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Lisa Stein

paper crafter, crochet addict, book reader, golden retriever lover, vegan

Today

I have so many things to say. So many things going through my head. Pardon the rambling.
First. My sincerest thoughts and prayers go out to the people affected in today’s tragedy. 
I don’t know how these things happen. I don’t know what makes someone take a gun into a school with the intention of killing people. Of killing children. I’m glad I don’t know. I don’t want to join the ranks of people who are so far gone that this is what they do.
I don’t have children. That is not by choice. Sometimes I question why I can’t have children. Is it because I’d be a bad mother? Because I’m going to have cancer and would leave that child motherless? And when things like this happen I can’t help but wonder why the people that commit these horrible crimes can have children. 
I ran some errands this afternoon. This was after I’d heard about this horrific shooting. I didn’t want to be home. I knew I’d read news stories that weren’t accurate, that weren’t vetted, and I was already crying. I needed to be away from the news.
While at target I heard a woman say to what looked like her five year old daughter, “you either go to San Diego with us or you stay home alone in the house”. Who says this to their child? Let alone on a day like today? I wanted to turn to her and say “ma’am, if you don’t want your child, I’ll be more than happy to take her, and would never threaten to leave her alone in a house while her family was away.”
Then I was driving home and my local radio station had an announcement about a vigil this afternoon. A time to come together as a community and offer support to one another. I thought that was a nice thing. Then they played a song. “Pumped Up Kicks”. Do you know this song? Do you know the lyrics? Here’s an excerpt:

All the other kids with the pumped up kicks 
You’d better run, better run, outrun my gun
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks
You’d better run, better run, faster than my bullet
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks
You’d better run, better run, outrun my gun
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks
You’d better run, better run, faster than my bullet
I had to pull the car over. I was crying, instantly. tried to call the station but the lines were busy. I was hoping it was because other outraged people were calling them, but it ends up it was contest time. I tweeted them instead. figuring it would be instantaneous. this is what I said:

Radio station announced vigil for #SandyHook then played “Pumped Up Kicks”. @mix969 you should have known better. Please apologize.

Then I did what I could to make myself feel better. Hugged a friend’s four and five year old daughters. And hid my tears.
If you have children, please, go hug them, and don’t ever let them go.

Edited to Add: I just got an email from the on-air personality from the radio station. He was very apologetic. Explained that the music is pre-picked and not changeable, and that when he heard the song his heart sank. I appreciate him replying to my email, and understand that he felt the same way I did, and do. He has asked for that song to be removed from rotation for the next short while. I’m glad.

Oh, The Places We Have Been

What is it about the places we used to live, that makes us go back and look at them?

It’s something my mother does, each time she’s in Savannah, Georgia, her home town.

It’s something my father used to do when he took us to downtown Philadelphia.

It’s something my husband does whenever we’re meandering through different parts of Scottsdale. With him, though, it’s become a joke. “Yes, honey, as a matter of fact, I DID know you lived here once. You see, I pay attention to you when you talk to me, and you might have mentioned if a few (read that as EVERY SINGLE TIME WE DRIVE BY) times.”

That happened today. Robert pointed out a place where he used to live, and shockingly, it was a new place on my list of Places Robert Has Lived.

It got me thinking about this subject, though.

Why do we go back to the places we’ve been before. Is it to see if it looks the same? If it feels the same? Do we leave a little part of ourselves wherever we’ve been, and then we go back to see if we can recapture that part of our soul?

I think it’s a nice thing, in a melancholy way, to look at the places where we used to live.

I also happen to think it’s nice to look at Oh, The Places You’ll Go.

I Think It’s About Time

That some of these things became reality:

  1. A clothes folding machine. This can be the final cycle of my dryer, I don’t care. It’s the worst part of laundry.
  2. A pillow or pillowcase that stays cold. I’m sick of flipping my pillow all night long.
  3. Legs that self-shave. Or something like that. Haven’t we evolved past the need for leg hair?

Was this too much information?

Oh, and I’d like a dish fairy too. Even if she just puts the dishes away after the dishwasher is finished.

Craft Store Oddities

A new Hobby Lobby opened near me today. This is exciting only in that my local Michaels is not one of the fancy stores; in fact, it’s pretty bad. I went to Hobby Lobby to see if there were any opening day specials, etc. Didn’t notice anything spectacular, other than that the store was clean. And the clearance section was stocked with random things that they wanted you to buy, things that shouldn’t have been clearanced. Like the cute little chicken that will sit on my kitchen counter soon.

Here’s the weird thing about Hobby Lobby. And when I say “the” weird thing, I mean the one that bothers me the most. Why don’t they have bar code scanning cash registers? They put out a flyer every week and the cashiers have to figure out what you’re buying and whether or not it’s on sale this week. That makes perfect sense for a store that just opened its doors on October 22, 2009, right? If only that technology was available. Soon, I hope.

Now, let’s discuss a policy at Michaels that makes my head want to explode. This first came to light about two months ago when my friend Tracy was at a Michaels and a bunch of items from their clearance section rang up at .01. That is not a typo, that’s a penny. Items at Michaels rang up as a penny. Tracy thinks this is wonderful, of course. Until the cashier says “you can’t buy these things, when something rings up at a penny that means it needs to be thrown out.”

Yes, I did say “thrown out” and Tracy clarified that the term meant what it sounded like it meant. They THROW THINGS AWAY RATHER THAN SELLING THEM OR DONATING THEM. What a strange policy.

So… Tracy and I are at Michaels a few days ago, on the elusive search for a Martha Stewart punch, and something rings up as a penny. We just look at each other, we know what’s coming next. It doesn’t come. The cashier lets us buy this item, a Sizzix die. For a penny. Yahoo!

Since the Cashier seems friendly, I inquire about the “throw out the clearanced items” policy, and she does confirm that that is the official policy. Items cannot be sold, they must be thrown out. I ask why the items aren’t donated to a school, or a senior home, etc. She says it’s because people will return the items for credit or refunds. I suggest they could take the items out of the packaging, and donate them “naked”. She pretty much looks at me like I’ve grown a horn out of my forehead.

I then go on to suggest that they could donate the items out of the country, where stores don’t exist so they can’t be returned. Now it seems that my horn has changed colors. She says “it’s a weird policy, I don’t agree with it, it just is.” End of conversation.

What do you think of this policy? Wasteful, right? Poor economic choice as well. Why not just let people buy the items?

Health Care Estimates

We had to take our dog to the doggie ER at 4am Friday. He’s fine, but it was scary. Probably more so for us than for him. Once they thought about what treatment they wanted to do, they presented us with two estimates. One was for the minimum care and the other was for the ideal care. The second included x-rays, etc.

We decided on which course of action we wanted, they had us sign the estimate, then they took our doggie away for some treatment in back.

Afterward we went to pay the bill and it was exactly the same as the estimate.

Today I opened the mail and we have an Explanation of Benefits from our (human) health insurance company, telling us that we are responsible for $171.39 for an ultrasound one of us recently received. How come we didn’t know that in advance? Why didn’t the doctor’s office tell us what the fees would be? We paid our co-pay, and I guess in some self-induced health care fantasy, I thought that would cover the day’s activities.

Why do our pets receive up-front information and we don’t?

The thing is, I had an x-ray a few months ago. You might remember my ranting about needing physical therapy, but having to have an x-ray before I could get cleared for PT. I didn’t think to ask in advance, what that x-ray would cost me, but afterward I did call and ask. And got a complete runaround. I can only imagine what would have happened had I asked at the check-in desk.

We need to make this simpler. When you sign that “financial responsibility” form at a Doctor’s office, you really have no idea what you’re agreeing to, not until the bill comes. When did we, as Americans, agree to that?

Oh, and Tucker is 98% back to normal now, thank G-d. We were very scared, but he’ll be okay.

Things that make you say “huh”.

I got this month’s issue of Real Simple in the mail over the weekend. Opened it last night and saw a small blurb about disposing of expired medication. It starts by stating that putting medicine down the drain, and therefore into the sewer system, is not a good idea. It damages the ecosystem and waterways. I couldn’t agree more.

Goes on to say that you should “mix most expired pills with coffee grounds, cat litter, or sawdust in a zippered plastic bag and throw it out with the garbage”. This poses a problem for me as I don’t have or use any of those items. I’m just being hypothetical here though, as I don’t have any pills to dispose of either.

Here’s where I get lost:

“Highly addictive drugs, such as Percocet and OxyContin… should be flushed, to eliminate any chance of accidental ingestion.”

Who is digging through coffee grounds, cat litter and/or sawdust to get illicit drugs? Is it wrong for me to think that if someone is going to all that effort, they should get a little “something something” for their efforts?

Are you a Taster or a Gambler?

I just got home from our local “farmer’s market” where I’ve lately been buying my produce for the week. I get a bag of cherries, then proceed to the bulk aisle. While I’m scooping some sushi style rice into my bag, I notice a woman carrying a bag of cherries back to the cherry section. And she takes a pit out of her mouth. Huh.

She puts the bag of cherries back onto the display, then takes another bag and places it into her cart. I think to myself “Oh, she must have tasted one, it met with her approval, and now she’s getting a different bag to buy because she wouldn’t want to buy the one that was opened.”

A few moments later she comes back to the cherry display, and puts her bag BACK on the display. Walks away empty handed. What does that mean?

When I first saw her I almost, jokingly, asked her how the cherries were, since I had just put a bag in my cart. And now, I was concerned that the cherries were so unpalatable that she couldn’t even fathom buying a bag, even though she’d tested at least two different bags.

What do you do? Do you sneak a taste in the store, or take the risk?

I’m a gambler. I buy the produce. If it’s bad, I either throw it out, in the case of a plum or peach; a single item product. If it’s a multiple item product, like strawberries, or let’s say, cherries, and they’re bad, I return them to the store.

That’s another reason to love Whole Foods. They usually have lots of samples out, and they are more than happy to provide a sample to you if you ask.

And, in case you’re wondering, my strawberry container this week has about one more strawberry than last week.

Edited to add: I have to return my cherries. They’re all soft and not edible. Irony isn’t a strong enough word.