Tuesday, November 11, 2008
The title of this post is the link for Mormon Controlled Businesses. Why do they have tax exempt status? Just asking. I found this remarkable link at the lovely Franiam's place. Thanks Fran. I'm like a thief in the night.
Posted by Utah Savage at 11:39 PM
Labels: Mormons meddling with money in California 's battle to take civil rights away from gay couples.
I'm bipolar. Have I said that before? I think so. Probably a bit too often, actually. This is the danger time of year for me to have bipolar episodes. And forcing myself to interact out in the public in a time when I'm already pissed off that the day is gone in so few hours is almost more than I can bear. The actual onset of winter depresses me, and all I really want to do is lie in bed, but stuff needs doing. Not cookie making--I like cookie making. But in this particular point in the season, I grow melancholy. And in the transition from feeling fine to melancholy is a minefield of emotion like sparks and loud noises and lots of other irritable people, forced by the season to spend money they don't have. Property Taxes are due. Thanksgiving is almost here. Then Xmas. Sorry. That's how I feel about the holidays.
I forced myself today to maintain an inner calm and to be as kind to my fellow prisoners as possible. I went out of my way to help an old women (even older than I) find Rebocks at the department store that's going out of business. Then I helped her find someone to ring them up for her. The young woman who rung them up for her was sporting a spectacular display of ink on her neck. I complimented her on the beauty of this body art. And she told me her family owns a tattoo parlor in New Jersey. She proudly told me that she too was a tatoo artist, and showed me the canvas of her arm. A line of impatient shoe buyers formed behind us, so I thanked her and moved on. But I'd have loved to hear her story.
Off to the bra department relatively cheerful. That didn't last long. The cheerful part. Oh I remained kind to my fellow prisoners, but I hate the bra shopping experience and am always shocked by the cost.
Then up to bed linens and another pleasant interaction with a women looking for a particular sized and colored top sheet. Easily accomplished, I found what I wanted and went to the check out desk.
On the way out the door, an alarm goes off and a loud voice comes on the speakers telling me to go to the nearest check stand. It took me forever to find someone to tell me what needed clearing so I could leave this part of the prison that is the entire outside world to me. Life is hell. I don't know how you do it. You have nothing but my respect and admiration.
Then it was off to Big Lots! You can imagine how that went. At this point I was not the only cranky shopper. Lets have a round of scowls now. I did not find what I was looking for, but managed to spend near $100 anyway. Now this is a really bad sign. Spending money you don't have on shopping sprees is one in the constellation of symptoms that makes up the disorder called bipolar. Shopping with abandon is a symptom I can't afford. It's often the thing that brings a person with bipolar disorder to financial ruin and causes great stress and strain on families.
The last straw was the grocery store. Yes, I have what I need to bake cookies, and will do so with love in my heart, but I'll spend the rest of tonight recovering from the tantrums that went off all over the store. Not me, oh no I kept my cool, but children of all ages were having fits and their parents were having meltdowns and it was a bad time all round until I got the check stand. And I was able to do one last good deed for the day. I let the alcoholic lady with the cart full of Junior Mints go before me. She said, "Are you sure?" And I nearly got a contact hangover. But I smiled sweetly, I swear, and said, "It's okay, I'm not in a hurry."
And since I got home a couple of hours ago I've had three visitors. So I haven't had my news fix or my cup of tea. I haven't even unpacked my shopping bags. So for now, the doors locked, I'm not answering the phone and I'm resting.
I have been up early finishing some bill paying, a bit of cleaning and list making. I'm getting ready to make my once (I hope) weekly trip to the stores. One of the few department stores I shop at (mostly due to it's close proximity to home) is going out of business--it's a sign of the times. They are one of the few places that sell bedding where you can buy single sheets rather than sets. They're having a sale, and it will be a long damn time before I buy more sheets, so before they close their doors, I will buy one top sheet, two king sized pillow cases, a new bra, some undies, and some winter boots.
While I'm in Sugar House, the location for this particular shopping trip, I'll go to Big Lots, to buy some cookie tins for mailing cookies to Phillip. (Since I have become your cookie making, care-package sending friend, you might want to tone down the snark a tad dear.)
And my last stop, out in the world today will be the grocery store to buy chocolate chips, more flour, more butter, and more organic vanilla for your cookie loving pleasure. Are you listening dear? I'll also try to find a box I don't have to buy to pack this care-package up for shipping.
Once home from this adventure, I'll spend what's left of the day baking cookies and getting Phillip's cookies tinned and packed and taken to Kinkos where they have a Fed Ex center for shipping these cookies to Phillip. So next time you have something harsh to say to me, please remember who bakes your cookies.