Is Anybody Listening?

So, I admit, I'm not the avid blogger I used to be. And I admit, I don't push this blog like I should, or pay much attention to it. And like a forgotten houseplant, this blog is rather withered and brown. I have no problem with that. I honestly don't care if anyone reads this, truth be told. I actually have this up more for me than you (if there are any "yous" out there). It's a sort of "Dear Diary" for me... and in a way, if I choose to share anything too intimate, a little exhibitionist on my part. Are there any voyeurs out there?

So here's my little test.... Let's see if anyone is paying attention.

Bitch and Moan for the week:

Last week, my pants were falling off of me. Literally. I was having to hike them up every three steps or so, and I loved that I had lost that much weight. This week? I'm sitting here with the same pants unbuttoned and unzipped because all done up, they are WAY too tight. Amazing the difference a week can make, eh?

I am tired... ALL THE TIME

I am nauseated about half the time.

"I have heartburn radiating to my kneecaps" ~ Juno

Okay, not my kneecaps. My heartburn tends to radiate the other direction, into my jawbone, and usually hits me around 2:30 in the morning. If I'm lucky, it's gone by 5:30 or 6:00 and I can lay back down and get a little sleep.

AF (Aunt Flo) is due on Wednesday, but as you may suspect, and certain as I suspect, I'm probably pregnant.

We've been trying for #6 (our second together) for over a year now... maybe closer to two years. Last year just wasn't our year. I suffered a miscarriage in mid-January, then another in mid-November. If this one sticks, it will be our last. If it doesn't....I just don't know. I'm getting up there and have some health issues (CMP and chronic pain) so I'm honestly not sure of the wisdom of trying for another. But we both would LOVE to have a baby brother or (oh please oh please!) sister for Ash to play with.

So, only time will tell. I'll keep you (echo... echo.... echo...) posted.

Insanity

I have stood at the brink of the pit of insanity. It’s nothing like I expected it to be.

I expected the fall to be short, sunny and delirious. I expected the slide into insanity would be a gentle one, surrounded by wild, yet happy thoughts. Or even if they were not so happy, to at least have that warm oblivion wrapped around my brain like a heavy comforter on a cold day. I expected to be buffeted from the pain, the fear….oh god, the fear!

As I stood on the edge of the pit, the ground beneath me began to crumble. At that same moment, I lost all equilibrium. The fear of falling outweighed the fear of losing my children, which outweighed the fear of the fight to keep them. It outweighed the grief I felt in not having my husband with me. It outweighed the loneliness, the frustration, and the anger.

It outweighed them, but it did not erase them.

I can’t breath. I can’t think. I’m losing my grip on the ground beneath me and my grip on reality too.

The kitchen was spinning before my dazed eyes and the fear; the fear tried to swallow me. Or rather, it tried to force me to swallow it; infuse itself into me like a teabag infuses tea into hot water. The fear and I were nearly one, and I couldn’t catch my breath.

So this is what insanity feels like.

When you stand on the brink of the pit of insanity, you feel as if you are going to vomit. And pass out. And scream and cry and whimper and scream some more. There is no silently slipping into oblivion. Insanity is something that you go into, eyes wide with fear, nails clawing at the grit and pebbles at the edge of the pit. 

Somehow, I’m not sure how, I managed to claw my way back out. I was covered in dirt and dust and was breathing hard, even as I let go of the counter and wandered aimlessly into the all-but-empty living room.

That was a close one. Let’s not do that again, shall we?

Yes, good idea.

I have stood at the brink of the pit of insanity and let me tell you, it’s simply nothing like I expected it to be.

Dear Grocery Store Customer

Dear Grocery Store Customer,

Thank you for your patronage. Your business truly is appreciated, as it pays my salary. I promise to provide you with courteous, prompt and cheerful customer service. In return, please allow me to outline a few helpful hints that you, the customer, can do to help move the process along:

1. There is something in our Checker World called "IPMs." This is "Items Per Minute" or to put it more plainly, The Management keeps track of how quickly we check you out from the time we ring up your first item until we hit the "Enter" button and hand you your receipt. If YOU cause a delay of some sort ("Oh, I forgot the milk. Can I just run back real quick and get it?") then our IPMs drop. A lot. And it also holds up everyone else in line and generally pisses them off. And face it, are we really going to tell you no, you CAN'T go get that item you forgot, since it will only, "Take a second" to get? No, we will not.

2. Do not stand at the end of the belt and place your groceries, one by one, to travel the lonely mile all the way to me. The belt is not a carnival ride nor do the groceries derive any pleasure from having to travel ALLLLLL the way down from one end to the other. The grocery police will not arrest you if you stand in the MIDDLE of the belt and load your groceries. Trust me, things go MUCH quicker, and I will be less cranky on the inside if I can just buzz through your items, rather than watching my IPMs drop like a lead weight in water.

3. Do not get upset or impatient with me if I hold the belt until you've finished unloading your cart (or at the very least, sufficiently filled up the belt). Trust me. I can probably check your items faster than you can put them on the belt. Please see points 1 and 2 for my reasoning on this.

4. There is no need to organize your groceries alphabetically, stack them like little miniature castles or create beautiful origami with them. All your hard work will only be undone when I pick them up (randomly) and run them across the scanner. There is also no need to tell us to "keep the cold items together." I PROMISE, we will straighten it all out on the other side and bag your groceries professionally and properly.

5. My greeting to you is obligatory, and we both know it. This is not, however, any reason to be pissy with me. I am simply doing my job when I greet you with a genuine smile, ask if you found everything okay, and offer you the sale item of the week. I have no frickin' idea if you've shopped here a million years and know this store better than I do, or if you are from another city and had trouble finding the sugar-free cookies.

6. When you cannot find said sugar-free cookies, and I offer to send someone to get them for you, don't get all bitchy with me and insist we don't carry them anymore. I just saw the damn things yesterday on our shelves and know for a fact that we do still carry them. If I'm uncertain, I'll say so, and call a manager to find out for sure.

7. There are these wonderful little inventions called "Dividers." We provide them for your use to place between orders. This is so I know when your order ends and the next order begins. I am not a fucking mind-reader. Use the fucking divider. Thank you.

8. If you insist on bringing your children with you to the store, for christssake, do NOT let them bag the groceries. We also have goals to place X number of items in each bag, and to use the smaller bags when necessary. I guarantee you, your 8 year old has no fucking idea how to bag groceries.

9. On that same note: If you insist on raising a brat, please have the decency to at least watch them. I do not appreciate ringing up your order AND the order of the person behind me because YOUR little angel decided to remove the divider. And no, it's not my job to watch and make sure the divider doesn't get moved. I'm busy. Get off the damned cell phone and be a parent for once.

10. If you are in the check-out stand directly behind me, please be mindful of my personal space and keep out of it. I have a tiny little area to work in and I don't need your fat ass backing into mine.

11. There are times where we are short-handed and don't have enough baggers to help bag groceries. There are also times we are incredibly busy, and all said baggers are out helping other customers put their groceries in their respective vehicles. In the event this happens while I'm checking out your $400-plus basket(s) of groceries, would you please be so kind as to quit staring at me and help me bag some of your own shit? And if this act is beneath you, that is more than okay. At the very least, pick up the bags I've already filled and put them in your goddam basket already. I don't have a lot of room at the low side of the register and it truly is appreciated when you help out.

12. Do not give me your nasty, sticky coins or bills that have milk, juice and god-knows-what-else on them. I don't want them.

13. Do not lie to me about the price of something. Do not get impatient with me when I have to do a price check. You will be found out if you lie and I HAVE to do the damn price check. I've been burned too many times by schmucks insisting the price is such-and-such. Management frowns on the loss of dollars after the third time in a week I get taken.

14. Do NOT give me your religious pamphlets, stickers, bookmarks, etc. While some checkers in this hell they call the Bible-Belt may appreciate your gifts and get all warm and fuzzy, not everyone here is a Christian and I don't care how you slice it, it is considered proselytizing. Besides, I just throw it away when you're gone. You're welcome.

15. When you want cash back from a transaction, fucking - LISTEN - TO - ME - when I give you instructions on how to get your damn cash. Don't get mad at ME and storm out, forgetting your ice along the way, just because YOU couldn't follow directions.

16. Men, for the love of god and all that is holy, please cut your nasty, gross fingernails.

17. Please forgive me if I don't remember your face or name the first few times you go through my line. I know we live in a small town, but there are still a lot of names and faces to learn.

18. To those of you who are cheerful, pleasant, helpful and just plain nice: Thank you. I love each of you. For those of you that actually carry on a conversation with me, THANK YOU!! You not only make my job easier, but make me look good in front of the boss. For those of you who have bad days, but don't take it out on me, thank you. I really will listen to you when you tell me what a shitty day/week/month you're having. I will commiserate with you and feel you pain, sincerely.

Invisible

Wednesday, February 17, 2010 at 1:14pm

When I walk, I am invisible.
No one can see me, except for the dogs.
I pull my hood up over my head, going into Super-Stealth Mode.
I push my way along, turning the earth with my feet.
First this way, then that way,
The earth moves at my whim.
A dog barks as I pass by.
Shh! You'll give me away!
Stupid dog.
Cars pass by me. I am only a ripple in the airwaves to them.
They avoid me out of instinct, though they know not why.
I meet another walker. We acknowledge one another with a slight turn of the head.
He is invisible too, but we are not to each other.
I notice the dogs don't bark when he passes by. I must learn this technique.
When I walk, I am invisible.
My jeans give me away. They make a rhythmic sound as I walk, but only on the right side.
I notice a familiar turn in the road.
The fairies still haven't picked up their sprocket they carelessly left behind.
I see the grill plate too. Sloppy, sloppy fairies.
Maybe I'll pick those items up for them, so they can stay invisible too.
It's a beautiful power to have, invisibility.
Don't you wish you had it too?

The Little Assassin

Monday, January 4, 2010 at 7:30pm

You may have heard Brian and I marvel at how Ash just seems to "know" things. For example, he knew what sort of sound a car is supposed to make, he knew that if he put two sticks together, one was his "gun" and the other his "ammo" (and it doesn't work w/o the ammo!) along with the sound that a gun is supposed to make. In each case we have no idea how he's learned what he's learned.

Today is different. Today, he has his drumstick and has been busy stabbing the dishwasher, over and over and over. He steps back, lunges and does his little baby yell, "EEEEYAAAAA!!" If it wasn't so dang cute, it'd be a little on the disturbing side. But "cute" definitely wins out here. Honestly.

So where did he learn this? Ahhh, that's an easy one. The kids have been playing "Assassin's Creed" both I and II nonstop since Christmas. He's obviously picked up some pointers on some Knight Templar moves.

Of course, as I type this, he's lying on his back, with his feet in the air yelling, "DEE DEE DEE DAAADEEEE DEE DEE!!!!"

Brian seems to think Ash can protect us. I have my doubts.

Processing

Wednesday, December 23, 2009 at 10:34pm

So, I'm still trying to process this news. My brain knows what is about to happen; or maybe it's my heart. I'm not sure... they both are a little tangled up right now. I don't know if it just hasn't fully sunk in yet, or if I'm just going to keep this brave face until the afternoon of March 1st; only then letting down my guard to allow myself to cry.

Why would I cry? Relief, mostly. I know it's going to be okay. But still, it's a very scary thought.

I found out today that my 15 year old daughter, Josee, will be needing back surgery. She has very severe scoliosis and the doctor didn't even hesitate when he saw her x-rays.

"Her curve is 63 degrees. Back braces are only effective at halting the progression, not fixing the curvature. And even then, they are only moderately effective for curvatures of about 20 degrees to 40 degrees. She's going to need surgery."

The blood drained from my face. I exhaled and said, "I was afraid you were going to say that."

I too, have scoliosis. Mine is located in my lower back and at last measurement was some 46 degrees off. But lower back scoliosis and middle/upper back scoliosis are two different creatures entirely.

Prior to the good doctor coming into the exam room, we had been sitting there together. I recalled the dozens, perhaps hundreds of trips I took to see my own specialist when I was Josee's age. Each week I'd go in for another set of x-rays and each week he'd hem and haw and say, "You're just so active, I'm going to hold off putting you in a brace." When I finally turned 18 he released me from his care. Back then, there was some peripheral talk of back surgery. I was not opposed to the idea while my mother would bristle and balk. "Nobody is going to cut MY baby's back open... not if *I* have anything to say about it!" she used to announce to anyone that would listen.

But this is different. This is not an option. Josee MUST have the surgery. It's just that I wasn't expecting it. At least, I wasn't expecting it until I saw the x-rays for the first time. The second I saw them, and saw what exactly was going on with her spine and ribs, and how that must be affecting her internal organs and surrounding muscles, I knew that surgery would be a distinct possibility.

But that still didn't stop the blood from draining from my face.

Things are happening way too fast. She is scheduled for an MRI tomorrow. She will go in and give blood twice before surgery, in the event that she needs a transfusion, and everything is set up save the parent consult meeting. Surgery is scheduled for March 1st.

She's doing great, by the way. She's a real trooper. She's always been my hero, and she continues to be today.

So yeah, I'm putting on a brave face now because I'm Mom and that's what moms do. But don't bet the farm that I won't break down and cry the afternoon of March 1st when the doctor emerges from the six hour surgery to tell us that everything went great and she's in recovery.

"Wow!".... Items and Other Things

Monday, November 16, 2009 at 1:47pm

It's been busy at work. Crazy busy. Like "week of Thanksgiving" busy.

For those who don't know, I work part-time as a cashier at our local grocery store. I'm still considered a newb, but am finally gaining the trust and respect of my fellow baggers, who apparently refuse to bag for new checkers. Thank goodness for that, because bagging a $300 order by yourself with four other $300 orders waiting in line REALLY sucks.

But that is not what my note is about today. No, today I would like to discuss the "Wow" items. Wow items are those impulse buys the grocery store puts at the register. They are offered at a very special price and we checkers are required to offer said items. As incentive on the positive, whoever sells the most items "wins" for the week. I've won twice now, and come in third once... I think. They are not really good at letting us know, but there is money involved, so the incentive is still there to try. As incentive on the negative, if we DON'T offer the item or items, the customer has the right to obtain the item for free.

I can count on three fingers how often I've failed to offer the Wow item. No one has ever exercised their right to obtain their freebie, but I always realize my mistake within moments of closing the transaction. At any rate, sometimes I ask at the very end, sometimes I mention it in the middle. I RARELY use the words, "Do you want a Wow item?" but rather inform the poor soul on the other side of my register that, "We have this item on sale for 99 cents and these doo-hickies are two for a dollar." Did I specifically OFFER the item? Technically, no... but I certainly did bring it to their attention, and the technique is what has allowed me to win so many times, even as a newb.

So yesterday, a woman came through my line. She was all dressed up in her Sunday finery. The first question out of her mouth after I finished up her order was, "What did I purchase that was so expensive??" I pulled her order back up and she realized the cake or some damn thing she picked up was $4-something rather than the $2.50 she claimed "the sign" said. My bagger dutifully trotted off to do a price check, and we stood and chatted for a few minutes while we waited for her to return. I commented on her dress and told her it was pretty and she responded, "Why THANK you! We have a special meetin' at church tonight," confirming my suspicions that she was a "God-fearing" woman.

Hint: "Special meetin'" is code for, "I'm an evangelical and I attend church whenever those doors open because I just cain't git enough of the Holy Spirit PRAISE GOD!!"

About this time, the bagger came back and told me she couldn't find a sign (this should have been a major red flag for me that this gal was what we call a "distractor," but I didn't think much about it). The woman kept insisting, "No, it's okay... no problem.. I'll just take the cake..." So I finished up her order in my usual manner.

As soon as I handed her the receipt, she got this smirk on her face and said, "You didn't offer me a basket item."

I stopped for half a second to filter through my memory (Notice I didn't place the actual offering in my dissertation above). I responded with, "I'm pretty sure I did." Even as the words came out of my mouth, I knew it was a battle I could not win. It was my word against hers. And who is always right? Yep. The customer.

I sighed and asked her which item did she want? She took claim on the toothpaste. I then asked her WHICH toothpaste she wanted, and she waved her hand and said, "I don't care.. any of them."

There are five fucking flavors to choose from. And if I've learned one thing as a checker, I've learned that people in general are VERY picky about their toothpaste.

So I grabbed one and ran it across the scanner. She immediately got even huffier with me and said, "You can't charge me for that!" I calmly told her that no, I wasn't going to charge her for it, but I still had to run it through the system.

"Yeah, but when they don't ask me up in Austin, they just hand it to me. That's how they ALWAYS do it."

Ahhh... and your M.O. is revealed! And please note that she continued to bring up this point several times throughout the remainder of her time with me.

I calmly informed her again that I needed to follow protocol and run it through the system.

Once I did, the manager override screen came up, so I called for a manager. She was becoming more agitated by the minute now. Of course, I was beyond pissed, because I DID ask her if she wanted the stupid item, but was powerless to do anything about it. It was the principle of the thing.

Did I mention it was busy in the store?? It took several minutes to get a manager over there to input the override (and they always want to know what they are overriding). I told him it was the Wow Initiative, and as I stepped behind him to allow him access to my keyboard, I whispered, "I asked her."

I think she may have heard me, but I'm not certain if it was that, the fact that the manager had to come over, or the act of my actually chucking the item down the belt for the bagger, that made the look I saw cross her face, actually cross her face.

What was that... was that... guilt?? Maybe. Or maybe it was embarrassment at having caused such a scene over a 99 cent item that she knew, and I knew, she had lied to obtain.

I pulled myself together in the less than 10 seconds that all this transpired (from manager to bagging her item) and handed her the small sack of groceries and said, with the most pleasant of voices AND a smiles, "You have a wonderful day, ma'am."

It wasn't until I found my immediate manager on my break a few minutes later, and with two other managers there, explained what happened (only to be told not to sweat it, but that's another seven paragraphs alone, so I'll skip it) that I realized that it wasn't the fact that I had to unjustly give away a basket item; it was the hypocrisy of this woman that made me so angry. Her "front" of being a good, church-goin' woman was overshadowed by the smugness and her "GOTCHA!" attitude of getting something for nothing.

I can't stand hypocrites. I can't stand liars. And I can't stand those who combine the two and then throw a smarmy smile in on top of it all. I hope Jesus really, really gets her for this one.