neyronrose (neyronrose) wrote,

Tuesday real life

I went to the local Congressperson's office today.  We had sent in the application for a handicapped placard for the car very shortly after I broke my ankle, and it took a good six weeks for them to send the placard.  It was fortunate for me that Mom already had a handicapped parking placard.  We wanted to get the renewal faster this time, and a nurse said the Congressman could help with that.  I figured out what set of adjoining buildings his office was in, and decided to go into the building closest to the parking lot, the one with a handicapped-accessible ramp.  The receptionist/secretary there told me that the Congressman's office was around the back of the buildings, down a flight of stairs.

I was glad I'd put on my walking cast, because to get to the office, you go over a footbridge that is over a stream, up a flight of stairs, down a flight of stairs, down another flight of stairs, down two more stairs from that landing, and down two stairs from the door of the office to the office itself.  The receptionist/secretary/administrative assistant (?) there watched me hobble down the stairs into the office, balancing on my cane and holding onto the wall, as there was no railing.  Clearly only able-bodied people are supposed to be able to make it into the office.  I would have thought the office would be more accessible, as there are a large proportion of senior citizens in the district, and most of them probably voted for him.

I went up to the closest desk, and took out my application, and the close-to-expiring temporary handicapped placard.  "I need to get a renewal of a handicapped placard," I said.  The astonishment on the admin person's face was swept away as it all became clear.  "I heard that you could help with the process?  It took six weeks when we mailed it in, and this one expires at the end of November."

She looked it over, and determined that the reason number for the placard, as the doctor had noted, was an orthopedic issue.  (It's among the reasons listed in reason #8.)  We couldn't find the length of the time he put on the form for a while.  I knew it wouldn't be a permanent placard.  "Even a couple of months would help."  She said she knew the doctor, and could call him.  His office is about a block down the road.  Then we saw that he'd put that it was for six months.

"We can get it processed for you within a week to ten days, and the placard will probably be mailed to you the last week in November."  I marveled inside at the power Congress has over even the Pennsylvania DMV.  I thanked the lady, she made a copy of the form for me, and I did my little stair-climbing adventure back out to the parking lot.

I ran a couple more errands on my way back, and toyed with stopping at Home Depot, but decided that if I went there, I'd get plants, and I'm still trying to find spaces for the ones we have.  I got home, caught up on phone calls, and headed back out again.  On this round of errands, I stopped at the liquor store.  Pennsylvania still has state stores, but they're open until 9:00 p.m. during the week now around here, and even open on Sundays now.  I think it was only a couple of years ago that they started being open on Sundays.

Mom had requested white zinfandel.  I got a bottle of Chenin Blanc, a sweet white wine that I like.  I looked at the mudslides, but the Friday's one only came in an enormous bottle.  I asked if they had smaller bottles.  The expert on what they had and where all things were said that they used to have smaller bottles.  I kept the larger bottle in mind for when somebody has a party.

Meanwhile, I looked around at the mixes, and then at the flavored liquors.  I found a bottle of French Vanilla Kahlua, and decided to try that.  That was the end of the shopping trip.  I'd been wanting to get another bottle of Chenin Blanc since we finished the last bottle -- in July or early August, I think.  It would have lasted a couple more months, but Mom was drinking it, too.  I took my purchases home, and tried a little of the French Vanilla Kahlua with cream.  It is yummy.  I lost the receipt, but Mom owes me five or six dollars for the bottle of white zinfandel.  It was on sale.

I think between the two bottles of Kahlua, it should be enough to last me well over a year, maybe two years.  It depends if Mom starts drinking it, too.  She had some of the regular kind the other day.  If she drinks more than half a bottle of either one, she can buy me a new one.  Usually she just drinks a glass of sherry a night, and occasionally a glass of wine.  Every so often she likes to branch out.

We still have bottles of liquor we inherited when my grandmother, Mom's mother, passed away.  They must be twenty or thirty years old, possibly older.  I think we have twenty- or thirty-year-old bottles of liquor in one of the pantry closets, too, from when the parental units used to entertain.  I'm not talking about how long the liquor was aged, but how long it's lived in the pantry.

It's funny how I went from talking about government to talking about alcohol.  Well, at least my trip to the Congressman's office was a productive visit.

Tags: rambling, shopping

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