Anniversaries

 Dorothy and Gus 9/26/64         and     Rosemary  and Joe 9/24/66    

A Day in the Life (mine)

 This morning I did wordle in 2 and went on to Spelling Bee, achieving the status of Genius and then Queen Bee even though there were 58 words to suss out. I went outside as the day had gotten beautiful, and contemplated bringing in the rest of my plants, but decided to leave them out a while longer to enjoy the weather. 

   The mail truck pulls out from my neighbor's but drives right on by my house. No mail for me. So I decide I will take advantage of the $15 off coupon offered by the new Hannaford in Brunswick. I drive there, traffic fairly light even on Hoosick Street. Well, it is Saturday. I spot the new Hannaford, sitting like a shining city on a hill after descending into a virtual gorge. The entrance reminded me of access to a California freeway or something. 

  I toured the store, hoping to find items which have not been available at several local stores. I had some success:  Van's plain frozen waffles, mint Pepcid (I don't like berry), and even  the elusive sweet potato, but they did not have  Ensure Coffee Latte. They seemed to have a full stock of everything else. The Pharmacy seemed under utilized as yet, with the guy standing outside greeting people as they passed by. Prices seemed the same as locally, as best I could judge. And they honored the $15 off coupon, though still charged a nickel for  the bag.

   As I exited some women customers standing in front of a table were discussing the freebies, red tomato-like hand exercisers, they determined.                                

They looked into the little plastic container, said they didn't know what it was and put it back. I took one out of curiosity, and haven't the faintest idea of what its purpose may be. (See pictures.)  And, oh, I entered a drawing for some fantabulous amount of money.

P.S. The day's not over yet. Just received an email from Thred-Up that one of my items has sold. My take is $.61. 

***Update: I'm advised that this red plastic tube thing is a reusable drinking straw for the environmentally conscious. 

Lash Flash

    Had an interview with a potential "provider" today. She seemed professional and competent, but I get distracted and inexplicably annoyed by those rows of fake furry eyelashes. Why?

Dour Grapes

    I am deep in the process of Grape Conserve right now, so don't bother me by asking  for some of the finished product. Ha!  And to think my mother made this---more than once, without a single grousing. The only benefit I see is I love the smell of grapes.

Grape Gripe

 Had to "harvest."  Grapes were falling off the vine. But now what?

Shopping Sermon

    I went to Price Chopper today looking for several items I haven't been able to find for a while  at ShopNSave. PC didn't have them either, but I bought a few items anyway. 

      In addition to my purchases, the cashier at the register shared what Father O'Keefe said at this morning's Mass relating to today's date, 9/11. "Don't say  Never Forget, but instead say Always Remember."  (I realize it's a more positive outlook, but personally I can't see any difference. 

21 Years Ago

    It was a nice day, and Dave had just left for the golf course, the Battenkill. We didn't have the TV on until after he left, but shortly after that I turned it on. The image was of a plane stuck in one of the World Trade Towers. At first, it didn't seem too  serious, maybe a drunk or sick pilot. I hope nobody got hurt, I thought. The damage didn't seem that major. Until it did!

  I was alone in the house and the bottom fell out of my world, and I felt the need to talk to somebody.  I called the local relatives, but they weren't interested in talking about it, at least not to me. I called the  golf course, and was told only that he was out on the course. I tried to call my kids, but they didn't answer their phones, were probably working. Only David called back soon. I think he had recently flown in from somewhere. He lived in his house on North Street then, and the perpetrators would have passed practically below his residence. Or something like that...

A Million Pumpkins

     Well, maybe not quite that many, but there are an awful lot of pumpkins at the newly revised Tiashoke Farms in Easton. What used to be a working farm which sold pumpkins in the fall and featured a few penned alpacas has now become a major enterprise. It is still a working farm but now could almost compete with the local fair. You'd have to see it to appreciate the extent of and the arrangements of the pumpkins, gourds, and other stuff, including a pumpkin cottage.  (M. may post a picture.)  Also antique farm equipment, rustic furniture, baby animals, frozen farm foods (with ice cream coming soon), farm-themed  t-shirts, and other products and wares. A Cheese Tour was scheduled for today, and a Food Truck is available at certain times, including tomorrow. The only drawback is the steep driveway to the main barns and the unevenness of the terrain, not a problem for youth, but tricky for those with less agility. 

What Books Contain

 I can look through my college literature books, stored for many, many years, and, coming across a piece of literature, especially a poem, I am transported back to the classroom and the professor who had assigned the work. I used to think, before google, that if I could recall everything I'd ever learned that I would be very knowledgeable indeed. 

 I suppose I once was able to respond to and provide an analysis of the readings,  such as those of  T.S. Eliot: 

       "Time present and time past are both perhaps present in time future, and time future contained in time past. If all time is eternally present all time is unredeemable. What might have been is an abstraction remaining a perpetual possibility only in a world of speculation."

    (Maybe I should dump these books.

The indelible Legacy of that Russian Literature course:

Ben would understand.

 "How Much Land Does A Man Need?" According to Leo Tolstoy, "Six feet from his head to his heels was all he needed."

Books, Books, Books

 There is a large accumulation of books in my house. All kinds of books, fiction, poetry, textbooks. I have rehomed many of the volumes, through various means, but many still remain.

  An online site, the Book Warehouse, had advertised they would accept all books, even buy some. They would accept any and all books, as long as they weren't torn apart or moldy. I found they would come to my house. I loaded several boxes, planning to put them outside for pickup. I can't keep things forever, you know. But, alas, Book Warehouse, probably due to overload, now accepts only books with a barcode. That excludes my old books, almost all of them. So I guess it's back to dollar day on eBay, which is now dead, or else the garbage. But then, books don't take up that much room, and they are easy to store.

  One of the books I came across was P.C. Wren's Beau Geste, and it evokes a vivid memory from long ago. Dorothy and I were avid readers; about the only criticism we ever received from our parents centered on our love for reading. During the day, I can still hear our mother's voice telling us to put that book down and go outside and play and  enjoy the day. Our father would thump on the heat register near his bed which opened into the living room when we would be reading late at night. Time to turn off the lights and go to bed. This of course would be after homework had been long completed and we'd be reading from "library books," our guilty pleasure.

  On one such night, I was reading a book on the living room couch and Dorothy, probably about 12 years old,  was reading in  the chair by the window. Suddenly she broke into not only tears, but sobs and headed out the door on her way to upstairs. She turned to me in her despair as she left the room and cried out, "Digby is dead!"  

   I had not yet read Beau Geste, but soon did, and yes, it was very sad when Digby died.

Who Cares?

 A few days ago, there was an announcement that three local hospitals, Samaritan, St. Peter's, and Albany Memorial,  were on "full diversion."  All ambulances were directed to go to Albany Med.  The hospitals on diversion had to  "revaluate staffing shortages."  Full diversion usually means that a hospital has more incoming patients than beds, as happened at the height of the COVID epidemic, but it seems now the reason for the diversion is a shortage of health care workers. Aside from the fact that  this is an ideal opportunity for those workers to negotiate for their unions (remenber the  Nurses' strike during the COVID  crush), it could also be an earmark of the Life Is Good movement where people can be paid to work at home (or not), and no one is motivated to engage in distasteful activities.  

    There was a time when individuals were responsible for their own caretaking, and that of their alleged loved ones. But times changed and with the popularity of institutions designed for others to be paid to do the "dirty jobs," the burden was gladly shifted onto the shoulders of paid employees. But this is a free country, and what happens if no one, or only a few, want to assume the burden of depressing and moribund work. 

 Locally, the Walgreen's pharmacy in the village has had difficulty maintaining a staff to keep the drugstore open during regular hours. Many voice their outrage. Bring back RiteAid is their mantra, ignoring the fact that RiteAid voluntarily left an unprofitable business venture here. While we have needs and desires, where is it established that we have the right to have those needs met at our convenience. If registered pharmacists don't want to work in Schaghticoke, neither Walgreen's management nor anyone else can force them to.

  In times when life seems much easier and way less of a struggle than in previous times, it seems more proclaim their displeasure and say the opposite of what they are experiencing. The key may be that the sense of entitlement has expanded to a degree never before even imagined. But these times carry a  warning also never seen before. If one person can choose an easier road, then why not everyone else?If there is not enough staff in a hospital to care for patients, so what? Who is responsible? What are our rights? Who do we take our concerns to? 

   I read a while ago a futuristic account (or so it seemed at the time) of a coming age when all health care except for necessary surgery would be controlled by the individual.   Hospitals  would be surgical facilities only.  Diagnostics,  prescriptions, treatment plans would all be  activities between the patient and a network, no doctor visits or personal interaction,  so no need for malpractice insurance or facility upkeep and maintenance---just you and the internet. 

  Last week, the concept of self-care or rather no one else cares, became  a reality on a personal basis. Not a life-threatening instance, or at least I didn't think so. I woke up one morning and had absolutely no hearing in my left ear, and at a most inconvenient time. I checked with the ENT office where I'd had a less extreme hearing loss treated a few years ago, but they were booked until late October. So I bore with the problem during a few social events which had been scheduled. I learned such a disability is a double-edged sword: not only are you frustrated and annoyed because you find it hard to hear what is being said, but, even more frustrating and annoying is that others are annoyed with you because you have trouble hearing what they say. 

  For my own well being, as well as of those peeved at my hearing problem, I visited an urgent-care facility, WellNow. Everything as above became  apparent. Because it was (apparently) a minor health problem, the visit seems kind of funny. 

     I register at the desk, or tried to anyway. There was a woman behind the desk, slumped down in her seat behind a very tall glass enclosure. She was on the phone, unavailable, but another woman came out from a side door and said she would take my information. She said there would be a one-hour wait and I was welcome to go home and come back if I wished. I had brought my paper with puzzles so of course I waited. No problem so far. There was one other patient in the waiting room. After a while, he was called in and not long after I heard angry voices with the female voice asking if he was going to pay and the male angry voice saying he hadn't even seen anyone. I couldn't hear all because, you see, I have hearing loss. 

     In just about one hour, I am called into an exam room, or shown in, and left there.   After a while, a woman entered, told me her name, asked a few questions, took my bp, etc., and I couldn't help but notice her hygiene; her fingernails were dirty. She said my provider would be in. I asked who it would be. She said his name is Joe. I figured he was not an MD,  so I asked if he was a PA.No, she said, a LPN or such and then she said yes, a PA. I waited. A while.  Time went on, nothing. So I decided to leave. As I went past the desk, where  3 staff members were standing, I told them I'd had second thoughts and was going to leave. They said the Provider would be in soon, that they had only one Provider.  I told them maybe my issue is not one he treats. One said he has to, it's his job. I said I'd tried to call before I came in and  robot Amelia directed me to a "human" phone, but no one answered. Well, the phone doesn't ring here, she said, and she had no idea where it does ring. So I obliged and went back to the room and waited for Provider Joe. 

  Joe enters. I recapped my previous issue with earwax, and said the ENT office had removed it with a laser or such. He said we don't have that here. (surprise) He looked in my ears and said they both need the removal. He stepped out, didn't say good-bye or anything. After a while, another woman entered with the irrigation bottle and tray. "Hold this," she said handing me the tray, and she began to spray the water into my ear. With force, I must say, so it hurt. I can handle that, but then I felt dizzy, and told her so. She stopped, said she'd tell the doctor, and fled the room, leaving her equipment behind. I felt the irrigation bottle and it was cold. Which accounts, in large, for dizziness--it's supposed to be warm or warmish. 

  I waited, no one showed up, so I left. Passing the desk, I thanked them and said I was going home.