HUH?

Target pharmacy has a practice of placing rubber rings around the neck of the plastic prescription bottle. Theoretically, each family member gets his/her own ring in order to avoid prescription mix-ups. A couple months ago, I requested that no ring be placed on my prescriptions as I live alone and the rubber ring is not recyclable.The clerk made a note of it, and I've had no rings to remove and cut in half so that no bird ends up with a non-expanding ring around its neck.

This morning when I picked up a called-in prescription, the clerk told me ‘it is Target’s policy to place a rubber ring on each bottle'. As she started placing the purple ring on the bottle I told her to stop, as I was present and I had much earlier requested no ring since I live alone, hence no fear of mix-up. Again, ‘It’s Target’s policy. Again, I live alone, so there is no fear of a prescription mix-up. Her answer: ‘I can change the color to pink.’ I said the color doesn’t matter, the ring in not recyclable and it's unnecessary. Reply: ‘If it’s a problem to get the ring off the bottle, we can do it here.’ No, removing the ring is not problem; if you're going to remove it for me, why put it on in the first place?

It ended when I held out my hand for the ring, received it, and gave it back, saying you gave it to me and I’m returning it. She said she’d set her note aside and talk with the pharmacist. Arrrrrggggggg Let’s don’t and say we did.

It reminded me of the time, a few years ago when I was making a purchase at the mall-side checkout at Har-Mar’s Barnes and Noble Booksellers.There is a set of posts and cloth ‘rails’ to guide the crowds in a zig zag maze to the register/clerk. On this day, I was the only one in sight, besides the clerk. I went straight to the register instead of through the little maze. The clerk (very seriously) asked me to go through the maze. I said no, that’s ok; that’s for when there are several people. She was insistent on it and I again refused. While she was ringing up my purchase, another customer approached the register. I called it to the clerk’s attention with ‘Ah, now we have a crowd.’ She didn’t seem too happy with me.

Follow up from Nov. 8

I have Morton's Neuroma in my foot. Cortisone shot, a cushion for inside my shoe, staying off ladders (THAT is a difficult part - being short in an apartment with high cupboards, putting up window plastic, etc.), not crouching on my knees...but a follow-up appointment in five weeks.

I just may be able to get the tulip and daffodil bulbs into the ground this weekend...if I quickly drop to my stomach and then roll over and pull myself up by the shovel handle! Silly picture - just use one knee and get the boys to help. Two of them, especially, take great pride in planting.

Leonid meteor shower next week, November 17. We're planning a party in the parking area - midnight snacks, lights out, blankets and star gaze. When I lived in Sturgeon Bay, a friend of mine, Kathy, and I would lie on a picnic table at deserted Sunset Beach in the middle of the night, drinking tea and searching the vastness of the sky for shooting stars.

This one's all about me...

Life lessons sometimes poke me annoyingly. I've been told I need to tell friends more often when I need help; that's true. It's easier said than done. One of our young friends, who came to Saturday's movie on the porch last night, reminded me of that. He had no idea of his 'poke', but it had me thinking today. Cesar said, "Are you ok? You look sick." He was pretty direct. I told him I was just feeling a little down...that truth was that when I had stopped at three different places and spent money, I was annoyed that no one says 'thank you'. When did 'there you are' or 'have a good day' become substitutes for 'thank you' (for choosing to spend your money here, so I have a job!?).

In truth, and I think I should have been honest with Cesar, my leg is in great pain and I want to cry. The ball on my other foot feels like I'm walking on a wadded up, twisted sock. I have doctor appts on Thursday and Friday, so I hope to know something then. The pain in walking is driving the energy from me and I feel sapped. It's more the norm for me to say 'I'm ok'. My birth family seldom went to the doctor...when I was dragged by a Good Humor ice cream truck, when another child threw a brick at my brother's head and cracked it open, when he had polio, when my mother's knee was gashed open and she had glass in her eyes from a car accident - that's when we went to the hospital. Other than that, I went to the doctor three times when I was a kid. I allowed my ex-husband to reinforce that behavior in some ways with his accusations that I complained and wasn't really sick (viral pneumonia)...a friend came and took me to the doctor.

So, I have a high pain tolerance and have to really consider when I visit the doctor. The whole point of this isn't pain, etc., but Cesar's sweetness and directness in asking about my health when he saw that there was something more obvious than I thought. I work in an environment where I feel invisible.

I could go in with a cast on my nose and most co-workers probably wouldn't notice...did you ever realize how people (and I'm guilty of it) can look at another person, but not REALLY look? Cesar looked and cared enough to ask. I hope he never loses that. He's encouraged me to do better in giving an honest reply and in really looking at people....SEEING isn't just for motorcycles, it's for people, too.