When I told my husband that my ob-gyn had recommended two diagnostic exams, he requested that I try out the the insurance company’s online “cost estimator” tool. This exercise was about being an educated patient, not necessarily going with the lowest cost facility, he assured me. “So, we’re going to shop for health care the way we shop for refrigerators?” was the sarcastic response edging its way closer to the tip of my tongue.
“He said I was gay,” reported my nearly nine year old son after arriving home from school one day last week.
It was a warm March day, and he was walking home with a few school friends. To cool off, he rolled-up his pants, revealing his skinny calves planted firmly in a pair of hot pink athletic socks.
There is a professional class of heroes which typically includes teachers, emergency workers, and the military. But another, less noticed group, deserves mention: service workers. Those customer-facing, often minimally paid people whose work keeps communities humming.
This digital space grew from my need for a physical space, specifically a 3.5″ x 2″ piece of paper. Well, 50 – 100 of those pieces of paper.
Recently, when I offered my overstock of fresh carrots (a story for another time) to my neighbor, she told me she couldn’t use them because she had already planned her family’s meals for the week. I marveled at the level of organization involved with that feat. At my house, dinners are not so much planned as pieced together like a puzzle, a nightly ritual of desperation, creativity, and scavenging.