I'll Call It Like I See It

by sheila morris

Category: Personal

  • we must never come to this store again

    we must never come to this store again


    Once upon a time somewhere along the supply chain for my bupropion med which I have taken for years to treat free-floating anxiety (that turned into specific anxiety during the Agent Orange previous administration in the USA), well, this med was exchanged for a kind of wellbutrin commonly prescribed to assist tobacco addicts in their war against nicotine. Fun fact: I have never used tobacco in any form with the exception of a few puffs of marijuana here and there. More there than here actually plus I rarely inhaled.

    Last week when Pretty dropped by the pharmacy to pick up a couple of meds for me, the pharmacist in charge said she couldn’t release one of them until she spoke with me via the phone. This of course irritated Pretty who had vowed several times to never darken the door of this particular establishment because of obstacles to what should be a simple action. I prepaid online and was notified the meds were ready for pickup so I assured Pretty when she got out of the grannymobile this would be quick, simple, fast, easy. Said with a smile and thumbs up gesture.

    Not so fast, my friend. Pretty returned to our car without the meds. Her facial expression when she opened the driver’s side door told me who sat between our two granddaughters that were in their car seats in the middle row of seats that Pretty was not happy. She proceeded to let us all know just how unhappy she was with the pharmacy; this was absolutely the last time she would be trying to deal with my meds. Why couldn’t I answer my cell phone when the pharmacist called me just a few minutes before? Because my cell phone was on the floorboard of the passenger side of the front seats and I was sitting in the second row between our two granddaughters to make sure they weren’t kidnapped while she went to the store for me. Not good enough. Pretty continued her rage, rage against the dying of the light or the ridiculous rules of the pharmacy. Take your pick.

    At this point our recently turned three year old Ella joined in Pretty’s harangue to say in her most authoritative voice, “Teresa, we must never come to this store again. I am never getting anything in there. Let’s leave now and go to the playground.”

    Pretty and I looked at each other and burst out laughing. LOL, as the current saying goes. Pretty was Nana to Ella in the everyday vicissitudes of life, but lately when she really wanted to have an impact on the conversation, Ella addressed her as Teresa – which was fine with us since that was her name.

    What did we do then? What could we do? Pretty drove out of the parking lot and took us to the playground. It was a beautiful day to be outdoors, and the perfect weather continued for Ella’s birthday party this past weekend.

    Lost in thought, overwhelmed by Birthday Party Number Three –

    (Thankfully pharmacy incident two days before forgotten)

    Pony rides, hay ride, balloons –

    everyone was here to celebrate with me

    Wow!

    Turning Three is HUGE – thank goodness for friends!

    Nana holding baby sister Molly –

    Gigi points to another birthday in January

    I have no words to express the happiness these little girls have brought to Pretty and me these last three years. The old adage time flies when you’re having fun must have been spoken first by a grandmother who suddenly realized her grandchild was three years old having a party with her friends and family, having conversations on her own, occasionally eating a Cheeto which her mother had thoughtfully provided for everyone since it was Ella’s favorite food group.

    Bless these precious girls, bless all the little children of the world, bless the parents who love and care for them, bless everyone in their lives who offer encouragement and hope for their future happiness.

    Slava Ukraini. For the children.

    *************

    P.S. I did call the pharmacist who asked me how my anxiety was doing these days since I’d been taking the wrong meds for the past six months. My anxiety is in direct proportion to my worry about my country’s mid-term elections in November, the state of our democracy, the war in Ukraine and a recurrence of Covid. Other than that, I have none. I still don’t smoke, I added. I picked up my meds the next day.

  • yesterday and today juxtaposed

    yesterday and today juxtaposed


    One of my favorite quotes as a septuagenarian is “we must have old memories and young hopes.” Catchy, right? Sigh.

    I have a revision. Check it out: we must have new memories and reclaim old hopes.

    Yesterday’s new memories with Pretty and our granddaughters

    at a favorite playground

    Today’s old hopes reclaimed on signs

    in our front yard

    I should have saved my signs from 50 years ago. All women – including our granddaughters – must have the right to control their own bodies. Period. End of discussion.

    Make your plan to VOTE on November 08th.

    ***********

    Stay safe, stay sane and please stay tuned.

  • Rooted and Winged – poems by Luanne Castle

    Rooted and Winged – poems by Luanne Castle


    Unbelievably Pretty and I didn’t lose power during the winds and rain of Hurricane Ian as it passed through our neighborhood two days ago. I held my breath and feared the worst: I wouldn’t be able to finish the Sidney Poitier documentary on Apple TV+ or watch A Raisin in the Sun afterwards. I needn’t have fretted about the telly, though.

    During a rain recess I walked to the mailbox and was pleasantly surprised to find a copy of Rooted and Winged, poems by Luanne Castle, stuck among the host of political asks for financial support which are routine with the mid-term elections looming. Luanne is a blogging friend who shares my interest in personal history mixed with current cats, a love of family, a truth seeker and teller. Hooray, I thought to myself as I put the book down on my chair and returned to Sidney on the still functioning Apple TV+. Regardless of wind and rain, I had a book to read by candlelight. No need for candlelight – my lamp bulbs performed their duties without interruption.

    As the title suggests, this latest collection of poems by award winning poet Luanne Castle vividly portrays her recollections of the people and places that grounded her for life as well as the later forces which led her to observe nature with more than casual acquaintance, confront change in a world spinning out of control, and ultimately gave her wings to the voice she now uses to simultaneously sound alarm while offering comfort.

    Here are excerpts from two poems I found unforgettable.

    Why We Wait for Rain

    We wait for hours watching the dark unfurling

    toward us, unsure

    if it will land here at all

    whether it carries thunderstorm or haboob

    It smells like rain

    bittersweet cocktail of sandstone & blossoms

    still damp and quickening in the air

    over ten thousand years…

    And then this wonderful fantasy When I’m in Charge

    Someday you will realize it was me

    and know what you’ve lost.

    When the cancer cure is announced,

    I will be the anonymous healer.

    I will defeat A.I. before it takes over

    our world, outwit the hackers,

    the scammers and spammers…

    We’re all safe in the future because

    of what I’ve done, outlawing grief

    and its wily predecessor love.

    This book as well as her earlier work is available through Amazon and Luanne’s https://www.luannecastle.com/bookstore.

    Even if you believe you’ve never liked poetry, I encourage you to have a go at this collection. I guarantee you’ll surprise yourself by the emotions the images evoke even as your mind takes flight.

    ***********

    Stay safe, stay sane, and please stay tuned.

  • Carport Kitty and the hurricane

    Carport Kitty and the hurricane


    Carport Kitty settled on a mat at the bottom of our kitchen steps to weather the disastrous Hurricane Ian this week – our home in West Columbia, South Carolina was spared the devastation our neighbors in the low country of the state experienced for the past two days – we are two hours inland from Charleston. We realize we dodged a dangerous bullet by a few twists and turns on the large weather map that showed the destinations Ian reached; for that Pretty and I are immensely grateful.

    This morning CPK shared her space with ?

    Bully Cat who gave me a stare

    The costs of catastrophic weather events like Hurricane Ian are immeasurable today in the losses of lives and property, these costs will linger in the memories of so many people for all their tomorrows. To anyone who struggles to rebuild and restore their dreams for themselves and their children, whether from a blow from nature or a blow from another personal loss or disappointment, I hope you will find your own mat to weather the storm like Carport Kitty did. Maybe you can even comfort someone else.

    ***************

    Stay safe, stay sane and please stay tuned.

  • what’s scarier? Halloween or the MID-TERMS?

    what’s scarier? Halloween or the MID-TERMS?


    Do you have our Boo at the Zoo tickets yet? Pretty called to me from her chair in the den last night while I struggled to catch up on a sea of emails in my office.This past weekend was Laver Cup tennis, one of my favorite tennis events of the year, but the 2022 tournament was in London which meant I was glued to the Telly on British Summer Time for three days with no opportunity for the 3Rs: reading emails, reading blogs and reading bills.

    Boo at the Zoo tickets? I called back to Pretty. It’s not even October, I thought to myself, but I obediently went to the Riverbanks Zoo website to find out about tickets. Last year was our first ever Boo experience because, you guessed it (a) Covid restrictions were lifted for the annual Halloween at the Zoo extravaganza and (b) we had a two year old granddaughter.

    Ella fell in love with her first real Halloween in 2021,

    eyes full of wonder at friendly ghost as we entered

    Boo at the Zoo

    The dates for Boo are October 20th. – 30th., I told Pretty when she walked into my office to make sure I was following up. Luckily, I continued, there are 2,900+ tickets available every night.

    Well, Pretty said, I’d better text Caroline (a/k/a Pretty Too, mother of Ella) to get our date on the calendar right away.

    Exactly, I answered. Game on. Pretty returned to her iPhone in the den.

    ***********

    September flew by this year – such an emotional one with the retirement of Serena Williams the first week of the US Open followed by this past weekend’s farewell to another living legend of the game: Roger Federer. Woe is me, I am undone. I feel like I’ve lost two best friends within a month; I’m feeling sad and angry, as Ella says when she fusses at me for one of my thoughtless outbursts in her direction. The word No should never be in anyone’s vocabulary.

    I’m angry with Time and Tide which wait for no man, according to an ancient proverb, and we can add they seem to speed up for tennis players over the age of 40. If only I could put Time in that bottle Jim Croce sang about…

    However, I will enjoy five more days in September, the first days of autumn, thirty-one days of Halloween excitement with soon to be three year old granddaughter Ella and her eight months old baby sister Molly, trying to avoid the angst of the looming general election on November 8th.

    Stay safe from all hurricanes, stay sane and please stay tuned.