I'VE GOT THE GROCERY SHOPPING BLUES

I hate to go to the grocery store, don't you? I'd rather go to the dentist every day than go to the grocery once a week. Both of these outings raise my blood pressure and lower my cash on hand. At least you can get insurance to help cover the cost of your dental expenses!

Before I make that dreaded trek to the grocery, I take careful inventory of our needs for the household. I visualize the layout of the store in my mind, then I write out my grocery list according to where each item is located within the store. I do this so I can quickly push that cart down those aisles, in sequence, acquiring my goods in the most timely manner possible, thus shortening the length of my torture.

Sounds like a great idea, doesn't it? It would work, too, if there weren't a few inevitable complications. The stores in which I shop must have at least a hundred or so shopping carts. The cart I choose will always be the one that's wheels decide to go in four opposing directions at the same time. Oh no; it doesn't start out that way. No! This occurs after I have too many items to carry in my arms, when I still have twenty-five more items to find, and when I'm a good half mile from where the shopping carts are kept. I have no choice but to slow down as I try to control the cart that wanders more than my mind, which is a lot!

Even if I luck out and get a cart with excellent alignment, there are always additional obstacles between that check-out counter and me. You know who I mean, don't you? Yes, those people who feel compelled to hold family reunions, PTA meetings, national conventions, whatever, in the middle of grocery store aisles. There must be much more suitable places for their gatherings than in these spaces that are roughly five feet wide. (Get out'ta my way!!!)

Eventually I survive the maze and make my way to the frozen foods section, my last stop before heading for home plate, the check-out counter. This is where things always get a little tricky for me. Because these are some of the heaviest and most expensive items, I often spend a little too much time trying to make wise selections. By the time I leave this area I have usually gone over my budget, smashed my bread, and my ice cream is beginning to melt.

At long last the end is in sight. I say "in sight" because there are usually several carts between the cash register and me. This wait gives me ample time to do a number of things. First, I try to figure out if I have enough money with me for my purchases. Once assured I'm not over my limit, I can settle back and relax a little. An avid people-watcher, I find this the perfect place to observe human nature. Check-out lines run the gambit from friendly smiles and tabloid readers, to grumblers, near child abusers, and all-out riot-evokers. As the line slowly moves along, I reshape my bread and wipe up the trail my melting ice cream is leaving behind.

Monday was a beautiful day where I live. After weeks of hot, humid, still days, we were rewarded by Mother Nature. The temperatures were in the upper seventies to low eighties with low humidity and pleasant breezes. By mid-afternoon I knew what I wanted to do. I called my husband at his workplace and asked, "How would you like to go for a nice evening sail?" "Would you go, too?" he asked. " Yes, I'd really love to," was my surprising answer. I haven't gone sailing much for the past couple of years because of the chronic pain I have from Fibromyalgia and arthritis.

Had I been bleeding profusely from a severed artery, he couldn't have arrived home any more quickly. I had filled our water bottles and changed into clothing that would protect my delicate skin from the sun. He had the outboard motor and other necessary gear shoved into the back of his SUV in record time, so I hurried to get into the vehicle. This is a major procedure for me because it sits much higher than my little car. After a few attempts I was finally seated, strapped into my safety belt and we were on our way to a nearby lake.

I really had forgotten how good it feels to glide across the water solely under the power of the wind against the sails. I had forgotten how much more fun it is than roaring up and down the lake in one of those huge, noisy, power boats whose motors have to drown out any meaningful conversations anyone on board them might try to attempt. And those jet skis? Really??? It doesn't look like a good time to me!
I can only imagine pounding across the water, motor blasting while one's rear is smashing onto the seat with every wave that it hits. Fun? I don't think so.

As the sun sank slowly in the west, we knew our evening sail must end soon. We had enjoyed not only the soothing motion of the boat on the lake, but we actually talked more than we have in ages. It was a rare moment in time for us. I honestly hated to see the sail end, and I told my husband so. I also told him that, like the sun, parts of me are fading fast. I am vainly aware of the fact that, while I was never a beauty, I have aged. His response was to take my hands in his and quote William Butler Yeats:

               "When you are old and gray and full of sleep and nodding by the fire,
               Take down this book and slowly read, and dream of that soft look your eyes had once
               and their shadows deep.
               How many loved your moments of glad grace and loved your beauty with love false or true?
               But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you, and loved the beauty of your changing face."

The last line was delivered with a cracking voice and tears of sincerity, and received in the same manner. It was such a romantic gesture, from such a romantic man; the man with whom I have shared the past thirty-nine years. It's true that it hasn't always been 'smooth sailing' for us; but, ah, when we're on a good 'run'....           

GRANDKIDS TRUMP SLEEP

Another late night. I couldn't fall asleep until 4 am. It seems that bronchitis has hit both my husband and me at the same time. Fortunately, he sleeps when he isn't feeling well. Unfortunately, I have a terrible time falling asleep when I fear that every breath may be my last. So, I gave myself a breathing treatment around 2 am. Then I waited for that 'hyper' feeling to subside. After an hour, I took my sleep-inducing meds, hooked myself up to my oxygen machine, and I slid into bed. Since I had no plans for the next day, I decided I'd sleep until noon, at the earliest. Drifting off took much longer than I had anticipated; the last time I looked at the alarm clock, it read 3:45.

Before going to bed, I had watched a segment of House Hunters in which a young Irish man had decided to move to Bulgaria to live with his girlfriend who was in college there. In the end, he not only was able to find a suitable lodging for the two of them, but he also opened his own Irish Pub. I love Irish people! I love their country, their spirit, their rugged good looks and their wonderful soft accents. I am noting this because it is the only possible explanation as to why I dreamt that I was Irish. True, there is a certain amount of Irish blood that runs through my veins. My maternal grandmother was often referred to as "very Irish looking", and I have often been told that I resemble my grandmother.  But, in me dream I was Maureen O'Hara in 'The Quiet Man'! I had a lovely little cottage with beautiful flower gardens surrounding it, a cow, some sheep, and of course, a herding dog. My hair was bright auburn and flowing freely around my face. I was so happy in Ireland!

Someone was playing music. It wasn't Irish music, either. It was annoyingly familiar, too. It was...my cell phone! I awaken and snatch it off my night stand. It is 10 am. "Hello." I sound neither Irish nor nice. My daughter is at the other end of the line. "Your grandchildren, all three of them, want to come visit their grandparents!" "When?" I am trying to pull myself up in the bed. "How about in forty minutes?" I am now fully awake. "You have Sam and Zoey, too?" "They stayed all night. They've been up for hours." I am excited to see the three of them together because that doesn't happen very often anymore. They are all busy with one activity or another. "OK, honey; see you then!"

I shake my husband until he grumbles at me to leave him alone. I tell him that the kids are coming over to see us.  Suddenly he is awake and out of bed! As I shower, he runs the sweeper to eliminate as much dog and cat hair as possible, on such short notice. I'm brushing my teeth when I hear The Unholy Trinity burst through the front door. "PawPaw!" "Hi Poppy!" they shout. "Where's Mom?" My daughter sounds exhausted. I walk into utter chaos. What a wonderful and heart-warming site! Unexpectedly, Sam is the first to approach me. He wraps his arms around me and shyly gives me a soft kiss. In four months he'll turn nine.  He is entering that stage where public displays of affection aren't cool. Well, I'll take them while the taking is good! "MawMaw!!" Quin flies into the room, and me, followed closely by Zoey. Hugs and kisses all around, then they're off again.

Lee is in the floor, on his hands and knees, playing the role of the bucking bronco. Then, when the bucking bronco runs out of steam, the party moves to the backyard. Our Yellow Lab is in heaven! She loves the little ones and they adore her. Frisbees, kids and the dog are flying around the yard! I watch them while I make three 'snack packs' for them to enjoy after they go home. Truly, my cup runneth over with love!

Wonder Woman...Not!

If one could accomplish her goals just by throwing her weight around, I would be a power to be reckoned with. I am a full-figured woman with an agenda, well numerous agendas actually. So when I set a goal, I expect to accomplish it, no matter what. If push comes to shove, I'll put all of my weight behind, or in front of me, and push or shove, for all I'm worth!

  

There are a multitude of projects around our house that I have asked my husband to complete. He calls it "nagging".  We women know, however, that it doesn't become "nagging" for 48 requests or 48 months, whichever comes first. So, when I calmly request, for maybe the tenth time, that he take out the trash, I am offended when he snaps, "Will you please stop nagging me?" At least he said please. "I don't think it's nagging when the trash is climbing out of the can," I point out. Besides, it hasn't even been a week, let alone 48 months.

So, empty the trash already, I'm thinking. I wait for him to put down the remote and pick up the trash can while I am doing the dishes. He doesn't move from his position on the couch where he is entranced by some 1950's movie about giant ants taking over the world. "What about the trash?" I  risk being yelled at again. No reply; he just turns up the volume on the television. I finish putting the dishes away, wipe off the counter tops and toss my paper towels in the general direction of the trash can. Two can play this game as well as one, my dear. I leave the kitchen and head down the hallway to the bedroom. Just before I close the door I hear a sound. It's coming from the kitchen. Oh my god, he is taking out the trash! I'm smiling as, I close the bedroom door behind me. Take that, giant ants!

A Day In the Life of a Professional Patient

I have a doctor's appointment. at 12:45 today. I arrived there at 12:45.  "Your appointment was changed to 3:00." "I can't be here at 3:00, because I'm having mammograms at that time at the hospital!!" OK. I reschedule the PCP appointment and head towards home. WHOA! I pull over and call the hospital to see if they can move my exam up. Can I be there by 1:30? "I will be there by 1:30; thank you!" My PCP's office phone is off from 12:30 until 1:30. I sign in at the hospital and sit down. It's 1:30. I call the PCP's number and they answer immediately. "Would you please put me back in at 3:00?                             


It's 2:00 and I'm heading back towards my PCP's office. So much time to kill... I drive through Wendy's and order a large lemonade. "$2.49???" I now have a bucket of lemonade and sticker shock! I haven't had anything to eat or drink today, it's 90 degrees outside and... sip, sip, sip. I drive to the PCP's office and sit in my car and down a third of the over-priced lemon water.


Suddenly people start arriving and entering the building. "Oh no you don't! I have the 3:00 slot and I'm here at 2:30, half an hour early!" I hurry into the office, sign in and take a seat. Suddenly it's 3:00 and I'm still in the waiting room. So much for arriving early. I'm reading People magazine at 3:20, and after all of that sipping, my bladder is about to explode! I visit the loo. Much better.                                 


Back in the waiting room patients come and patients go, but I'm still here. At 4:00 I go to the glass window and ask the receptionist if they have forgotten me. Deer in headlights look. "Um...you're next." I worked in health care all my adult life and I know what that means. I sit back down, sip my lemon-tinged water, and read another People magazine. Several minutes later I am escorted to Exam Room #2. As the nurse begins to tell me to leave my things in the room and come out to be..."I'm not in the mood to be weighed today!" OK. My blood pressure and pulse are surprisingly excellent, considering my frustration level. I sit there with another People magazine because "Doctor has one more patient before you." "Of course she does!" And Jennifer Aniston has a new boyfriend... yawn.
                                                                                      
Finally my PCP enters the room visibly exhausted, but apologetic and extending her hand. I have a paper full of thoughts and questions. Had I not had to wait for so long, I might have skipped a few of them. However, there is much to discuss, so we begin. She never cuts our time short, bless her heart.


At 5:15 I pour myself back into my steaming hot car and call my husband. He is just leaving his office. I surprise him at the exit door, and I whisk him away to a nearby Italian restaurant for a leisurely dinner and conversation. Afterwards, I drop him off at his SUV so he can go to the gym. I open up the sun roof, crank up Classic Vinyl on Sirius Satellite, resist the urge to slip my Juke into Turbo, and head home singing loudly and putting health care out of my mind, until tomorrow.