No such thing as ‘customer service’ anymore.

Your work place has open enrollment for insurance and you sign up for a date and time.

You receive several notifications via email and text over several weeks as reminders that ‘someone will call you at your appointment time’.

You arrange your schedule so you are available and there won’t be any interruptions.

The time comes and you wait….

….and wait…..

……..and wait……

Now it’s 40 minutes later than your scheduled appointment time, no phone call and you have shit to do.

That’s irksome!!

Daily Prompt: Irksome

Who ISN’T angry?

Daily Prompt: “ANGRY

Wow, how appropriate ~~~

animal rights activists, trump, extreme right, black lives matter, religious zealots, immigrants, lbgt, equal rights, civil rights, human rights, animal rights, climate change, isis, muslims, jews, white supremacy, washington is broke, 1%, health care, unemployment, minimum wage, homeless, gun reform, freedom of speech, freedom of the press, veterans…………..    …………..


I’d like to know who isn’t angry about something. If we are not angry we must be on a slow-simmer and just one straw away from snapping. I’m thinking, if you are not angry/simmering, your life must be REAL good because everyone has something to be legitimately angry about right now.

Me…well, I work the night shift in ‘healthcare’ (not really healthy and not really caring) at a facility (ginormous corporation with hundreds of facilities) that doesn’t put money back into the building, equipment, or it’s employees. We regularly run out of: toilet paper, paper towels & gloves (and, supposedly, the ‘management’ isn’t “allowed” to go to the local store and buy supplies between stock delivery). I have to be on the unit during my entire 12 hour shift and I’m not allowed to have a beverage at my ‘station’ and, when I eat (I don’t get ‘breaks’ off the clock) I have to stand in an area called the ‘nutrition center’ which is a corner of the nursing station with a trash basket and a counter that is four feet long and completely taken up with a microwave, kurig, toaster, and a very tiny (filthy) sink. No stool, chair, or place to put a plate, bowl or cup. Everyone slinks around like prisoners under surveillance and “get in trouble” are words I hear so often I can’t believe I’m a 53 year old woman in a ‘profession’ in the USA and not some…well, dictator state. And the patients/residents have it worse. I get to go home. Hell, I can eventually leave if/when it becomes intolerable. I get $1.00 an hour for working the night shift and…no such thing as “holiday pay” except for Thanksgiving and Christmas, 48 hours of “personal time” per year and one week vacation time (until – IF – I’ve been there 5 years, then it’s TWO weeks!!)

But I don’t get angry. I have adapted to this chronic state of employment. I’ve been in the unhealthy+careless environment for over 20 years and it has been a quick evolution from respectable career to a despicable job. I wouldn’t recommend a “healthcare” field to anyone unless it’s your PASSION to become a nurse, doctor, or what-have-you. It is almost completely thankless and unappreciated not only by the employers but by the public. Healthcare personnel work closely with police officers and EMT’s and we are all treated as servants (not “public servants” but they kind who are property and have no rights) or money-grubbing enemies of the public (in general). We are yelled at, sworn at, spit at, hit, punched, attacked, slapped, groped and told what to do or…”I’ll…report you/sue you/etc.” I can honestly say I believe that prison guards are treated better ~ if they are assaulted, they can defend themselves. We’re expected to ‘tolerate’ it because the people we ‘deal with are “ill”…’ ~ NOT. Most are self-serving, entitled, hostile assholes who use their “illness/sickness/behavioral issues” as an excuse to act out to the people who are trying to help them. If you wonder why the ER/hospital staff seem cold, indifferent, etc…well, think about spending 40 hours a week being verbally, physically, emotionally abused by the people you take care of AND the people who are suppose to be your support. And if you wonder “why don’t you quit”…well, probably because we have school loans to pay off as well as a family to provide for and bills to pay just like everyone else.

For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.

The pendulum is swinging.

I’m not angry. I’m just shrugging my shoulders and watching the world self-destruct.


Snews synopsis.

It’s hard to believe with my mind in constant noisy communication that I’m blank when it comes to writing when I’m feeling the mood to do just that. I think, in part, there’s a lot in my head that I don’t want to commit to ‘paper’ ~ esp. cyber-space. We all know what happens when you put something in ‘writing’ and send it ‘out there’: ~ at some future date and time when you’ve forgotten all about it or, worse, now have a completely different perspective on the very subject you previously wrote about, it comes right back at you like a TNT loaded boomerang. So, considering that ~ even in the very remote likelihood that anything I write will be read, taken to heart and come back to blow-up in my face, I try to be transparent with my own ‘musings’ but not divisive or hostile (although that doesn’t REALLY matter to the reader who choses to be offended).

Since I’m blank about writing anything, I’m going to write a synopsis of what I’ve read in the “news” lately.

Trump is still on top in the news about how’s he’s still in on the bottom in popularity except with uneducated white males who feel disenfranchise and want to pummel everyone that isn’t a white male. Apparently, also, he and Megyn Kelly have made some sort of behind-the-curtain “frenemies” deal while appearing antagonistic in public and it all has to do with ‘entertainment’ or her new book release.

The newly elected President Rodrigo Duterte of the Philippines is simultaneously a misogynistic, demagogue who has, while Mayor of Davao for most of two decades, all but eradicated crimes  (including crimes against women) in the city and made it the safest place in the country. Ring any bells?

Adele shamed a vidographer to stop taping at her concert.

Authorities are no closer to knowing (or having a clue) as to who murdered eight members of a family in Ohio.

Family and friends on both sides, Depp and Heard, defend their respective family/friend member.

It seems to be a bad year for hikers: too many lost and dead to count.

The weather has been like a yo-yo (speaking just about my ‘home’ area) from cool and rainy to record high temperatures and humid – and the weather forecasters are wrong more than right. Totally ruined a hiking day for me as I didn’t plan/go out on what was suppose to be a day full of showers and it was the best day of the entire week. Who knows, maybe it was a  silver lining ~ I might have gotten lost.

Daenerys Targaryen very well might turn out to be the biggest villain in the whole (TV version of) GoT.

A couple in Japan kicked their 7 year old out of the car in a remote (wooded) area to teach him a lesson. When they went back a ‘few mintues’ later to get him, he was gone. Apparently he is still missing. I wonder if the parents learned a lesson?

OH…Dori is reportedly going to be a whale of a money-maker AND…apparently the movies features….wait…a lesbian couple! Do you think Ellen had anything to do with that?

Okay…that’s it for today. btw: I work night shift so it’s still 5/30/16…to me.

Small choices


the point or part at which a thing, as a river or a road, divides into branches:
“Bear left at the fork in the road”.

Sometimes I just write…like now. I don’t have any thing to say, nothing noteworthy or important. I saw the Daily Prompt and I thought of the above definition of the word. I have two options: write something pithy and useless or, don’t write at all.



Tunbridge, Vermont

The above photo was taken from Google Images and is the route to my sister & brother-in-law (bil, for short) but, if I had pulled over and taken one myself, it would have surpassed this photo in brilliance and beauty. However, I’m glad I found this one.

I headed early up to Vermont yesterday morning along a winding route between mountain ranges to my sister’s and ‘bils’ house. The purpose was to help do some cleaning or boxing  or whatever they had in mind for me. They bought a house in North Carolina and are in the process of moving. It was a beautiful day; a few white clouds set against a magnificent blue and the newly green mountains of spring winding along the route highlighted by slanted sun-rays and in some places a barely-there, low mist. It was perfection. I had thought to take a photo but had already passed the best opportunities – probably should have turned around and gone back but…

This was the second trip to help, the first was a few weeks ago and it was an emotional one. I thought the whole time, “I won’t be making this trip but a couple more times”, and I’ve always loved the trip to visit them. It’s about an hour and another half from my home but it’s such a peaceful and beautiful state and route that I’ve always just put on some music and enjoyed the ride. I’m going to miss it them.

It’s very weird going ‘home’ when you don’t go that often. All the places you remember as a kid; oogling at a house where a friend lived or a playground and seeing what has changed and what looks the same – except smaller. It’s an ‘older person’s’ thing to do, I think. Younger people ‘go home’ and may notice things but, as an older person myself, I think we feel nostalgic about where we came from. We look at the geographic past and see it in a slanted way…a different perspective.

We’ve always toyed with the idea of me moving back to Vermont, either with or near my sister’s, and spending more leisurely time with her (and ‘bil’, of course) in our growing older years. She’s five years younger and I was out of the house while she was still a teen. I had my family young and then so did she. We lived far enough apart geographically and, emotionally, I guess, that we really didn’t spend a lot of time together. We spent the most time together as family when both of our children were teens and it was fun. There home is secluded and we had bonfires, cookouts, sledding parties, a pool. We just hung out -usually spent the night, long ride and all – and had a good time. Then it kind of dwindled once I had a grandchild; traveling up was ‘too much work’ and I, not only worked but did babysitting when my daughter worked so time was limited.

So, time has passed and it feels so has all the “good times”. I regret now not having made the trip more often but, as I said, we always had plans for the future, unfortunately the future had different plans for us.

Why don’t people just talk anymore?

I’ve been writing lately. A lot. Letter form. To one of my daughters.

I heard an interview on NPR with Anderson Cooper and his mother, Gloria Vanderbilt, about the book they co-authored, that was almost entirely an email dialogue between them about subjects they, in all their lives together, never discussed. The purpose to was to ‘say’ things without censoring and judgment. I liked the interview and decided to read the book, which I finished. I am still surprised by what they had never shared with each other – some subject matter was never even broached – especially considering who they are; family lineage and history. It just showed me that no matter who you are, we are all basically the same.

In the past couple of decades I’ve sporadically attempted to write my history in either letter form or a memoir thinking at some point I’d give it to or leave it to my children. I didn’t stick with it. It just didn’t seem important. But now I think the importance is maybe just for me. Maybe they are not interested in details. Or maybe sometime later or maybe if/when they read the letters they’d be more interested. Either way, if the letters are never read ~ and I will admit, I’d be disappointed ~ I know I’d have at least attempted to ‘have my peace’ (or is it piece?).

I wrote the first letter about a month ago. I let the subject of whether or not it was read just linger. Then I asked my daughter, ‘just curious’, she said she hadn’t read it. Then I waited a couple more weeks and inquired again, ‘no big deal but..’. Again, no. Then I just wrote more (three thinly spaced pages…front and back) and left them near her bed. Waited. Two days later…still ‘no’.

So, okay, maybe she’s not interested (despite the fact that I shared with her the interview, book, the reason that I thought it would be ‘kinda cool’ to share things, all without judgment and she agreed) or she’s afraid of what she thinks I wrote. I don’t know. She’s a big reader so it’s not that she hates reading. She has time to read and watch TV so it’s not that she’s too busy. Since the whole project is a ‘judgment free’ exercise I can’t fault her for not participating. That’s when I decided that I’d keep writing and she can read them or not or give them to her siblings or burn them. I guess I do care but I can’t concern myself with it anymore. I feel it would help her with her problems; she can vent about what bothers her and get some advice and not, strictly speaking, ‘talk’ to me about it.

I guess that’s how it happens. Anderson and Gloria never discussed his brother’s (her son’s) suicide because one wanted to talk but the other did not – so it didn’t happen between them. And that seems so strange to me considering who they are – personalities with big lives who have a lot to share. There are things that I would also have a difficult time speaking about but half the battle with sharing difficult topics is having someone that wants to listen.

I have this disconnect between myself and my children. It seems to widen as I (and they) get older and it’s a little hard to endure. I blame myself for most but not all. I do try to communicate but they seem very disinterested and that makes me feel under-valued. What makes this situation all the more harder is that I don’t have anyone else to share my personal details with (little stuff like work or more intimate stuff too) and I’m not trying to substitute any of my children for a spouse or partner. I just feel more like a distant relative or family ‘friend’ that’s occasionally (barely) tolerated.

Writing (and photocopying, I’ve decided, because I can’t remember what I included in the letter before) the letters is my way of telling them where I came from, why and how I got to be who I am, why I’ve made the decisions and mistakes I have, what I regret and how I feel. I’ll have had my say and it won’t have done one bit of good in my lifetime except to have ‘said it’. It would be sad if she stows the letters somewhere and doesn’t get to them until I’m worm food only to realize that she wished she had read them – and we talked.

You can only do what you can do. The rest is up to someone else.

*note: this was suppose to ‘publish’ on Saturday, 5/14, at 0930 and did not*