Taxes, MRI and “Triplets of Belleville”

Today is International Women’s Day. I’m not sure that means much to anyone reading this. I’m not sure how much it means to me at the moment, though I suspect it should be a little higher on my radar than it is this year. A quick Google shows that Canada and England definitely have IWD on a higher profile than we do in the US. It is not a good thing that I let myself get so wrapped up in me-me-me that I forget there’s a whole world bigger hurts out there.

The weekend turned out to be a lovely little interlude between last week’s woes and these. The Socialist drove me down to the Alma Mater to deliver some samples I needed analyzed for work. It gave me an opportunity to introduce him to the professor who’s been so good to me since graduation, and gave us both a chance for a ride in the country on one of the first really spring-like days. I saw crocuses blooming, and tulips and daffodils are definitely on their way as well. I’m beginning to angst over my little patch of garden. I still have about two feet by three feet of dirt to play with. I think I’ll do what I did last year, and cover the area with primroses. I just wish I didn’t have to wait another month to put them in.

I also want to get a *real* weather station to put up in the enclosed patio area. The Socialist has an absolute obsession about the weather in these parts, and I wouldn’t mind being able to get a reliable temperature from outside my own door, instead of depending on Big City Radio’s estimate of what my temperature should be. This is going to be dependent on my tax refund for this year, but so far things look good.

I did take my stuff to H&R Blockheads again this year, but I had to leave all the dividend stuff there for them to figure out later. They were also totally confused by my disability payments, which I have to attach W2-P’s to my return forms for but which are not declared as income. My consultant first tried to tell me that they were taxable by the feds and that I had to get new W2-P’s printed out reflecting this. After a few minutes of back-and-forthing with her supervisor though, they did discover that the disability income was non-taxable. The time lost on that though ate into my hour, and we agreed to let me leave my stuff there over the weekend and she’d finish up my taxes and get back to me in a day or so. A day or so has elapsed, and she’s not gotten back to me, so I suppose I’ll have to pop over there after work to see what’s up.

This morning’s MRI went smoothly enough. I’ve been through enough of those, what with the heart and the liver things, as well as some migraine problems from days gone by, that the novelty has worn off completely. I won’t have results until Thursday, which is a bit of a pain, since I’m away at a conference Thursday and Friday of this week. Still, I should be able to find a way to call from the seminar over lunch or something to see what my results are. Physical therapy after the MRI also went smoothly, and I once again left feeling pretty good. The arm is bothering me again now, though, and I’ll be glad enough to call it a day in a few hours.

The non-Kitten has been very attentive to me this past week or so. She sticks like a burr once I go to bed, and I’ve woken on more than one occasion to find her nestled in next to me, under my arm, like some over-loved stuffed animal. She’ll also crawl on top of my and put a paw on my cheek or nose. This is definitely not her usual style, and I elected to see it as her way of trying to make me feel better.

The Socialist and I went to see the animation film that lost its Oscar to “Finding Nemo” in this year’s award ceremonies. I guess I can understand why the little fish with the bad fin won out in the end, but I’m still glad we went to see the “Triplets of Belleville” last night at the local arts theater. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but then again I’m not sure if anyone could expect this picture.

It was absolutely brilliant, and absolutely weirdly twisted. It wasn’t yet another Japanese anime “let’s make two weird fantasy animals fight it out to see who’s the better weird-beast-master”. There was no “cute” moments of fish or child with oversized eyes mugging for the camera (although the hound dog Bruno did his best, an overweight and arthritic dog just doesn’t come through the same way). And the music was definitely nothing Disney would approve of.

I loved Triplets in spite of and because of all this, though I’m just a bit embarrassed to be admitting it in public. The music was retro-wonderful, the pointed French jabs at the American way of bigger-is-bettter was wonderful, the plot was off-the-wall, and I loved the scenes of hunting frogs with hand grenades. I can only hope that this movie signals a future trend towards novelty in animation.