Note to self ...!

It's been a fairly quiet week this week here at Barlow Towers.  Mr B has been away on his travels again (this time to St Johns in Newfoundland) and Youngest has been on a writing course for the 8th Grade at his new school (where thankfully he made lots of new friends ... the majority of whom seem to be girls ... funny that). Unfortunately on his first day he had to leave early for a trip to the dentist to have 4 stubborn baby teeth removed in preparation for having his braces fitted.  He was still his usual comical self though, declaring that the current song from The Weeknd ... 'Can't feel my face', (which was playing on the radio as we drove home) should be dentist theme tune :D

Anyway, this week I have compiled a list of things I have learned so far since moving to Arizona.  

1. Don't lick your finger and then rub at a mark on the side of your car when it has been parked outside in the midday sun.  It burns.  And you will get a blister.
2. A 'sandwich' is not a sandwich at all and more often than not a burger in disguise.
3. Americans cannot make a decent cup of tea (sorry, harsh but fair).  Leading on to No. 4 ...
4. Iced tea is disgusting.
5. Whenever you attend any kind of medical appointment, doctor, dentist, optician ... you will leave several hundred dollars poorer.
6. Jumping onto a hot car seat whilst wearing shorts can be painful and seatbelt 'branding' is unattractive (and also painful).
7. Always look for a parking space under a tree even if it means walking a few minutes longer (see No. 6)
8. If you order chips with your steak you will most likely get a side of crisps.  I am sure Americans realise all too well that you really wanted 'fries' but love to have a laugh at our expense.
9. The British sense of humour does not travel well across the pond and at best you will met with a blank stare and the underlying assumption that you are in fact barking mad.
10. The majority of drivers here do not know how to use indicators preferring to just surprise you to keep you on your toes.
11. Mosquitos love me.
12. Always check your shoes for scorpions before putting them on.
13. With a few exceptions, American TV is rubbish.  When you do find something half decent to watch, it will be punctuated by adverts every two minutes, mostly for drugs with hideous side effects.
14. Never leave the house without a bottle of water.
15. Margaritas are practically a national dish and therefore compulsory.

Finally, as I was writing this earlier this afternoon, Mr B shouted for us to come quickly and look outside in the garden.  To our amazement, there was a wild bobcat having a cheeky drink from our pool!  Mr B managed to snap this picture before it trotted off - not the best quality but not bad under pressure!

Thanks for stopping by and have a great week.

TTFN

x

A double-oscopy ... !

So this week the day of the dreaded colonoscopy finally dawned.  (You may recall from a previous update that routine screening is carried out here once you reach the age of 50).  Well, I say day ... it was really two days including the prep (plus one evening of complete misery!).  Seriously though, if you have to have one, don't panic.  The procedure itself really isn't that bad ... the preparation beforehand however ... well .... !  This was my experience (don't worry if you are eating your breakfast, I have spared you the graphic details!)

The process kicked off a couple of weeks ago with a visit to the Gastroenterologist, who was a very lovely and (mortifyingly) good looking, young doctor.  We chatted for a while about what had brought us to Phoenix, him from New York and us from the UK, before he went on discuss the procedure.  Cringe.

"Have you had a colonoscopy before?" he asked 

"No"

"Oh ... really?" he sounded surprised.  "But you have the colon screening programme in the UK right?"

"I don't think so ... well, I don't know of anyone who has had a colonoscopy for screening purposes"

"What?  No ... I think you are mistaken.  Everyone has this screening programme now!"  He seemed adamant, so thought it must be me.  I am aware of the breast cancer screening that kicks in at 50, but not colon screening.  I certainly never received any information on it, nor do I know of anyone who has?  Odd.  But he was like a dog with a bone and vowed look it up later.  Whatever.  

He then went on to describe the procedure he would be carrying out double cringe plus instructions to be followed beforehand - no food at all the day before, clear liquids only (nothing red or purple) plus a prescription to be collected for a preparation which would need to be drunk the evening before  ... uh oh

"You will definitely want to stay at home and be close to a bathroom ... " cosmic.  He then went on to explain that he was also going to carry out an endoscopy at the same time ... oh good, both ends ... as I had casually mentioned a minor swallowing problem to my GP at my new patient checkup remind me to poke her in the eye when I see her.

"Don't worry though,  I am going to put you to sleep and you won't feel a thing..." Eeek!

Whilst I was sitting with one of his assistants fixing an appointment a little while later, he came rushing over to triumphantly inform me that he had looked up screening in the UK and could confirm that the colonoscopy screening programme was indeed in place for everyone, but started at 60 and not 50 as is the case here.  Really??? Well it's news to me. Would be interested to know if any UK readers can confirm and restore my faith in the good old NHS?

Later that week, whilst doing my shopping at Safeway, I remembered to collect the prescription.  Btw, there is a much better system for that here - no queuing at the chemist to hand in a prescription and then hanging around until it's ready.  Doctor sends it automatically to your nominated choice of chemist and you just collect when convenient.  Perfect.

I strolled over to the pharmacy counter to collect ...

"Here you are Mrs Barlow ..." said the chemist handing over a huge box. "That will be $85". 

"Haha, sorry, I thought you said $85 for a minute there ..."

"Oh yes sorry ...  it's actually $85 and 6 cents."

Holy crap!! (pardon the pun) $85?! ... for a laxative?!? 

... or as Ethan quipped later, "...$85 for a sh*t night in ...!" 

To add insult to injury, I also received a call later that day from the doctors office who cheerfully advised that his costs for the endoscopy would be $1,750 and as we had not yet reached the deductible (excess) on our insurance, I would be liable for the full amount.  As I was still standing with mouth open in shock, she cheerfully added that I may also receive separate bills from the anaesthetist and the hospital, as this charge just related to the doctors costs.  Bloody hell!  Well, that's the other kidney gone then.

Fast forward to Wednesday morning.  Right, can't have any breakfast so think I'll just have a coffee ... oh wait, can't have any milk ... right, water it is then ... sigh. By lunchtime I was absolutely starving (not helped by making Youngest a bacon sarnie for his lunch ... pure torture) so decided to make myself a bowl of 'low sodium chicken broth' which was on the allowed list.  Bleugh!  Tasted like greasy washing up water.  After two more spoonfuls it was quickly poured down the sink and I resorted to a bowl of lime jelly, which I had prepared the day before.  Not amazing but better than nothing I suppose. 

5pm: time to start drinking the first batch of gunk ... oh god!  This was by far the worst part of the whole proceeding, (but in fairness, not quite as bad as I had been expecting).  The best way I can describe it is like drinking slightly thick, slimy, sea water.  Disgusting! There was a litre of the stuff to drink at 5pm followed by a further litre at 8pm (plus an additional half a litre of water after each) made all the more torturous by having to drink it in doses of 250 ml every 15 minutes.  I had decided to go with the practice nurse's advice and mixed it with some lemon flavouring, (which made it taste a bit like a slightly dodgy margarita), and drank it through a large straw to get it down as quickly as possible! Ugh ... done.  By the time I had finished I felt ready to explode! ... Ah.

I won't got into further detail, but i can tell you that I visited the bathroom 30 - 40 times over the next 5 hours ... :-/

At 9 the next morning  ... by now also prohibited from drinking, so as well as being Hank Marvin I now had a raging thirst  ... Mr B took me to the hospital for my appointment.  Well, it said hospital on the outside but it wasn't like any hospital that I had ever been to before ... free valet parking at the main entrance, and once inside a gift shop, coffee bar and a nice cafe (with not a Pyrex tea cup in sight!).  Checked in at the Outpatients reception - plenty of comfortable armchairs but not a single person waiting - and then shown straight round to the Gastroenterology dept by a smiley hospital volunteer.  I was met by an equally lovely Nurse who handed me two gowns and instructed me to put one on so that the opening was down the back, and then the other one the other way round (like a jacket) so that modesty was preserved.  Hallelujah!  No shuffling out of the bathroom like a contortionist trying to hold your gown together at the back to prevent your arse hanging out (and failing miserably)!

Within a few minutes, I was taken through yet more paperwork for signing ... blimey are they paranoid or what?... asked whether I would like a courtesy call the next day to check on me (still waiting for that mind you!), connected to a drip and all ready for my procedure.  I have to say that once again I was very impressed by the whole  process which seemed extremely efficient and timed to perfection.  The only waiting being for the consultant who was running 20 minutes late due to 'a slightly tricky' procedure before mine (eek!).  Whilst I was waiting, a total of 5 different people popped in and out of the room to apologise for keeping me waiting, ask if I was warm enough? did I want another blanket? would I like the fan turned off? was the light too bright? did I think that William would make a much better King than that idiot Charles? ... and did I think that Kate was very like Diana? Yes, really.  

Finally, when the consultant was at last ready, I was also joined by the anaesthetist who asked whether I had had an anaesthetic before and whether I had suffered any reactions. 

"Only nausea ..." I told him

"Ah, but have you had an anaesthetic in the U.S. before?"

"Er ... No"

"Well, no need to worry about feeling sick here.  We use the good stuff!  It's called Propofol ..."

"Erm ... Propofol? Isn't that the one that killed Michael Jackson?!"

"Haha! Yes, that's the one! Here ... can you just sign this form ...?"

The next thing I knew it was all over and I was wheeled to the main entrance by another lovely volunteer, where Mr B was waiting, with a stern warning from the nurses that I was not to drive for 24 hours, otherwise if I was stopped I could be arrested for DUI, (driving under the influence) the penalty for which in Arizona is 30 days in jail!  Orange is not really my colour, so I'm staying put for the rest of today just to be on the safe side!

Next week Ethan is scheduled to visit the dentist to have 4 stubborn baby teeth removed prior to having his braces fitted.  They charge per tooth apparently .... **wanders off whistling suspiciously whilst shiftily looking for a door with a suitable handle and a reel of cotton ...** 

California Love .... !

So this week we had the opportunity to be 'mystery shoppers' at a couple of gorgeous hotels in the San Diego area (the joys of Mr B working in Travel!).   It was tough, but hey, somebody has to do it!

As California is a neighboring state, we decided to make the most of our new location in Arizona and skip the hustle and bustle of the airport (not to mention the expense) and take a leisurely drive instead.   It was an easy drive on long straight roads, and after a stop for lunch halfway, we were sitting with a cold beer by the ocean less than seven hours after we had left Scottsdale (and all for less than $50 in gas.  Bargain!).  The temperature was a good 30 degrees cooler than when we left at a very pleasant 75 deg fahrenheit, although with the high humidity it didn't really feel it if I'm honest!  Thank goodness for sea breezes!

We made a short pitstop after a couple of hours to stock up on water and Ethan bought a bag of fizzy Sour Apple gummy things covered in sugar (yuk) which he proceeded to open in the back of the car once we had resumed our journey.  

"Would you like me to open those for you?"

"Er ... no thanks ... I'm not three you know! ..."

It was patently obvious (to me anyway) what was going to happen next ... bag rips in two ... a gazillion green sticky chews plus half a pound of sugar deposited in tween's lap amid much huffing and moaning.  Great.  Who needs Encyclopedia's these days?  Just get a 13 year old ... they know it all ... apparently.  He was subsequently ordered not to move a muscle until we could fine a place to pull over and he could get out and brush it all off.  He also earned the nickname 'Sugar Pants' for the rest of the week (much to the amusement of Mr B and I :D)!

Our first destination was Del Mar and the hotel L'Auberge - a gorgeous hotel overlooking the ocean, with a 'beach cottage'  feel to it and the most friendly and attentive staff.  If you ever get the opportunity to stay there I would heartily recommend it.  

Del Mar itself is a beautiful spot and was by far my favourite.   It reminded me a little of summer holidays in Cornwall as a child, but with better weather!

Whilst we were there we decided to revisit the zoo, which had been a favorite on our last visit to San Diego some 5 years earlier.  We were not disappointed and it was just as good as we had remembered, if not better.  I think it has to be my favorite zoo of all time!  A lot of the animals however, whilst visible, seemed to be asleep or at best, extremely dozy, and Ethan decided that they must have all been partying after the zoo closed the previous night and were all hungover!  A lovely thought, which made me smile every time we arrived at an enclosure featuring a sleeping bear or a lazy koala!

LOL!

These two also looked like they had a rough night ...

After an extremely relaxing couple of days in Del Mar it was time to move on to La Jolla and the hotel, La Valencia.  

This one had a very different feel to the relaxed beachy atmosphere of L'Auberge and whilst still lovely, was much larger and less personal with a distinct Mediterranean flavor.  The decor included lots of dark wood and terra-cotta painted interiors which gave it a rather gloomy feel I thought.  Still, it was in a prime location overlooking the beautiful ocean once again and La Jolla cove, complete with it's resident seals and sea lions.

After a late lunch at George's At the Cove just a short walk away ... again, can highly recommend both the food and the spectacular view if you are visiting La Jolla ... we spent a lazy afternoon strolling along the bay followed by ... er ... more food and drink!  Speaking of which, Mr B also earned himself a new nickname this week.  Spawned from his seamless ability to hoover up any food left on a plate by either Ethan or I, and the straw hat he has taken to wearing to stop his head getting burnt, Ethan has now declared him to be .... The Great Gutsby! :D

The next morning we headed back into San Diego and the Old Town Trolley Tour.  I have to say, I do love a City Tour!  Whenever we visit a new city, we always try and incorporate one of the 'hop on hop off' bus tours if possible as not only is it is a great way to learn about the city (although on one of the 'hops' Ethan complained that the elderly Chinese lady that he ended up sitting next to spent the whole time talking very loudly in Chinese to her husband who for some reason was sat in the seat in front .. Lol)  but they also afford a great overview of the main points of interest and help identify the places to linger longer or to maybe go back and visit again another time.

All too soon our California Dreamin' was over and it was time to get back in the car and make our way back home.  Once again, we stopped for a break around half way in a town called Yuma, just over the Arizona border, at a great place that had been recommended to us by a friend (thanks Merylee!) called Penny's Diner.  I knew we were back in Arizona on account of my eyeballs burning in their sockets as we got out of the car. 

Whilst we were there,  an elderly local gentleman who I guess had heard our english accents, wandered over to our table and was keen to know where we were from, where we had been and where we were going.  He looked like he had walked straight off the set of an episode of The Beverly Hillbillies, complete with dungarees, ill fitting baseball cap and no teeth!  On chatting to him and his wife however (who was wearing an equally ill fitting baseball cap emblazoned with the word 'JESUS' across the front ... which funnily enough is just what I thought...) they were actually really sweet.  She informed us that her husband was 93 and had been a pilot in WWII flying bombers for the US Air Force and training young recruits and after the war he had flown the planes back from their base in Florida to the 'graveyard' in Arizona.  He looked amazing for his age and despite having no teeth and a hearing aid, still had a full set of marbles and a glint in his eye!  I love chance encounters like that - you can meet such interesting people (you can also meet some complete fruit loops of which I have also had my fair share!) - and I could have happily spent the afternoon chatting to them both.  Sadly though, it was time to pile back into the car and some three hours later we arrived back in Scottsdale, relaxed and suitably cooled by the ocean breeze and ready to take on the heat of the desert once more.

Thought you might also like to see a couple more pictures taken by Mr B of some birds he spotted on our tour ... no not that kind ....

Hummingbird spotted in a garden at Old Town San Diego

A kingfisher snapped in the Aviary at the zoo - beautiful!

And finally, how could I not include one of his (many) sunset pictures ... just for you Adam Booth! TTFN and have a great week!

x

Nationwide 1 - Barclays 0 ...!

So you would think that the simple matter of updating your address with a bank you have been with for over 30 years (and where you are a 'Premier' customer) would be quite straightforward wouldn't you?  Sadly, dear readers, it appears you would be wrong.

Settle yourselves down with a cuppa and make yourselves comfortable while I tell you a story ...

Prior to our move across the pond, I went into Barclays to advise that we would be moving to the United States and to enquire firstly, whether there was anything specific we needed to do with regard to notifications etc., (was advised none) and secondly, to ask what the procedure would be to update our address once we arrived (as we would be in a hotel for 10 days before moving into a temporary apartment for another month or so until we found a house to rent).
"Do you have online banking?"
"Yes"
"Oh, then you can just update directly online, or you can call us to let us know the new address as soon as you know".
Great.  That works.  Except it didn't.

After the initial 10 days in a hotel, we moved into an apartment, with an address,  and after establishing that we would be there for another 6 weeks,  I decided that it would be prudent to update all concerned parties at banks, building societies etc. with details of the temporary address to mitigate any potential fraud issues etc., accepting that this would all have to be done again in another couple of months.

Right, let's just log in to my Nationwide account  ...here we are .. update personal information ... update address .... click here if you are moving to a foreign address ... click...  Done.  Excellent.  Now for Barclays.  update personal information ... update address ... Oh.  Computer says no.  'Sorry. You are not able to update this information online.  Please call into your nearest branch or if you have telephone banking, please call xxxx-xxx-xxxx."

Slightly irritated, I called early the next morning bearing in mind the 8 hour time difference.  After wasting 5 minutes listening to a recording of all the other (totally irrelevant) products and services offered by Barclays, followed by the lengthy multiple choice selections to determine which 'service' I wanted (I actually had to do this twice as got distracted half way through and missed the number for the option I wanted!), plus several minutes of mind numbing hold music,  I eventually got through to a human being.  "God knows how much this is all costing!" I thought   (I can tell you that I subsequently discovered it had cost $30).   I explained that we had just moved to the United States, and needed to update the address on our joint checking account.
"Can you please give me the last 3 numbers of your passcode?"
"Sorry? Which passcode?"
"The last 3 numbers of your telephone banking passcode"
"I don't have telephone banking.  I have only ever used Online banking, which won't let me update online and has directed me to this number"
"Oh.  Well I will have to ask you a whole series of additional security questions then"  I detected the distinct whiff of irritation in her voice.  Probably getting very close to the end of her shift.
After several minutes of Gestapo-like interrogation, she was satisfied I was who I said I was and took the new address details. Success.
"So, as this is a joint account, details are updated for both myself and my husband are they?"
"No.  He will have to ring up as well to update his address ..."  Lovely
"Right OK.  As we will be moving again in another 6 weeks, is there an easier way I can do this next time?"
"Oh yes.  I can set you up with telephone banking and send you a passcode which you can quote when you move again."
"OK thank you.  Will that arrive in time though?"
"Oh, yes, it should just take a couple of weeks".

The next day the same painful procedure was repeated by Mr B and some days later, after much checking online, our account finally reflected the new US address. Yay!

Fast forward 6 weeks and another move.  Despite checking our mailbox every day, no telephone banking passcode had arrived.  **Sighs** After pouring myself a very large cup of coffee and steeling myself for another painful conversation, I called Barclays again.
"Can you please give me numbers 3 and 6 of your passcode?" dear God
"I don't have a telephone banking passcode.  You were supposed to send me one but it never arrived."
"Oh sorry about that.  In that case you will have to write a letter ..." Oh you have got to be kidding?!
"But I updated it by telephone when we first moved 6 weeks ago, so why can't I do that again now?  I am happy for you to ask me any additional security questions you need to..."
"It's for security reasons and to reduce the risk of potential fraud"
Right.  So, if I am understanding correctly, I can't update it online because of the risk of fraud, even though I have a secure PINsentry device which would allow me to transfer thousands of pounds to any account I choose;  I can't update it on the telephone because I don't have a telephone banking passcode, even though I could provide details from my account over the last 30 years, but it's OK to put all my personal details and details of my bank account in a letter mailed from the US, which will take at least 10 days and quite frankly could end up anywhere for all I know?!

Right, right ... if that's what it takes.  With fingers furiously flying across the keyboard, said letter was duly written and mailed that afternoon (after a 10 mile round trip to Post Office as the nearest is 5 miles away).  Well at least it should now be finally sorted right?  Wrong.

Twenty days later, I collected a letter from our mailbox from Barclays Bank addressed to Mr M C Barlow.   Oh well, at least they have got our new address updated now then.  When Mr B returned home that evening and opened the letter it began:

Dear Mr Barlow.  Oh great, thanks, clearly I am a mere minion ...  Thank you for your recent written change of address request.  Checks original letter ... yep not going mad, definitely says from Beverley R Barlow...  Unfortunately we cannot change the address associated with the account detailed above because we have not received any certified identification and new address proof.... Oh for the love of God!
If you are registered for Online banking you can update your address using your PINsentry device ... er, no you can't ... or alternatively if you are in the UK ... we're not ... call in to any branch of Barclays.  If you would like to resubmit your request by post, please have your photographic ID and proof of address photocopied, stamped and certified by a Solicitor, Notary or Governmental official ...WHAT THE F.....?!!!!

Sensing I was more than a little annoyed, Mr B kindly offered to call the bank the next morning when he got to work and sort it all out.  When he returned that evening he announced smugly that it was all sorted, address had been changed, notes updated on our file and telephone banking passcode on its way for future reference.  Oh right.  Well done!

Two week's later whilst performing a bank reconciliation (I know ... impressed or what?), I thought I would just double check to confirm all was now reflected correctly.  It came as no great surprise to find that the old 'temporary' US address was still showing under personal details.  After counting to 10... twice ... I managed to find under the 'What would you like to do?' section of the website (sadly what I really wanted to do was not listed) a well hidden option entitled 'Make a complaint'.  After detailing the facts as succinctly as I could I hit 'Send' and promptly received an email advising that my complaint would be responded to within 5 business days. Good. Hopefully that will save another annoying phone call to the UK 'service centre' again.  After 11 business days had elapsed it was with gritted teeth and sheer determination I picked up the phone.

After explaining the issue once again, the girl (and I say girl, as she sounded about 12) on the other end of the phone, apologized most profusely and assured me not to worry, she would put it right this minute.
"If you could just give me the last 4 digits of your passcode ..."  Shoot me now.

After another 10 minutes going through the sorry tale, being told that she was not able to update on the phone and I would have to write a letter, being put on hold for a further 5 minutes whilst she went off to speak to her Mum Supervisor, advising that she had confirmed the same, she eventually asked if I would like to be put through to the complaints department? Quite frankly love, I would rather stick needles in my eyes than have to go through all this again but ... Yes please.

After two more sets of security questions and another lengthy exchange for the young man in the Complaints Dept. to understand the issue, he finally confirmed that he had updated the address and all was now correct.
"It's very strange though, I can't find any record of your letter or our reply on your file"
"Well, that's probably because you replied to my husband, so if you have look under his name you will probably find it."
"Oh no sorry, I am not allowed to do that for data protection reasons ..."  Of course you're not
He was full of apologies, agreeing that indeed, it should not be this difficult to update details in order to prevent potential fraud and that he had credited £100 to our account to cover phone calls and the inconvenience caused.  Well, that's something I suppose.
"Is there anything else I can do for you today?"
"Yes. Could you please set me up with a telephone banking passcode so that I don't have to go through this pain if we move again in 12 month's time?"
"Yes, we can definitely do that.  You just need to call back tomorrow and speak to the Customer Services team ...."  **slashes wrist with scissors**

As an addendum to the above, I am pleased to report that Marcus's telephone banking card managed to make it's way to the right address (despite being addressed to 'Scottsdail' ... ye Gods) .... however, the  passcode has not arrived.  I have received neither.  If it wasn't such a hassle (complicated even further by being in the US), I would have closed the account weeks ago.  It seems loyalty sadly counts for nothing these days.  And when I can bear it, I may still write a 'Victor Meldrew-esque' letter of complaint to the Chairman of Barclays, but right now I think I'll settle for another Margarita ... dear God, I need one!

The week I discovered that Monsoon was not just a shop on the High Street ...!

I always thought the term 'Monsoon' related to periods of heavy rain only, but since we have been here in Phoenix I have learnt that it actually relates more to the strong winds  which originate from the South West, bringing with them not only torrential downpours and flash flooding, but also dust storms and severe thunderstorms .. Yikes!  Monsoon season here in Arizona is officially recognised as June 15 to September 30 and this week it got well and truly underway!

Around 6.30 on Sunday evening Mr B and Ethan had just popped out to pick up some food, when I heard a loud siren noise coming from the kitchen ... what the hell is that?!! After a moment or two of sheer panic ... Where is it coming from?! What the hell does it mean?! Should I evacuate?! Or cower under the table maybe?! ...  I soon realised that it was coming from my mobile phone which was flashing with an 'Emergency Alert!' ... OMG! OMG!!!!   **Frantically grabs phone whilst adopting Ninja Warrior pose **... 'A dust storm warning is in effect until 8pm ...'  Oh. Not a nuclear attack or an alien invasion then. Phew.  OK people, stand down.  

Within about 5 minutes a howling wind appeared from nowhere blowing everything across the garden, including the sun beds (which helpfully have two wheels on the back!) which I just managed to rush out and rescue before they trundled into the pool, grabbing a cushion as it flew from the sofa
en route ... bet Linda Carter never had this trouble (who incidentally was from Phoenix in case you're interested).  Thankfully the boys had just got back when the sky became dark and ominous and within minutes a violent thunderstorm with some of the most spectacular lightening that I have ever seen was in full force.  This pattern was repeated over the next few evenings and whilst unnerving, no damage done where we were however one of Mr B's colleagues was not so fortunate and lost everything when her house was struck by lightening and set on fire!! Scarey stuff. 

In other news, Ethan's orthodontist follow up went well and 18 month treatment plan agreed.  Braces top and bottom to push back his teeth to where they should be, and two false ones on a retainer to fill the gap until he reaches 21 when he will need two implants. What have I missed...?  Oh yes.  The cost.  A snip at just $5,500 ladies and gents.  $2,000 covered by insurance so just $3,500 to find!!! Think I might have to sell a kidney.   And I don't even want to think how much implants will be by the time he is 21.  Still, maybe by then they will have learned how to grow a new tooth ... or a money tree.

Testing, testing 123 ... and 4 and 5 and 6 !

Hi - me again.  Hope you are all having a great weekend.  I can't believe it is almost the end of June and we have been here for nearly 3 months!!  Where did the time go?!

It finally feels like we are getting more settled and beginning to feel more like we actually live here and less like an extended holiday, which I guess is a good thing.  (Still no progress on the name though, and this week I added a new one to the list.  In addition to Beth, Melody & Barbara, I am now apparently ... Deborah-Lee! Good grief)

This week, after sitting a 2 hour Maths test to determine what he had covered so far, Ethan finalised his subject choices ready for the start of the new school year in August.  The total number of subjects is seven, and so he was thrilled to learn that whilst Maths, English, History, Science and a language (he chose to continue with Spanish) were non negotiable, the requirement for PE/Sports was only a total of 2 years throughout the whole of Middle School.  He was therefore advised that as he had already done it for the last 4 years in the UK he could skip it this year if he wanted to and choose another elective instead.  "Oh, let me think about that for a second .... YES and YES!!"  I can only describe the look on his face as one of pure elation, especially when he discovered that he could elect to do Advanced Media Arts, which concentrates on gaming and designing and building your own game as one of his options!  The other elective he has chosen is Yearbook, where as well as working on designing and publishing the school yearbook it also involves interviewing the students and teachers ... can't wait for that!

This week has also been another week focused on sorting out medical registrations.  In addition to registering Ethan with a Pediatrician and facilitating all the required vaccination updates, I have also now managed to tick off Dentist and Orthodontist, where he has already had full x-Rays and imaging with treatment due to start next week (prior to leaving the UK we were advised that the NHS waiting list was 2 years!).  So this week, I figured it was time I turned my attention to getting the same sorted for myself and Mr B.  Trying to understand the health system here is like wading through treacle and even once you have navigated through the ins and outs of your policy ... what is your deductible; what percentage co-pay you are liable for and how much is your out of pocket threshold ... ??? ... exactly  ... and arrived at a vague understanding of how it all works (and trust me, you would have to be Einstein to do any better than that at this stage), you then have to find a doctor.  In the UK, you simply register the whole family with the practice for your area - end of - like it or not.  There is no choice to be made.  Here, you can have any doctor you like, in any area you like and each member of the family can have a different one of they so chose ... providing they are within your particular insurance company's' 'network'.  I won't bore you with what happens if you happen to go somewhere that is 'out of network' but trust me, this opens up a whole new tin of treacle!  All this choice though just means loads more research to check each one out - qualifications; specialties; patient reviews and of course to ensure the absence of any outstanding malpractice law suits!   Finally, I selected a female Dr. with excellent credentials, great reviews, affiliated to one of the best hospitals (another important factor), and not too far away.  Great! I'll just call to register ...

"Oh sorry, Dr such and such is not accepting any new patients for the time being ..."

Fabulous.  Return to Go.  Do not collect £200. 

Finally, I ended up going for the closest one with the nicest picture that hadn't managed to kill anyone recently ... well I was bored by now, alright?!

I called to make registration enquiries and was offered an appointment for the same week (although I had stressed I didn't currently have any medical complaint so it wasn't urgent) and refreshingly, was asked what time would be the most convenient for me to come and would I like a 7am appointment? Er ... no thanks.  But great to know they actually recognise here that most people have jobs to get to.   I arrived for my 'new patient registration' appointment, assuming it would be a quick in and out affair - 10 minutes at the most.  After checking in and completing the by now familiar 4 page questionnaire **sigh**, I was called in to the doctors office.  A nurse then came in to record height, weight **gulp**, blood pressure, medical history, allergies etc etc. and then a young girl with long blonde hair, wearing a white coat, who looked about 17 came in and went through the same again.  Ah, probably on work experience I summized.  Hope I don't have to do all this again the doctor comes in.  Oh.  It transpired that she was the doctor.  Right.  Well, she was extremely thorough, completing a  'Well Woman' check up and ordering blood tests to check thyroid, cholesterol (ahem ... that will be interesting) etc.

"When was your last mammogram?"

"Oh, a couple of years ago I think" - these only being offered every 3 years in the UK

"OK so I'll send you for that as well as you get one of these every 12 months here".  Great. "What about a colonoscopy?"  Eh? What about a colonoscopy? "When was your last one of those?"

"Er ... never?"

"Right, I'll get you in for that as well as we also do those every 12 months after the age of 50" ... Triffic.

After a good 45 minutes with the doctor, I was then introduced to the 'Wellbeing Counsellor' or some other made up title I can't recall, who was a kindly lady about the same age as me, who asked how I was settling in ... fine thanks ... did I feel depressed after such a big move ... to a new country ... so far away from all our family & friends ... Er, well not until now ... did I have any questions about anything ... how long have you got?!  She actually turned out to be really helpful, recommending a great music school really close by where her son currently took guitar lessons (Ethan has already had his first lesson there this week and loved it!), some great local restaurants and a even a nearby clinic where I could volunteer as a way of getting out and meeting people.  Apparently there is 'a better class of volunteer' there (?!) and they are 'a very social bunch'.  Hmmm, will have to think about that one as whilst it is a great idea, I don't really do hospitals or sick people, and knowing my luck I will end up in a remake of The Stepford Wives! Finally, I left the surgery 1.5 hours after I had entered, with armfuls of paperwork for the various tests I needed to arrange and a follow up appointment for two weeks later to discuss the results. Seriously? Two weeks? Is she kidding?!

When I got home I called the lab re the blood tests ... "oh yes, that's fine, just come along one morning whenever convenient. Just remember not to eat anything before you come."  I dropped in the next day and was seen within 10 minutes and out again in another 5 with results to be sent to the doctor the next day.  Called other clinic re mammogram ... appointment the day after that.  Once again, no waiting, extremely professional & efficient, results ready by the time I had got dressed!! (all normal thank goodness). I would have been waiting for 2-3 weeks back home!  I was seriously impressed.  I hadn't been home long when the phone rang.  It was the consultant's office to make an appointment for the colonoscopy.  Oh God.  There was a free slot that afternoon if that was convenient?  Er ... no it wasn't thanks all the same.  I have had enough prodding and poking for this week so I think I will save that delight for next week, together with the Eye Test also scheduled!

Now I fully realise that in the absence of any NHS over here, everything medical related is effectively 'private' and if you were to be seen privately in the UK you would have much less of a wait than under the overloaded NHS, and comprehensive health insurance over here is ridiculously expensive, but that said, my experience so far has been very positive.  What's more, as all of the above is categorised under 'Preventative Care' I have not had to pay a penny (or I guess that should be cent?) -  Bonus!  Let's hope it all works this well when we actually require medical attention ...

Now I just need to start researching Doctors for Mr B ...eugh ... although I have a feeling that will be the easy bit.  The hard bit will be getting him to actually go ...!

Sizzling Scottsdale ....!

So, things have certainly been hotting up this week here in Phoenix.  In fact, so much so that a 'severe heat advisory warning' (talk about stating the bleedin' obvious) has been in effect since last Monday and is not expected to be lifted until Tuesday evening .  Temperatures have soared to over 110 deg Fahrenheit every day, and most days have been up to 115! (that's 46 C for the rest of the modern world ... in fact, why are we still on old money here? Anybody?).  It doesn't look like there will be much respite next week either ...

To be honest, it hasn't been as bad as I was expecting.  As long as you can run from air conditioning to air conditioning, it's do-able. The problem comes when you have to run errands and are driving short distances in between so the car doesn't get a chance to cool down.  Finding a parking spot in the shade becomes a top priority (known as parking lot poker), even if that means walking a lot further.  Other tips I have been given include carrying a towel to put over your seat (so you don't burn your legs) and carrying gloves to open the car door (so you don't burn your fingers).  Really? I thought.  Surely not.  Well, I can tell you that after having suffered both of those this week, I think I will definitely be heeding those warnings from now on!  Other points to note: never leave cans of soda for long periods in a hot car - they explode.  Don't leave bottles of water in hot cars - they boil.  Don't leave sunglasses on the dashboard - they melt.  

 I have also learnt that every trip requires careful planning in this extreme heat.  For example, on Monday Ethan had an orthodontist appointment for X-rays and modelling of his jaw and teeth.  It was an hour's appointment (that turned into an hour and a half ... oh yes, and $360), after which we had about an hour and a half  to kill before a guitar lesson at a local Music Academy about 30 minutes away.  Perfect.  Just enough time to go and get something to eat inbetween and then on to the lesson.  Oh but wait.  That means the guitar would have to be left in a boiling hot car for close to 3 hours ... hmmm, definitely not a good idea.  

So .... outcome: 

1. Drive 15 minutes to dentist. 

2. Get into red hot car 1.5 hrs later burning leg on seat. 

3. Shout obscenities and drive back home again sweating like pig until car cools down (just as pulling into drive).  

4. Kill an hour.  

5. Collect guitar, get back into car and drive to music lesson.  

6. Discover no shady parking spots so have to leave in blazing sun.  

7. Ethan opens guitar case and gets out guitar. String broken so can't play it and has to borrow guitar bearing no resemblance to his own.   

8. Return to car 30 minutes later, burning hand whilst opening car door.  

9. Repeat obscenities.  

10. Drive back home. 

Fast forward to Wednesday.  Ethan has to go into school to sit a Maths assessment so that they work out which stream he needs to go into.  Conveniently, I managed to find a guitar repair centre 5 minutes from the school.  Great. We could drop in there afterwards and get it restrung.  Oh.  But that would mean leaving the guitar in a hot car again.  Grrrr!  .... Repeat 1 - 10 above.

While all this was going on, Mr B meanwhile had been away in Florida & Georgia (I know, tough right? **rolls eyes**) on another work trip and was due back early evening on Thursday.  Unfortunately the weather was also brewing up trouble of a different kind for him too though and his return flight was unable to take off due to massive thunderstorms over Atlanta.  After a 6 hour delay (during which time he had befriended an elderly couple from Santa Barbara and helped them plan a trip to London & Paris, and a ASU graduate working for Ernst & Young who went away with a full development plan) he finally made it back at 1.30am!

As I finish this it is close to 10pm and still 107 degrees outside!  Still ... 

.......... at least it's a dry heat :D