3 Strikes

I'm OUT

Strike One:

I go to the bank with a deposit, wanting $100 cash back. The teller looks at me, looks at the check, looks at me again. "Do you have ID?" Note, I have banked at this bank for 30 some years. They never ask for my ID. I produce the ID. He looks at the ID, looks at me, looks at the ID again. Never mind that I have at least six times as much money in the bank as this deposit. He goes and gets his supervisor. She looks at the check, looks at me, looks at the ID, looks at me and at last mutters, "it's ok."

Strike Two:

I go to the drug store to pick up a prescription that I called the doctor about on Monday. Did they have it? Of course not. "You'll have to call the doctor," the clerk says. I ask if she would mind calling him. "It's not our policy," she says.

So I go home and call the doctor. "The pharmacy needs to fax the request," the receptionist tells me. I try to explain to her what the pharmacy told me. "Sorry, that's our policy" she says. "Have them fax it to us."

I politely explain that it is the policy of the pharmacy that the doctors office call them. I explain that I called them on Monday, that it has been five days, they did have my phone number, and on Monday I was assured that they would call me if there was a problem. Finally the receptionist relents and agrees to call the pharmacy. "Will that be today?" I ask. Silly question.

Strike Three:

The sun was out. I was working. Sitting here at kitchen table doing quarterly bookkeeping. Dreaming about being outside. Finishing up work. Thunder - lightning - wind - torrential rain. Uplugging and running on batteries. Better sign off before computer gets zapped.

The Critic Has Spoken

I don't have writer's block. I've been writing. But I've also been deleting. It seems to be one of those times when I make the effort, I get the words down on the screen, and my inner critic kicks in, "delete. delete. delete." So here it is, the first lines only... the inner critic has spoken

Never take a two year old hiking farther than you are capable of carrying him back... are you stupid or what?

I couldn't get out of bed Sunday morning because... who cares?

The new pope zings rats?... don't go there

I went to see Guantanomo Saturday night... too sad, too political, skip this one, there's not enough Kleenex

We are having a denial party so I just had to buy that pink hat with the extra wide brim... enough with the red hat tales

That uncomfortable feeling, the same uncomfortable feeling I felt 29 years ago when I took my son to a certain local nursery school, resurfaced when I took his son there for the open house this weekend... just don't go there

My youngest son turned 30, half the age of my husband... enough whining

Remember when April used to have Secretary's Day? Now it is Office Administrator Day... get with the times lady

We have a new parking attendant in front of our local drug store... be nice to him and write the story later

If my son's wife has a baby but it's not his and they are getting a divorce, does that make me a grandma again?... whoa, this is way too complicated

I should be knitting... good idea

Sometimes You Just Don't Know

I was out walking today, enjoying the bright high noon sunshine with a good friend. She had to make a stop and suggested we meet in front of a certain store. I told her, "fine but if that guy with the ************ is sitting on the bench in front of the store, I'll go inside and wait for you. I can't stand him."

You know how once in a while there comes along a person that makes you feel uncomfortable? Someone who makes you cross the street just so you don't have to be near them? Someone that perhaps you are not sure why you don't like them but there's just something about them that bugs you? Maybe it's his voice, his eyes, or just the way he moves or dresses. Maybe it's his job. Well, I'm not sure why but there was something about this guy that just bothered me.

Anyway, he wasn't there today so I waited by the door.

A few minutes later my friend comes out the other door. She waves, "come here there's something I need to show you." Next to the other door, where that guy always sat, was a memorial, a pile of flowers, his photo and some carefully placed mementos. He died last Friday.

Now I'm feeling bad. Really bad. A lot of people liked him... a lot.

Happy Birthday to Me

How I spent my weekend: Red Hatting of course. What better way to spend your birthday and why not spread it over 2 days??? I just had the greatest birthday. One of those birthdays that makes you feel like a kid all over again (and I didn't think you had those in the second half of your life). Don't think I'll want ice cream for a while now. Maybe not pizza or high tea either. I have the bestest friends ever!!!!!!

Gosh, I gotta do the grandma thing again. I think Daddy kind of likes his little one.

Bonk Bonk Nudge Nudge

Bonk... huh? I open one eye and look at the clock...5:30am... bonk bonk...nudge nudge. Open other eye. Little J standing next to bed with Cat in the Hat book. "Read Gramma," he says.

"Take the book to Grandpa," I slur. Close my eyes. Listen to patter of little pajama'd feet.

"Read Grampa."

Groan. "Go see Gramma."

Little feet return. Big feet follow. Both on bed now. No use pretending to be asleep. "Grandpa will read Cat in the Hat to you, JJ." Grandpa reaches for his glasses.

And so the day begins... an hour early for me... or would that be 2 hours considering daylight savings time? It's gonna be a long day.

At Knits End

Now why didn't I think of this???