Shopping and Other Things

Feeling better means that I have to get out and run my own errands. He who has been my errand boy left early this morning on a job that will keep him from home until a lot later this evening. He is on the road and unavailable to go to the store. His prescriptions need to be filled. He only has one day left on one of them. I want to do some baking and I need supplies, mostly butter and flour.

So, I get ready to go out into the big wide world. Don't want to, mind you. The memory of my last panic attack still too fresh in my mind. But, I drink my coffee and convince myself that I can do this all by myself. Errand boy extraordinaire has my little bug all fueled and ready for me (remember, I do not do this, being delicate and all). Dreary skies follow me all the way.

I have been ensconced in my sewing room with my happy light ablaze (thanks to my daughter and son-in-law) every day for at least 5 hours. This dull gray light is a little disheartening. I spy the state troopers positioned all along the interstate and I keep my speed just two miles over the speed limit. I make it to WalMart and turn in the prescriptions with instructions on how many I want of each one, then prowl the store for bargains and my list of necessities. I arrive back at the pharmacy an hour later and join the others in the long, long line.

Finally I reach the front of the line and am excited to be nearly done and on my way home. Because there were so many waiting and I was anxious to get home, I did not open the bag and check each prescription like I normally do. I was started to get that little tingle at the nape of my neck and knew I had to be on my way.

I loaded the car and got in and started the engine, carefully waiting for the glow plug light to go out. It can be a little cantankerous in cold weather. The gear shift did not want to come out of "park". It has done this before. I turned off the engine and tried again. It worked. I wanted to pick up an iced tea to drink on the way home, so I pulled out of the back side of the parking lot in order to go through McD's drive-thru. Two big trucks were blocking access, so I pulled into the parking lot of my favorite consignment shop ...... who knows, maybe they had a bargain I could not live without.

I did not linger long in the shop, not finding anything I wanted to give a second glance to and went outside to see that the street I wanted was clear. I was ready to be home and the shop had been stuffy and hot. Got in the car and it stuck in "park" again. I tried all my trusty little tricks. I tried everything I could think of. No luck. So, I called he who cannot hear. He is in Illinois picking up a truck. He shouts instructions to me (why do people who can't hear you assume that you can't hear them?). He tells me to do everything I have already done and nothing is helping. If I turn the key part way I can get the gear shift to move ...... But, unless you are in "park" or "neutral" you cannot start the engine and when you start the engine it won't move to reverse or drive. I was almost in tears and the panic was coming full on. I was blubbering about my butter melting and how I just wanted to go home where my happy light waits for me.

I finally agreed to wait for a tow to come get me and my butter and drugs. I started stuffing everything into as few bags as possible to be able to unload quicker. Then I decided to pick up all the trash that had accumulated. I pulled the emergency brake and after cleaning up and releasing the brake I decided to try again. For whatever reason it started and went into gear and I was able to drive home. I cancelled the tow (in case you were wondering).

Made it home and only two dogs escaped as I brought in the bags. Fortunately, it was the male dogs and they have had too many swats from my fly swatter to disobey my command to get back inside. I opened the bag with the drugs. As anyone who watches TV knows, there is a list of drugs that WalMart will fill a 90 day supply of for only $10. Knowing this, why would you get a 30 day supply for $4? And yet, I always have to tell them. Always. One of the drugs he takes is $70 a month, so I only get a 30 day supply. I am always hoping it might go down in price, since it is already the generic. They got that one right. They got all of them right except the cheapest one. It comes in those hated prepacked blister pack things. There should have been 3, there was 1. I checked carefully and the amount was right there on the 1 package as 90. I pulled it opened and counted to make absolutely sure that the packaging had not changed, but there were just 30. It happens. I called and asked to speak with a pharmacist, since I know that this is the only person who can fix the error. I must have gotten a newbie. She listened carefully as I told her what had happened, then she told me to hold on.

She did not put the phone on hold and I could hear her as she asked how to access the information relating to the prescription in question. She wanted to know how to tell if I was lying ........ Then she pulled up the screen with the image of the RX the doctor had written. She then decided that I had only gotten 30 because it was written for 30. Having worked at WalMart before, I could have answered all of her questions and told her how to pull that information up. While it is true that the doctor had written #30 on the prescription with 5 refills, the customer can buy as few or as many covered in that prescription as long as it is not a controlled substance. And if I was going to try to rip WalMart off for some pills, let me just say that it would not have been the cheap ones, but the ones that cost $70 a month.

She finally came back to the phone and told me to bring "it" back and she would fix it. I had just driven 46 miles to get them and was loathe to hop into a car that had already sent me into a panic attack with gear issues and go back over what amounted to less than $10 worth of something. I simply told her that I was not willing to do that and she handed the phone to the other pharmacist who verified the name and RX# and my address. They are sending the other 60 to me.

A cup of tea, a happy light and a fire. I am feeling better.

Angels Watching Over Me

I am back ..... almost normal again. My recent vacation from sanity was enlightening. I chose not to blog, as I tended to be viciously honest. My meds have been adjusted and I am feeling much better. Thanks for all the e-mails of concern.

This is not my first experience with my disease. I am bi-polar. They have some very effective drugs for this condition nowadays. The stigma that used to be affiliated with mental defects no longer exists (does it?) and I am happy to embrace my defect. Well, maybe not happy .......... but resigned and grateful to recognize what is happening and be able to seek help.

I am not 100% yet, but I can cope now until my brain decides to play nice. My friends and family have rallied round me, and shielded me from the world while I recover. It has been nice to be cocooned here in my lair. I have mastered spider solitaire and spent many hours shopping on-line. I shop to my heart's content, then delete the entire thing. I have noticed that even in fantasy shopping, I still looked for bargains. I found that to be interesting. Nothing is quite so satisfying as a good deal.

So today as I was half listening to an infomercial hawking a handy dandy slicer I heard them say it had a handicapped container. Really, that couldn't be right ...... I turned my attention to the TV and sure enough there stood a woman slicing a 5 lb. bag of potatoes ............. blindfolded. Really. I hit the button on the remote and backed it up. Why would you want to prepare food with blindfold on? And yet there she was pumping that lever and feeding another potato onto the slicer. Is this why the word "handicapped" was used? Was she going to fill a pan with oil and fry those slices blindfolded?

I had heard correctly. They did say handicapped . But they were saying handy capped. Like I said handy dandy. This handy dandy container had a handy cap. Poor choice of wording, I suppose. I wonder if anyone else heard it the way I did? Maybe they should have used the word "lid" instead of "cap". I wonder if I could get a job editing commercials ............ I wonder if I am as well as I think I am? Good thing my angels are still watching over me.

I'm Not Crazy, I'm Just A Little Unwell ......

Gray skies fill the horizon. The sky is gray and drab, the clouds are gray and drab. A chill is in the air and I can't seem to get past this gray funk I am drowning in.
No lights grace the entrance to my home. There is no tree to adorn. I feel gray inside. All I want to do is sleep. Don't want to eat, don't even want to shop ..............
Wait, did I say that out loud. No, you say, it cannot be. A woman who does not long to shop and fill her home with wonderful values.
I lolled the day away in my sloppy sweats yesterday. I reheated the same cup of coffee twice and sat, hunched over the keyboard, clicking my childhood away. Did not even shower or wash my hair. By the end of the day, it was standing on end.
So, this morning, with grave determination, I arose, drank my single serving of coffee and showered, dressed and even put on make-up. Unlike the people of WalMart, I try hard not to frighten small children when I am out and about.
I forced myself out the door and started my trusty mode of transportation. I heard a rumor. The Walmart in Mexico (the city, not the country) still had a fabric department. Will wonders never cease? Just what the doctor ordered. If chemical therapy fails me, surely the touch, the feel of fabric will suffice. I hold that thought of self medication as I navigate the almost 40 miles to get my fix.
I march smartly past the greeter and grace him with a beautific smile. I am humming "Anticipation" as I meander slowly towards my habit. First I make myself go down the pet aisle. I grab a pink ball for Oscar, soft treats for Emmy and Beggin strips for the younger ones. This WalMart has a bigger selection and I am drawn to the remedies. I spy a treatment that will prevent the eating of poop. Really, I am not kidding. Emmy has been known to treat herself to already digested dog food. Nasty little habit and for $3, I can prevent this. Amazing. Whatever, I will give it a whirl.
Feeling smug and satisfied, I push my cart along. I made use of the handy-dandy disinfectant wipes at the door, so I also feel healthy. Well, maybe that is pushing it.
I stop in linens. Just looking to see if they have decent sheets with a high thread count and deep pockets. They do, actually. But I am loathe to part with $75 for sheets when I need a fabric fix. Instead I compromise and score a set of sheet garters. The elastic is losing it's grip and the fitted sheet won't stay taut. I hate wrinkly sheets. The garters should do the trick.
I am getting close. I can smell the fabric! I push my clean handled cart along as I run my hands over cottons and blends and polyesters and I am in my happy place. Then I see it! The clearance section. I suck in my breath and dive in. I got some nice twill for jumpers and corduroy, too. ALL ON SALE. Full price, even a decent price does not make me happy, it must be dirt cheap to make me feel noble. And may I just say, that I am very noble.
I get the pieces cut and head off to get the necessities of a Thanksgiving feast for two. Celery and chicken stock. Because the store is unfamiliar I am forced to go up and down each and every aisle. My fabric elation is wearing off. I am finding things I forgot I needed and it isn't too crowded. I should feel fine. I should.
But, there it is, tickling my spine and waiting to attack. I have not had a full panic attack in years. But I know what is about to happen if I don't get out of this place. If not for the precious bundle of cut fabric nestled in that cart, I would simply have walked away and driven home. I made it to the check out lane and the closeness of the merchandise stacked on either side of me saved me. The calm descended and I was able to pay and get out. The cold wind in my face was refreshing and I made it home just fine.
It has occurred to me that maybe my dosage needs to be adjusted.

Mulching, Creep-Master and Biting

My computer has been finicky of late. So have I. As the temperature is dropping, I have been taking advantage of those sunny afternoons to work in my gardens. I am hoping that this will make the spring clean-up a little easier. Hoping.

Since the marigolds have turned brown, I decided to collect more seed. At this point I have enough seed to start my own business, yet I still feel the need to pinch the heads off as I pull the plants. They need to be free of seed to go into the compost bin. No matter how diligently I pinch those dead heads off, I always end up with some volunteer plants in the compost. So, I got to thinking and decided that I should run the dead bushes through the mulcher and mulch the beds that I want marigold in. Some times I really impress myself with my own ingenuity!

The hunters have been out in force. I don't hunt. I don't understand the "sport". Stalking and killing an animal would not be thrilling or fun for me. My opinion, that's all. I do not condemn those who enjoy the sport. I stay inside when they are staying here in the kampground. Not because they have guns blazing. I just enjoy my solitude while I work in my gardens and don't really want to explain what I am doing. I tend to get advice from those who are wont to track down deer. Advice like, "why bother with all that, why not just pour gravel and make the parking lot bigger?" I don't tell you how to hunt .......

But, the number one main reason I make myself scarce is the hunter with the holistic medical advice. I have dubbed him the creep-master. He makes me uncomfortable and I keep the store locked whenever he is in residence. Last time he came in to pay I actually carried my meanest dog into the store with me. My dogs always growl and bark at the creep-master. He actually asked why I would want Oscar (mean dachshund), since all he seemed to do is make noise. "He does more than that." I say, "He will bite you if you get close enough." That did not deter him, though. He lingered in the store and asked after my health (fine) and then wanted to know if my husband was around. I answered with a question, asking if he needed a propane tank filled. I was loathe to admit that I was all alone here, save a pack of miniature dogs that were barking their heads off at the intruder. Oscar had that deep growl going the entire time he was in the store. I have found Oscar to be a good judge of character .... and he bites.

So here I sit, sipping my morning brew, happy to see no hunters here, the sun shining brightly in the sky ........ let the mulching begin.

What Else Can Go Wrong?

It has been a quiet weekend here at the kamp. Hunters were out. I wonder if they are here to hunt or to sit around drinking and telling lies about past conquests. Doesn't really matter to me.

Well, it does matter when they use the men's room trashcan as a spittoon to accommodate their chew habits. The splatter ends up on the wall beside the trashcan. Then when they insist on having me let them in the store at 7:55 am to pay me for the weekend. Before I have enough coffee in my system. It just starts the day off wrong.

But, they paid and left and the day is balmy, if a little on the windy side and I get my coffee ........ Then the stomach-ache hits me. I always pronounce it the way Ray Romano did on that episode of "Everybody Loves Raymond". He sounded it out and proclaimed the word to be "sto-ma-cha-chee". I knew I needed to eat something, but nothing sounds good; well, nothing that I have here in my house. I ponder what is available to stuff in my gullet and come up blank. I finally decide that pancakes sound okay. I have mix in the cupboard. 

I drag out the electric skillet and pour the mix and the water in the bowl. As I stir it with the wisk, I sling it onto my shirt. Grace, that's me. So I grab the dish towel to wipe the shirt and drop it in the dishwater. I am determined, though. I clean myself up and wring out the towel and put it in the laundry. Then as the skillet is heating up, I bump into the bowl and knock it over, losing about 1/3 of the batter on the counter. Still determined, I pour the batter on the skillet and then clean that mess up. 

Spatula in hand I watch the tiny bubbles pop and prepare to flip the cakes. Plastic spatula for the non-stick surface. Yeah, they stuck. Like I super-glued them. With a lot of effort I manage to get them up and turn the mangled globs of batter over. So much for light, fluffy pancakes. I drizzled Aunt Jemima's best atop the mess and managed to eat around the chewier parts. The dogs enjoyed them immensely. I am thinking about just going back to bed.

Health Advice ......

I love unsolicited advice. I was outside gathering seed from my zinnia, cosmos and marigolds to store until next spring. I saw them drive up and I went into the store. This couple stays here during the hunting season and are ....... odd? The man makes me a tad bit uncomfortable. He is not very nice to his wife when I have seen them interact. One time he got a cup of coffee for her, but when she tried to put cream and sugar in it he was impatient and told her to hurry up, then sat in the truck blowing his horn until she ran out the door. Really rude man.

Today he came in to pay for the evening and gestured to the ziploc bag in my hand. He asked what I was doing ..... I thought it was obvious, but replied that I was gathering seed. He looked at me like I was lying and asked to smell it. It was a gallon bag of cosmos seed. He looked a little disappointed when he took a whiff and commented that it looked like something I would be selling on the street.

I don't know if this was an opening for him to tell me that I needed to look into holistic medicines. He advised me to go to a particular website and order a wonder drug (?) that would change my life. He said that it had changed his life. He has more energy, has lost weight, and his sex life is great. I listened politely as he relayed all this to me and wished he would leave. His wife was waiting in the car and not blowing the horn impatiently. He was intent on spouting the sales propaganda about the product and telling me that the medical community did not want the public to know about this, since it would put them out of business and repeated the web address as he left.

Because I am the curious sort, I looked up his supplement. It consists of vitamin A, aloe vera and fiber. I wonder which ingredient gave him his surly attitude? He did not look all that fit to me with his pot belly and chronic cough. I won't be ordering this magic elixir.

Black Eyes, Insomnia and Pumpkins

 I have a shiner!! It has nothing to do with my insomnia. The insomnia is the fault of he who likes to build fires. It rained yesterday and there was a damp chill in the air. I was feeling much better than I have all week and I gave the man permission to build the first fire of the season in the wood stove.

I gave him instructions. A small fire. Just to take the chill out of the air. No raging infernos that he is so fond of. He likes to get a raging fire going and then leave the house. I am beginning to think he wants me to sweat. He was gone most of the day and I let the fire dwindle as I worked around the house. When he came in for supper he brought with him a load of firewood. He got the embers going and I warned him, once again, not to add too many logs before bedtime.

Might as well have been talking to myself. Went to bed and could not get comfortable. My bare feet out of the covers were too cold, but under the covers, I was sweating. I got up at midnight with some restless dogs. There is a thermometer next to the drafty back door. 70 degrees there at the door. Wonder what it is in the room with the wood stove ....... 77. It was a couple of degrees cooler in our bedroom. I tell you, had it been 75 degrees and summer, he would have wanted the air conditioner on. The man is trying to drive me insane!! I did not go back to bed until 1:30.

 Back to my black eye. The puppy called Toni, with the freakishly long legs is a sweet girl. She is a little strange in appearance and in behavior, too. She likes to sniff my eyes. Every night while we are sitting in front of the TV at the end of the day, she will insinuate herself into my lap ...... no, that's wrong. She likes to sit on my chest, effectively blocking my view of the TV or my laptop. She wants my full attention. She wants me to hold her face in my hands and talk to her. While I am talking she investigates my face with her nose, paying undue attention to my eyes. She doesn't go nuts licking my face, she just sniffs. If my glasses are on, she will gently nose her way under them. It is very strange and it tickles.

Last night, as she was trying to assume her seat upon my chest she lost her balance and her paw ended up under my glasses in my eye while the rest of her legs and body fell onto my face. I did mention those legs that are freakishly long, didn't I?

I meant to take a photo of the mangled glasses before they went for repair, but forgot. These were my new glasses. The glasses I got after my eye exam and new prescription. The glasses from my favorite eyeglass store and my favorite camper/optician Barb at HERE'S 2 EYES in Troy, Mo. Thank goodness I had the foresight to get two pair!! Two pair I got for what most places would have charged me for one pair! Not only that, but personal, friendly service. My glasses are no doubt already in Barb's hands. Barb's magic hands, I should say. He who has a second job had to go right through Troy and dropped my glasses off. If anyone can salvage them, Barb can! The lens are okay, the frame may have to be replaced.

The puppy called Toni not only has freakishly long legs and an eye fetish .... she is a clumsy, too. And that is how I came to have a shiner. I actually didn't see it until I washed my face. It doesn't hurt. I wonder if I could get some mileage out of this injury. Maybe dinner out and a nice foot rub?

 The sun is shining again and I ventured out to check on my turnips. This is the only pumpkin to survive and I didn't even plant it .... it was a volunteer from the pumpkin I tossed in the compost bin last year. Is this the tiniest one you have ever seen?

Too small to carve ...........