MANNERS AT WALMART

I have never thought of Walmart as a center of socially acceptable mannerisms.

But I realized this morning that there are certain 'acceptable' ways of acting, even in a perhaps lower-level of civilization such as Walmart.

My husband and I went before our weekly breakfast-out for a few necessary items, and hit Walmart in its first-of-the-month-payday splendor - crowded, noisy, busy and unsupervised.

And my dear husband kept DOING things, things which are AGAINST the natural order of shopping.

He kept leaving his cart in the middle of the aisle, without enough room for people to move around, and would walk over to a completely different aisle.

Abandoning it, and effectively blocking the aisle.

He would walk across open spaces without looking around for other customers - much like merging without yielding to traffic already there,

He would stop to look at something, and not even register the line of people behind waiting not-so-patiently for him to move.

I was getting more and more irritated at him before it really registered what I was miffed about.

And it made me stop and think - are these 'traditions' anything worthy of blindly conforming to?

I know that because he abandoned his cart in an inappropriate stop, I found out that WalMart does carry body-pillows (on a low shelf not anywhere near the regular pillows).

I got to exchange a lot of "well isn't this exasperating" looks with complete strangers.

And I suddenly recollected living in the 60's, when we were trying to be the 'new' generation, trying to shake up the status-quo, rebel against the 'old' standards.

What happened to us old hippies, who can't even approach WalMart as a new experience?

Why can't we experience WalMart as a unique and out of the ordinary occurrence? What is wrong with breaking up the nor mal (stale) order of things to look for things (body pillows) in a new and different way (and actually discover something in the process)? 

Next time I go to WalMart, I'm going to wear psychedelic colors and flowers in my hair - I'm going to go UP and the DOWN aisles and DOWN all the UP aisles - I am going to walk through in the opposite direction that I normally do - I'm going to sing old Joni Mitchell and Bob Dylan songs outloud.

It may be the only way to experience WalMart, anyway,

LET ME RANT AND RAVE FOR A MOMENT HERE

I have to remind myself from time to time that this is MY blog.

This is a place where I can rant and rave and shout and print obscenities (well, okay, I won't go quite that far) and get it out of my system instead of raising my blood pressure and causing an ulcer.

I'm having to deal with a close relative who has suddenly decided that immediately (as TODAY) he wants to be released from the nursing home where he has been for almost an year, and refuses to consider any possibility that he MIGHT not quite be ready for home life.

And regardless of how many times I TELL him this, he refuses to hear and comprehend,

I'm just tired of this. I've been taking care of this ''adult" for the past two years - it's more like having a child throwing temper tantrums.'.

Okay, that's all I needed to get out of my system... at least for this evening.

FORGETTING FACES

My mother-in-law is in her eighties, and is becoming more conscious of her memory lapses.

Tonight she was trying to remember the first name of a woman she had know all of her (the woman's) life, and simply couldn't come up with it. And was trying to be cheerful about it, but it obviously bothered her.

I have always had problems with putting the correct name to the face. Since young adulthood.

I have a brain injury I can blame part of it on, but I simply have never had a great memory for names.

I can blame the fact that some people simply don't look like their name (I am forever having problems with Yvonne, who simply does not LOOK like a Yvonne - a Kathy, a Lisa, great, but not a Yvonne).


Or perhaps this is early Alzheimer's, settling into my poor damaged brain early.

MEETING FACE TO FACE

I  must be an evil person.

The idea of having a meeting about a certain person without the presence of that certain person sounded great to me.

That way we could freely say things and openly discuss things which otherwise would  get this certain person upset and agitated and distraught.

Made perfect sense to me.

I was outvoted.

So we had a distinctly awkward, stilted meeting where we tiptoed carefully around the subjects and methods and decisions.

And almost everything was almost finally addressed.

But I was holding my breath for almost half an hour, and it was extremely uncomfortable.

BUT WHAT ARE YOU REALLY SAYING HERE?

There are polite ways to phrase questions and requests.

"Please excuse me" sounds much better than "Get outta my way."

"Could you pass me the salt" is nicer than "Whadda ya doing, hogging all the seasonings?!"

But then you get into questions with possibly a dual meaning.

Last night my husband asked me if the dishwasher had clean or dirty dishes in it.

Perfectly reasonable request, but it MEANT something different,

It MEANT "So will you unload it so I don't have to."

A innocent inquiry - "Did you get my laundry done?"

Meaning "Did you get my laundry done and if not, WHY?"

Or am I simply being too sensitive?

 

WE GATHER THIS DAY TO MOURN THE PASSING...

My PC had died.

It's been declining for several weeks, but also could be rebooted, coddled and talked into operating,

It now is completely dead.


I miss it.

We've enjoyed a close relationship for a number of years, and I was accustomed to its cyber layout, its keyboard and mouse. It's been where I can play on it and still watch my DVDs with my feet up on a small crate.









We were affected by the government shut-down more than most of you were - we didn't get a full paycheck, and won't get our back pay for a few more weeks.


So buying a replacement will have to wait.

In the meantime, I am stuck with using my cellphone and this old Toshiba laptop. 
 And I am not very happy about it.

TALKING TO MYSELF

I freely admit I talk to myself quite a bit.



I'm home alone the majority of the day, so I do talk to the animals and myself.



I've been told for years that this can be a sign of declining mental health, so I suppose I should be concerned, but I'm not.



Everyone has some sort of monologue going on in their head constantly; I just voice mine occasionally.

 It's a way, for me at least, to blow off some steam - relieve some stress.



And if I direct my thinking towards God, it's called prayer, and that's perfectly acceptable.