At The Pharmacy: But I Don’t Like This Answer, Said She

April 3, 2018 / Ally Bean / 84 Comments

Never ask a question until you are prepared to hear an answer.

That’s basic communication theory and common sense, I do believe.

Lawyers know this. Teachers know this. Police detectives know this.

Bloggers come to know this, usually the hard way.

Ask a question you assume you know the answer to: “Don’t you agree that Muskrat Love is the worst song ever?” You may think that everyone will say: “Yes!” But I’ll guarantee you that someone in the comments will say “No” and then explain why it’s their favorite song of all time.

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Anyhoo, getting to the point of this post, I found myself laughing at myself because I asked a question to which I was not prepared to hear the answer.

OH. NO. I. WASN’T.

You see, I was at the pharmacy picking up my prescription. It was the first time this year that I had it refilled.

The worried look on the pharmacy tech’s face probably should have warned me, but when she said: “oh, your prescription has gone up in price” I instantly said: “how much?”

Trust me when I say I was not prepared to hear the answer to my question. An answer that was: “oh, 200%– or a little more.”

HUH?

I didn’t throw a hissy fit, nor did I get upset with this pharmacy tech, she’s just the messenger of bad news. I went ahead and bought this medicine that technically I could live without; I need the script to see straight in a comfortable way, not in a life or death way.

But I will say that I was shocked by the answer to my question, and kind of startled into remembering that no matter where you go, or what you do, the answer to your question may not make you happy.

COMMON SENSE, RE-LEARNED.

Sunday Afternoon At The Nature Preserve: The Uneven Path Taken

March 13, 2018July 1, 2025 / Ally Bean / 59 Comments

On Sunday, for the first time in months, Zen-Den and I went to the Nature Preserve intending to wander around the flat easy path that connects the herb garden to the old farmhouse.

‘Tis a pretty path any time of year, and knowing what I was getting into, I wore shoes for that kind of leisurely walk. A stroll.

However, somehow [let’s blame it on curiosity], we got [shall we say?] off course and ended up on a moderately difficult path that took us half a mile down a steep hillside to a creek, along the banks of the creek, then back up to the parking lot.

From this experience, I learned three valuable lessons:

I will always in the future, regardless of what we say we’re going to do, wear hiking boots when going to the Nature Preserve;
I will always in the future take one of the free maps, readily available in a display in the parking lot; &
When descending uneven, seemingly never-ending limestone steps down a hillside, my mind thinks about the worst that can happen. In this case, it flashed to the scene in Grace and Frankie [Season 4] when we get a glimpse of Grace’s icky knee, complete with stitches and a long bloody-ish incision, after knee replacement surgery. Oy vey.

And on that angst-filled note, here are some photos of the path we took at the Nature Preserve as we walked, trudged, and then climbed our way around it.

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Oh so pretty in late winter! Must see more.

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What a charming little path. I wonder where it goes?

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My goodness, this path suddenly looks old and not tended.

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Well, at least that little stone bridge up ahead looks sturdy.

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Oh look! What a nice flat rustic wooden bridge over a little dry creek.

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Oh dear, this uneven path just keeps going down, down, down to a large creek.

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Finally! What a lovely, relatively flat, stoney path by a large creek.

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Yes! Look at these civilized wooden stairs leading back up the hill to the parking lot. Hallelujah!

THE END

A Conversation: Blue Is My Color, But I’m Not Blue

February 20, 2018May 6, 2021 / Ally Bean / 81 Comments

🔹 🔹 🔹 🦋 🔹 🔹 🔹

Oh dear, I got myself into a confusing conversation about, of all things, my mental health.

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Which is fine. I’m a bit cynical + anxious, but considering Cadet Bone Spurs is our so-called president, who isn’t?

Anyhoo, I was at the doc’s office having my quarterly micropeel with an aesthetician I’ve seen once before. She had with her a new-to-this-practice aesthetician-in-training. Both women, in their 40s, had worked in medical practices for decades.

I was wearing a cornflower blue cardigan sweater because: 1) I’ve worn shades of blue since I can remember; & 2) as a graying blonde this particular shade of blue is flattering on me, if I do say so myself.

I walked into the procedure room and the aesthetician-in-training mentioned that I look good in blue. To which I said: “Thank you, blue is the color of my life.”

Because it is. If I’m not wearing blue, I’m probably wearing teal. Another color of my life.

But not part of this story.

🔹 🦋 🔹

Now as I’m standing there in the procedure room, there’s a pause while both women look at me, troubled, concerned– ready to help.

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They start saying, alternately: “Oh, I’m so sorry.” “I know this time of year can be difficult when you’re dealing with depression.” “How are you doing today?” “You can talk to us… we understand.”

They had tears in their eyes.

Yet there I was, about as emotionally balanced as I ever am, suddenly aware of what they thought I’d said, trying to explain to them that I meant BLUE the color– not blue, a reference to depression.

But do you have any idea how difficult it is to dissuade someone that you aren’t depressed when they’ve misinterpreted what you said, thinking that you’ve felt comfortable enough with them to share your pain?

Anything I said sounded like I was in denial, trying to back-pedal about a mental health problem. While in fact I was trying to explain to them that as a rosacea-challenged fading summer blonde, blue is a pretty color for me to wear.

Blue with green undertones. Blue with purple undertones.

Just plain blue.

Light blue. Medium blue. Dark blue.

BLUE. ME. WEAR. OFTEN.

It took some doing on my part but I think that I convinced them in a polite way that my mental health was fine, and that while I appreciated their concern, I was being literal about the color blue.

That really, I’ve not been sad or depressed my whole life.

🔹 🦋 🔹

But honestly… talk about a weirdly awkward situation to be in. One that only I could get myself into, I suspect.

🔹 🔹 🔹 🦋 🔹 🔹 🔹

Musings On Inherited Stuff And The Right Details

January 25, 2018August 5, 2020 / Ally Bean / 81 Comments

My new mantra.

One that I’ve chanted as I sort through the basement. Where there is so much stuff, household stuff, just sitting there.

Stuff that I didn’t have the emotional strength and/or design perspective to deal with until now.

Stuff inherited.

Stuff saved.

Just. In. Case.

But *news flash* there is no case. There is no reason for me to keep this stuff anymore.

The details are wrong. Not my details.

Grateful that relatives loved me enough to trust me with these details.

Aware of how it came to be that I felt the need keep the wrong details for so long.

But now, slowly, I’m letting go of the stuff.

My head and my heart agree that this stuff, these details that are wrong for me, need to move on to happy homes where they’ll be the right details for someone else.

A decision that’s been a long time in the coming.