets. There weren’t many, since a few had already gone to seed, turning their red tubers fibrous and woody. I wanted to use them in a particularly delicious salad from Julia Child. The basic recipe goes like this: 

You need:

• 2 cups cooked rice
 2 cups diced cooked or canned beets
 4 Tbsp finely chopped green onion
 3/4 cup vinaigrette (recipe below; you can use a good bottled vinegar & oil-style salad dressing)
• 1 1/2 or 2 cups mayonnaise (bottled or home-made; recipe below)
• fresh or dried herbs, such as tarragon, marjoram, basil, thyme, summer savory, etc.
• salt and pepper to taste
• 1 cup of cooked vegetables, such as peas, green beans, cauliflower, broccoli, carrots, asparagus; you also can add such things as diced raw apple, grated raw carrots, cut-up cooked beef, pork, poultry, or fish, canned tuna or salmon. I defrosted some mixed frozen veggies for my version.
• garnish such as olives, anchovies, sliced hard-boiled egs, watercress, or parsley 

In a good-sized bowl, toss the cooked beets, onions, and rice together with the vinaigrette. Allow this combination to marinate for awhile in the refrigerator. Meanwhile, make mayonnaise and add a handful of chopped fresh herbs or a tablespoon or so of dried herbs. If you’re using bottle mayo, add the herbs to the mayo in the course of the next step.

Shortly before serving, add the rest of the ingredients to the beets and rice, and then fold in the mayonnaise. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Garnish as desired with one or more of the suggested condiments.

I didn’t have enough beets, and so I decided to add a can of cannellini beans to the rice-and-beet mixture. The result worked wonderfully: beans absorb vinaigrette with every bit as much enthusiasm as rice does.

Here’s how to make enough vinaigrette for this recipe:

You need:

• a measuring cup, at least 1 cup capacity 
 1/4 cup lemon juice or wine vinegar
 enough olive oil to fill the measuring cup to the 3/4 cup line
• a clove of garlic, minced
• salt and pepper to taste
• maybe a dash of dried herbs—fines herbes or herbes de Provence work nicely 

Combine the ingredients and whip with a fork to mix thoroughly. Pour this over the warm rice and beet mixture and fold together well.

And here’s how to make mayo in a blender…lo! Mayonnaise that actually tastes like REAL MAYO!

You need:

 an egg
• 1 tsp Dijon-style mustard
 1/2 tsp salt
 2 Tbsp lemon juice or vinegar
• 1 cup olive oil, or 1/2 cup olive oil and 1/2 cup mild salad oil

If you’re using two kinds of oil, combine them in your measuring cup. Notice that real mayonnaise doesn’t contain sugar. I don’t think bottled mayo did, either, when I was a kid. I never could stand that sicky-sweet Miracle Whip gunk, but now even Best Foods (Hellman’s in the East) is full of sugar. I guess they must have been forced to add it to compete with Miracle Whip, what with America’s sweet tooth so carefully cultivated by the foodoid industry.

Break the whole egg into the blender jar. Add the salt and lemon juice. Cover the blender jar with thelid (!!) and puree the ingredients at full blast for about 30 seconds. The egg mixture should be thick and foamy. Now, with the blender buzzing away, uncover the jar (most lids have a capped opening that you can undo for this purpose) and dribble in the oil in a thin stream of droplets.

The mayo will get thicker and thicker. If it gets too thick to absorb all the oil, add a few drops of lemon juice or vinegar. 

For this recipe, you want to add lots of green herbs to the mayo. I add them just before the sauce is finished, before it gets very thick, just to keep things relatively simple. For the salade, I used a handful or so of fresh garden herbs…out in the backyard, I found thyme, marjoram, basil, and tarragon.

Because so few beets were available, this week’s version was not as colorful as a real salade à la d’Argenson is supposed to be. If you follow Julia’s recipe, the result is a brilliant purple-red. I find it very appealing, and it is delicious. But you should be aware that some people either don’t care for beets or think the Day-Glo magenta comes from food coloring, and they won’t touch it. I’ve taken this salad to first to a church social and later to a potluck gathering of people whose tastes I thought would be more urbane, only to come home with a whole bowl of uneaten salad…so, don’t try to feed it to strangers! 😉

 

Fight a-brewing over COBRA

Whatever it is, GDU makes it hard. And they use every electronic convenience that’s ever been invented to make it harder. Yesterday afternoon I discovered they’ve got a way to do people who are forced to take early retirement out of the reduced, marginally affordable rate for COBRA.

The American Recovery and Reinvestment Act of 2009 mandates that employees who are canned involuntarily are to pay only 35 percent of the usual exorbitant COBRA premium; the remaining 65 percent is to be reimbursed to the employer by the government. Assuming the State of Arizona keeps its current healthcare plans at the next open enrollment (decidedly not a foregone conclusion!), my COBRA cost would drop from $488 a month to $171. This will make it affordable for me to continue my medical insurance coverage between December, when I’m to be thrown out on the street, and May, when I will be eligible for Medicare.

I wanted to confirm this. GDU’s HR page says nothing about the ARRA reduction. So I sent a message through HR’s faceless e-mail form asking what exactly the deal is with the reduced COBRA rates. They will not answer the telephone over there, so the only ways you can get an answer to a question are either to go in person to their office, which is far off-campus and requires you to move your car and park in a lot decaled off-limits to visitors, or to go through the e-mail form and wait about a month for an answer.

This is the same bunch, bear in mind, that told me if you are laid off, you’re not entitled to your RASL benefits, which for me amount to a severance package worth about $20,000. RASL is a program that pays retirees as much as 50 percent of their hourly wage for each hour of accumulated sick leave; the state GAO’s page is not accessible because it’s been posted in a program that Safari and Firefox can’t read. On the West campus, HR employees gave La Maya the same story. Turns out they were dispensing wrong information.

So finally, late last week ago along comes an e-mail from an HR underling, probably a student worker, referring me to the same HR page that contains not one word about the ARRA reduction for COBRA. So I responded to her form message and pointed out that there’s a new law providing a cut in COBRA costs but HR’s page says nothing about it. She didn’t have a clue.

Yesterday I get a snippy e-mail from someone else over there referring me to a State of Arizona web page. Notice that neither of these women so far has answered my basic question: what will the reduced premium on the EPO plan be? This is not hard, is it? Just confirm that the regular COBRA premium is $488/month and that ARRA applies. They don’t want to talk to you. They just want to send you through punch-a-button phone mazes or to the Internet.

So, while I’m navigating their incredibly complicated and only marginally comprehensible site, what do I come upon but this statement, hidden in a link under the FAQs, which appear at the bottom of the page:

Are retirees eligible for premium assistance?
No, retirees are not eligible for premium assistance. Former employees eligible for retirement should consider how delaying pension benefits (for the purpose of being eligible for premium assistance) would impact their participation in the Retiree Accumulated Sick Leave (RASL) Program.

Say WHAT?!?

To get the reduced COBRA, you have to forego your retirement benefits and evidently lose your chance to collect your RASL benefit!!!!!  (Understand: You have 14 days after your last day to claim your RASL. Fail to collect promptly, and you lose it.)

Of course, I came across this about 9:00 at night. So this morning as soon as state offices open, I’m going to have to get on the phone to the few people I’ve found downtown who will actually speak to you. There’s a woman at the General Accounting Office who hates GDU’s HR circus and who will give you a straight answer. I also have to drive my car out to Tempe, instead of taking the train, because I’ll have to go in person to HR and make an appointment to join one of the pending retirees’ classes so I can ask about this there.

It gets better! 

Continuing to explore the Internet, I went to the Department of Labor, where I found a link to an Internal Revenue Service document on the subject of COBRA premium assistance. Way, way down in this memo, on page 19, this interesting statement occurs:

The effect on eligibility for the premium reduction of an offer of retiree coverage that is not COBRA continuation coverage at the same time that COBRA continuation coverage is offered depends on whether the retiree coverage is offered under the same group health plan as the COBRA continuation coverage or under a different group health plan. If offered under the same group health plan, the offer of the retiree coverage has no effect on an individual’s eligibility for the ARRA premium reduction.

The State’s retiree health plans are exactly the same as the ones offered to employees. The cost to retirees is the same as the full cost of COBRA: exorbitant and unaffordable. 

So, apparently, the State of Arizona’s policy on the COBRA relief directly contradicts federal rules. No doubt they’ll have some way to to claim the four identical healthcare insurance plans are magically “different” because they’re offered to retirees.

Unless this is straightened out between now and December, I’m going to have to do battle over that. The feds have an appeal process for those who are denied:

ARRA provides an individual who requests and is denied treatment as an assistance eligible individual with the right to a review of the denial, within 15 business days after the receipt of the application for review, by the Department of Labor (or the Department of Health and Human Services in connection with COBRA continuation coverage that is provided other than pursuant to ERISA).

No clue in this document, of course, as to where you go to lodge such a protest. So it promises to devolve into a great hassle.

If I have to pay the full COBRA gouge, it will cost me $2,500 to stay insured for the five months from the time I leave state service to the time I’m eligible for Medicare. That’s almost a full month’s salary! I’m setting that much aside from emergency savings, but jayzus! How do they expect people to eat?

And notice how complicated it was to find information that hints the State’s policy is wrong! The whole idea is to make it as difficult as possible to get the facts by blitzing you with tons of boilerplate that looks like it’s telling you something but that does not answer specific questions and then by refusing to respond to real-world questions either over the phone or by e-mail. Most people would have given up before they came across that IRS document, and precious few would have plowed through 19 pages of bureaucratese to find the relevant statement about retiree health plans. I didn’t do so, myself: I found it by using the Mac’s Searchlight function to track down the character chain “retire.” Even that took some doing, since “retire” appears 14 times in the document. I’d venture that not  many workers nearing retirement age would know to do that—especially not those in low-paying jobs that don’t require computer skills, the very workers who most need the COBRA reduction.

Why do you suppose GDU and the State of Arizona want to avoid letting employees know about the ARRA reduction of COBRA premiums? In theory, it’s no skin off their teeth: the federal government reimburses employers for the 65 percent reduction. It may be just flaming incompetence. Or it could reflect the leadership’s doctrinaire right-wing dementia, which holds that anything having to do with government in any way is bad news and that workers should be made to work for the lowest wages and the fewest benefits possible. 

Whatever the reason, it looks like I’ll be spending the first few weeks or months of my enforced retirement in a battle royal with GDU and the State of Arizona. Wheeee! I can hardly wait.

Copyright © 2009 Funny about Money 

Ikea break!

M’hijito called early this afternoon to ask if I’d like to drive with him to the far side of the galaxy, for the purpose of visiting Ikea. The real, ulterior motive was to get my car, not me, to go with him: I have a van; he drives a rickety, out-of-production Toyota sportsoid car.

Couldn’t have called at a better moment. About forty-five minutes earlier, I had somehow managed to hit exactly the right mystery keyboard command to screw up six hours’ worth of work on the Carnival of Personal Finance. 

To start with, as usual the thing is about the size of the Andromeda galaxy. Then I got this bright idea about all these photos that oooooohhhh yes, I just had to download and plug into the post. Each of these dorked up spacing here and there, which had to be fixed by trial and error, because in WordPress WYSINQWYG (What You See Is Not Quite What You Get). After hours of lovingly fiddling around, I sat back and sighed: a true work of art! It was gorgeous. It was beautiful. It was freaking perfect!

Then…damndamndamn!…my fingers slipped on the keyboard. I have no idea what set of keys I hit, but it was at least four of them. The image on the monitor jumped, jiggled, did a little belly-dance…and settled into something that looked kinda strange.

Whatever th’heck I did, it 

• deleted every hard and soft return after every single unwrapped line;
• deleted the last image I’d entered, which I’d placed three from the end;
 undid the reformatting I’d done to the three images following the now-disappeared image;
• returned the red coloring on the little Editor’s Favorites heart symbols to black;
• undid the formatting I’d carefully instilled to force several entries to wrap around other images without looking stupid; AND…
• saved the result! 

Gaaaaaahhh!!!!!

Ctrl-Z Ctrl-Z Ctrl-Z Ctrl-Z Ctrl-Z Ctrl-Z

And Hal: stop calling me “Dave”!

Well, no amount of Ctrl-Zing would restore the disappeared formatting and data. So I had to do all that over…it took about two hours.

If it had crashed the file after performing its reformatting antics, that would have been fine—I had saved just seconds before. Resuscitation from an unsaved version would have been a lot easier. Thought I wuz gunna die!

So all this made a junket to a crowded, crazy-making box store full of cut-rate merchandise sound good. 

M’hijito has been needing a bed, some bookshelves for his office, and a little table for beside the bed for lo! these past two or three years. He finally gave up on saving up enough to buy the Danish furniture he craves—on sale, it was over $3,000. That’s more than he wants to spend, under the best of conditions, when a) he wants to go to graduate school and b) he needs to preserve savings to maintain the albatross of a house his mother got him into. So, despite having resolved never to allow another stick of Ikea furniture into his home, he caved.

He did pretty well, IMHO: For $500, he scored a decent-looking platform bed, a matching side table, a seven-foot bookcase, a child’s low-to-the-ground table to hold the gigantic printer his father gave him, a colander, some CFLs, a couple of rugs, and a few other small kitchen items. 

So that brightened the day. The Carnival is now ready to go up tomorrow morning…it won’t, of course, because WP thinks 03:06 May 31, when it’s really 19:06. So I’ll have to fiddle with it whenever I get out of bed on June 1, if I live that long. Having been up since 3:00 a.m. and having worked or trudged around Ikea every single minute since then, I intend to drug myself with antihistamines by way of trying to sleep until dawn.

Which reminds me: I forgot the laundry in the dryer and I haven’t washed the sheets yet. And so…to work.

Copyright © 2009 Funny about Money