The first day of 2006 sees the official implementation of the new Medicare Part D prescription drug benefit. The Minnesota Department of Human Services (where I work) has spent the last several months helping so-called dual eligibles–people who are eligible for Medicaid and Medicare–to prepare for the transition. For these dual eligibles. today marks the end of their Medicaid drug coverage. Hopefully, most of these people have selected an appropriate Part D drug plan, but I’ve heard some troubling stories about the inherent confusion in selecting a drug plan, not to mention the fact that some drugs don’t appear to be covered in any of the plans’ formularies. I want this benefit to work for people, but I have a feeling the next few months are going to bring some Sunday-supplement stories about the shortcomings of the new benefit, along with a lawsuit or two.

My van has given me over six years of reliable service. It’s never gotten me into an accident. It’s never failed to start, even on days so improbably cold that it seemed like the very air would freeze solid in your lungs. It gets decent mileage and it’s much easier to drive than my old VW Vanagon. So I shouldn’t complain that I had to spend almost a thousand dollars on various maintenance repairs for the van earlier this week. It needed new tires, a new serpentine belt, and a bunch of work on the front brakes. Having to spend that much does sting a bit, but I should consider myself fortunate that this is the first time I’ve had to do any major repairs on this vehicle.
I recognize that I’m a little spoiled because so many people with disabilities have to rely on paratransit service to get from place to place. And while we have a fairly decent paratransit service here, I wouldn’t want to rely on it exclusively for my transportation needs. It’s nearly impossible to be spontaneous when you’re dependent on such a service. You can’t just decide to go to a friend’s house. Rides aren’t always available when you want them and even if you can somehow score a ride on short notice, there’s no guarantee it will arrive on time. I don’t mind shelling out some cash once in a while to preserve a little more independence for myself.
But this morning, the engine was not its usual purring self. It sounded more like a lawnmower. I wonder if the muffler is giving up the ghost.
*sigh*
And so it goes.

If you have any interest in Roth’s The Plot against America and you haven’t read the book yet, you might want to skip this entry.
I mentioned I had a couple problems with Roth’s latest novel. The first is relatively minor. The ending was too abrupt, in contrast to the slow buildup of tension that the author had meticulously crafted in the previous few hundred pages. But that might just be a stylistic quibble. I tend to prefer longer denouements in the novels I read.
The second problem is more substantive. Roth postulates an alternate 1940 in which Charles Lindbergh defeats FDR in the presidential election. Lindbergh keeps America out of the war until 1942, when he mysteriously disappears and FDR is returned to the White House in an emergency election. After that, history seems to revert to the existing timeline, with the war ending in 1945 and the Allies emerging victorious. To me, this seems like a much too tidy resolution. Once such a drastic departure from established history is imagined, I don’t think it’s accurate or intellectually honest to portray it as some sort of temporal detour that ultimately had no lasting consequences on the course of human affairs. On the contrary, America’s delayed entry into the war might have had tremendous bearing on the final outcome. Great Britain might have succumbed to an invasion or the Germans might have had sufficient time to overrun the Russians on the Eastern Front. The war still might have ended with a defeated Germany, but the shape of that world would not have been identical to our own.
Roth’s original premise is intriguing and his novel is well worth reading, but I wish he would have looked more closely at the ripples of the events he set in motion.

I can totally relate to Adrien Brody’s character in King Kong. It’s a familiar story; sensitive writer falls for a beautiful ingenue, but he has to compete with a brooding jock-type for her attention. The writer expresses his love for the ingenue by writing a play for her. The big lug expresses his love by killing T. Rexes and beating the shit out of other people. The ingenue knows the writer is a good guy, but she can’t help but feel a more primal attraction to the vocabulary-challenged dude with the big pecs and the anger-management issues.
Story of my life.
As I was writing this, I received an e-mail from a woman on Match.com. Here’s an excerpt:
I dream to create family and to care of my husband. I want, that me liked and also cared. I like tenderness and kindness in the person. Also I like the decent and fair person. I still young and I want to think of my family. I want to create healthy and strong family in a lot of good statuses for a life!
She then goes on to ask that I e-mail her at an address ending with a Russian domain name. I have to say, the prominent mention of “husband” is a little off-putting, but I’m willing to chalk that up to simple overeagerness. I looked at her profile and she’s looking for guys between 3’0″ and 8’0″, so I’m covered there. And as an attorney and civil servant, I’ve got “good statuses” written all over me. Plus, I really dig women with Slavic accents. I think I have a good feeling about this one. Now all I have to do is e-mail her back. It’s a little weird that she asked me to attach PDFs of my bank statements and pay stubs, but she’s probably been burned by other guys in the past and she’s just trying to be careful. And I’d better start checking on ticket prices to Moscow or St Petersburg or wherever because she’s probably going to want to introduce me to the family.
I knew this on-line dating thing would pay off sooner or later.

Sasha the Agoraphobic Dog arrived with my parents last night. It’s a bit sad to see how she’s aging. My parents bought her as a puppy when I was a senior in college. Now, her face is completely white and I can tell that her hips bother her when she stands up after lying down for an extended time. I’m glad for these times when I get to see her. I don’t have the time to care for a dog of my own, but it was nice to have her greet me at my door when I came home from running an errand last night.
From up here on The 19th Floor, I want to wish everyone the happiest of holidays, regardless of what you do or don’t celebrate. I hope that wherever you are, the food is good, the company is pleasant, and that it’s where you want to be.
I need to wrap some presents. I hate how the Scotch tape sticks to my tongue and how the gift wrap leaves little paper cuts inside my mouth. But I do it all out of love, baby.