I Like Intelligent Conversation

Scott Rodriguez is suing Scott Chemicals.

Scott fired Scott because during his employemnt drug testing, he tested positive for nicotine. Turns out that Scott has a policy that they will no longer hire/employ smokers because the costs are too high for the health insurance. And this is perfectly legal in Ohio, where Scott is headquartered.

So, I'm listening to the story on NPR this weekend and my first gut reaction is that this is a frivolous lawsuit. Scott legally set the policy not to hire smokers. Scott R. knew this and applied anyway.

But then, listening to Scott R's lawyer, I thought better about my reaction. Maybe it is a slippery slope -- if a company can fire you because you smoke, what about if you have a genetic defect or all the men in your family died early of heart disease? Smacks of Gattica.

The problem, of course, is that companies are the ones responsible for the vast majority of American's health insurance.

I've had insurance and I've been uninsured. And the former is definitely preferable. But I'm also 1) friends with the woman responsible for benefits at my company and 2) work in an industry where we closely examine the costs and profits of health insurance. I know precisely how much it costs for companies to offer these benefits and how knowing and/or avoiding those risks can affect premiums, deductibles, settlements.

And so there's this part of me that thinks, sure, employers have every right to mitigate their risks. And then there's part of me that went through Democracy School and thinks that creating an even more uneven playing field -- for corporations (or the insurance industry) v. the little guy -- is really a bad idea.

So, I'm not exactly sure what the solution is. But I don't think it's clearcut or simple.

And, in lookng into this, I found a very interesting blog. I don't agree with the majority of posts on the site. But what I really like is that the comments, both in support of and against the original posting, were intelligent, articulate and - get this! - courteous. No flame wars here. So, without further ado: Reason Hit and Run.

May intelligent discourse commence.

Sleepy

Mr. Zips is very tired. This is not surprising. I mean, the boy has been burning the candle at both ends for about six weeks now, working basically 70 hours/week. With nary a day off in between. And I remember when I was working those kinds of hours. You get so tired you get dumb.

It's making me feel really sad and really helpless. Because I see it in his face and can hear it in his voice when he talks. But what am I gonna do? You can't sleep for someone else.

Of course, the obnoxious holier than thou part of me wants to point out that perhaps, on Saturday night, instead of going to his buddy's house, he could have stayed home and gotten some R&R, like I did. (OK, well, I took heavy drugs, but I've got to get back on my feet before this durned tradeshow. So I was massively doped up, but all for the theoretical greater good. But I digress.) Or, perhaps, last night instead of insisting that we stay up to watch Tenacious D in the Pick of Destiny (NSFW!) (which, by the way, no matter what the critics say, is hilarious) he could have gone to bed early, when I suggested it.

But none of that really matters now. What matters is that he's so tired and my heart breaks seeing him like this. Because I know the pain and I know how it feels to be so at the end of your rope and you can barely function. And, as a woman, I could get a way with breaking down and crying, but what can he do?

I can only hope that while I'm gone and he's holding down the fort he can actually get some rest.

Opening a Window

I am sad. My Sunday morning routine has been messed with. Normally on a Sunday, I wake up, turn on NPR, eat breakfast and generally putz around, then it's off to yoga. Sunday is a bona fide Anusara class. Not that my other weekly class isn't enjoyable, it's just not the same.

But this Sunday, I sit here, basking in the wonderful sun, knowing that it's not off to yoga I go. Yesterday's marathon mall walking really did me in and my foot is about three sizes too big. It woke me up constantly through the night. Heck, last nite I even broke down and took one of the "crazy pills" to keep the pounding at bay.

So, elevated, iced, and wrapped, it's up on a chair. No yoga for me.

I'm trying to see this as a chance to balance my checkbook, work on my latest story, finish the trashy novel I'm reading, or whatever. But I'm still kind of sad.

I wonder if, being on my feet for so many hours this week at the tradeshow means I can take some workers' comp time.... Hey, we're in the insurance biz, right?

Total Eclipse of the Crust

Tonite is a full moon. Historically, it is the Worm Moon - because the advent of spring whispers to the earthworms that it is time to start burrowing skyward. But it is also known as the Crust Moon, referring to the sheen of ice covering the world when the snow that has melted in the bright daylight sun freezes over during the colder nights.

I like the latter name better because it helps me believe that I am not the only one who has difficulty remaining upright on paved surfaces in March.

Tonite is also a total lunar eclipse. And while this has no scientific significance, I can't help but think that it has metaphysical and spiritual significance. Although I'm not sure what that would be...

I went for a walk to try and catch the actual eclipse, but it was too cloudy and the moon was hidden. I think I saw a crimson tinge to the clouds where the moon should have been, but that could be my overactive imagination. Still, it was nice to be out, walking around, under the stars and sky, contemplating the night.

And hopefully, no one saw when I fell down on a slick patch. Twice.

Observations

Recent observations:

Men should not wear spandex. Even while running. Really big men should really not wear spandex. Especially while running.

The size of the sandwich they make you at the Au Bon Pain will be in indirect proportion to how hungry you are.

On the days you are running late for work, your cat will find and eat the one rubber band you have not diligently thrown away, guaranteeing that you will spend at least ten minutes cleaning upchuck kitty.

And of course, the one time you want to sneak out past Napolean's radar screen is the one day he take the five o'clock flight instead of the four. Of course, if you happen to be dressed up that day, he'll think you're going on a job interview and maybe he'll give you a better raise...