Saturday, August 28, 2010

BLOG, ONE YEAR OLD

I can’t believe it. This is my BLOG anniversary. I should have champagne, a cake and balloons, to celebrate. HIP HIP HORRAY! I put up my first column here on Blogger... ONE year ago, today. I have written approximately once a week, without a vacation, or day off, ever since. So many nice people, I’ve connected with here. I love you all. I’m genuinely touched when you stop by to comment. I consider you all friends. Since I don’t do Facebook, this is my outlet. That and Twitter. Here's a link to my Twitter account. (http://twitter.com/taryterre1) Just so you know… I wasn’t a stranger to this blogging thing. Before this, I had my very own website where I spent quite a few years writing about politics. You see, I used to be a reporter and photographer for a small hometown paper. My job was to cover town council meetings. I had lots of opinions about local and national issues, I had to keep to myself. But having a website, after I got laid off, let me vent about them. Over the course of time, though… the political baggage was getting too heavy. And so was maintaining the site. Tired of my own rhetoric and that of the pundits, I left the past behind and began blogging about simple pleasures and problems. With only my family and a few friends reading, my new subject matter… I decided to expand my horizons. I dropped my website and joined Blogger. I have to admit... I was a J-Land lurker, and followed you all, over here. I’m happier now that I’m writing about the everyday things that happen to me. Far less stressful. Far more satisfying. I hope you’ll continue to join me, for whatever life throws my way. Just endless musing. A few laughs, a few tears and ALWAYS something to talk about.

Friday, August 20, 2010

PHARMACIST

Ownership of the local pharmacy has changed half a dozen times over the past decade or two. But, the pharmacist has remained constant. I have been going to him for twenty-five years. He knows me, and I know him. There is trust between us. I am free to ask whatever questions I want and he explains what I need to know . He’s the first to notice potentially dangerous interactions between prescribed medications, I’m taking and he’s not afraid to speak out about it. Thank goodness. I’m in good hands and I like it. But things they are a changing. My insurance company wants me to do things differently and apparently so does my doctor. Recently I went to get a prescription filled. It is for a medication I take on a regular basis. It turned into a real hassle. I didn’t notice, that my doctor changed the order on my prescription from thirty days to ninety days. He apparently did this, to save me time and money, but neglected to tell me. Unfortunately, my local drugstore will not dispense any pills for more than a month at a time. So I’m out the BULK supply. I’m fine with that. Thirty days of pills is too much medicine lying around my house, anyway. However, my insurance company thinks otherwise. According to them, if I purchased the prescription MAIL ORDER from an online place, I could rack up the savings, that way… plus get that ninety days worth, all at once. They’re really PUSHING the idea. I’m all for saving a little bit of money... but to do this prescription thing, online, is too cold and impersonal, for me. Buying drugs is not like buying books, clothes or electronics. You need more feedback. Online, I don’t know if I’d get it. I’ve waited for hours on Helplines, looking for answers. Would this be any better? And furthermore, I’d probably get a different person each time I called. Who’s to say, who I’d really be dealing with. Therefore, I want to keep things, the way they are. I want to continue going to my local pharmacy. Problem is… I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to. The insurance company is playing hardball. I was down to my last four pills and they REFUSED to pay for the refill. Because of that, the prescription couldn’t even be dispensed, to me, by my pharmacy until the end of the week, when that very last pill of the four, would be used. I couldn’t believe it? What if I had an emergency or needed to go out of town before then? I’d be without my medication. Their response… get it MAIL ORDER and you’ll have a bigger supply on hand. TOUCHE. We’ve reached a STALEMATE. They are determined to FORCE my hand about this. But until 'Push comes to Shove'... I’m REFUSING to budge. Just call me old-fashioned. A PERSONAL connection, in this case, is better than an ONLINE one, at least as far as I’m concerned.

Friday, August 13, 2010

THE VISITOR

The seemingly big, black and white spider pranced across the floor, like a horse in a harness race. It went from under my bed to the long dresser beside it. My hardwood floors usually don't showcase spiders... but I caught this one's performance out of the corner of my eye, for all of 10 seconds. It was a black spider with a distinctive white geometric pattern on it's back. A triangle with a line, perhaps? The thing glared like spotlights were on it, as it had pranced. I immediately turned on every light in the place, to FIND where it had went. Barefoot, I moved cautiously around. It made me feel a tad bit uneasy. I did NOT want to feel something go squish, under my feet. I was irritated it had interfered with my goodnight time. So what to do now? I knew I couldn't stay up all night, looking for it. But I also knew it would keep me up all night thinking about it... since it was nowhere to be found. I suspected it was very cleverly disguised watching me in amusement. After all how BIG am I and how small is it? I needed to chill. FURGETABOUTIT! But I just couldn't. The question then became... not where the spider was, but WHERE it would go, as I slept. A weary head eventually conceded defeat, when sleep beckoned. So I reluctantly turned off the lights and crawled into bed... worried I would encounter the spider, overnight, right there. Squirming, just a little... I fixated on that happening. Fifteen, twenty, thirty minutes went by. Forty-five, then sixty and I was dreaming. PEACE at LAST. In the morning, the spider never crossed my mind, as I bounded off the mattress and hit the ground running to get a start on my day. Truth be told, I forgot all about that scary creature until I met up with it, a couple days later. I accidentally found it... casually sitting on my countertop, by the sink, in my kitchen. I thought... that was quite a journey, the irritating spider had made... going from one end of the house to the other. Briefly impressed, I got my wits about me. I LOOKED at it and it LOOKED back at me. I hesitated to think, just for a moment... where it would go next, without human intervention. With nerves of steel... I swatted it with a paper towel, then disposed of the spider problem, once and for all. Could have been poisonous? You NEVER know.

Saturday, August 7, 2010

GONE MISSING

You know that phenomenon where you put a pair of socks in the washing machine and part of them end up missing. You look everywhere, but you can’t find the second sock, to make the pair complete again. This is exactly what is happening to our silverware. Particularly the teaspoons and forks. They go in the dishwasher, then get put in the drawer, when they’re clean, and just disappear. And before you ask, no they are not hiding in the bottom of the dishwasher. They’re gone, vanished to parts unknown. We’ve had these sets of flatware for years. I haven’t counted the forks… but I had over 24 spoons when this started and am now down to a measly 8. I kid you not. Needless to say, I’m upset by this turn of events. I ruled out the possibility of my husband being the thief. He’s not taking them and stashing them away somewhere. Obviously, I am not sabotaging my own kitchen. The cats as mischievous as they are, would need pretty big jaws to cart the spoons off. So where did all that silverware go? Here’s an educated guess. Our new house guest is the culprit. Five months ago, our adult daughter, who’s an unemployed microbiologist moved back home. Life here got interesting. I could write a book about the trials and tribulations. To start with, she uses pots and pans but won’t clean them. Then she takes her meals upstairs to her room. I have tried to persuade her not to. But she refuses to eat with us. As a result, she has resorted to acting like an adolescent, at age 34. Case in point… she recently held one of my antique glass FIRE KING bowls hostage for two weeks, refusing to bring it back downstairs, after she used it... knowing full well with my bad knees, I couldn’t go upstairs to retrieve it. She even went as far as to tell me to just buy a NEW one. The only way I got it back was by refusing to give her food. She was livid. How dare I? When recently asked about the missing spoons, she denied having them. Closer inspection of her room by my husband revealed nothing. Which makes this crime even worse. From what we can surmise, she threw them out in the trash, rather than bring ‘em downstairs to rinse off and put away. When she cleans up, up there, everything in sight just goes into a big green garbage bag and out it goes. I’m missing a few plates too. I can’t believe I raised her. Irresponsible doesn’t begin to describe it. And to tell you the truth I don’t know what to do with her. She’s broke, has no job, sits on the computer all day playing games. I sat her down and told her, Enough is Enough. As long as she lives with us, there would be rules she needed to abide by… starting with NO more meals or silverware, upstairs. Her response was to tell me she’d use plastic utensils and paper plates from now on… but of course, I’d have to buy them. UNBELIEVABLE. No remorse, whatsoever, for what's Gone Missing.
P.S. I went to use a Tupperware container today, and discovered, more than half of them are missing too.

Sunday, August 1, 2010

GESTURES

Music blares. A car pulls up beside you. Depending on the tune, you either love or hate the next two minutes waiting for the light to change. But do you show your disdain or pleasure? Come on, tell the truth. A nod, a finger, a fist, eye roll, blowing kisses, pouting, winking. How many of us, out there on the road... have experienced something that commands us to send a nonverbal SIGNAL to a fellow traveler. "Hey, listen to me. This is what I think about you, your driving skills, your car, your music, etc." We have all been there and done that, in our own discreet or non-discreet way, with or without the expletives. Years ago... at a stop sign, on a rural road, with plenty of room to maneuver... I pulled slightly forward in an intersection, in order to see around a telephone pole on my left. Believe it or not, an approaching motorist came so close to my car as he made his turn... I heard him spew venom directed at me, and saw the fire in his eyes. OUCH! It hurt. I broke into tears. What had I done to him? It was a wake up call. BEWARE of folks who are having a BAD day. I know I've had a few of them, myself. However, the angry shaking of that man's fist, vividly remains planted in my mind. As frightening as that incident was,  he didn't frighten me near as much, as encounters, on a local one-lane bridge. Usually when I navigate it, no one else is coming from the opposite direction. But when another car suddenly appears and tries to scrape past me... hand gestures and words are at the forefront of my thoughts, next to survival. Now... I’m the one who is mad. One lane, MEANS one lane. Fortunately my fears are quelled and an accident is avoided. Yet the bitterness felt, for the other driver remains. I could have been killed. For some reason... the NEGATIVE gestures directed our way, are the ones most talked about. But the POSITIVE ones... are often taken for granted. Why? We don’t  make a big deal… if someone lets you get in line, ahead of them, at the gas station. Or if a person gives you their parking space. Or if someone blinks their car lights at you, to let you know, yours aren’t on. Or, at a STOP SIGN, when the other driver gives you the go ahead, so you can go through first, even though... you both arrived there at the same time. The truth is... when these things happen... we all nod our head in thanks, or flash our lights to acknowledge the nicety. Why? Because it DOES matter. For that nanosecond, we've found an ally. So... do your good upon the earth, next time you’re out driving. Make your gesture a NICE one. It might make somebody's day, in an unexpected way. But BEWARE... you might hear or see, what they really think, like it or not.