One Word: Kmart ~ by Heather Oster

I live in a relatively small town where the shopping is not so great.  Your choice, beyond the very expensive and independently owned stores, is Kmart.  Trust me, I'm trying to contain my excitement just as much as you are. 

Usually, if I need anything specific, I have to drive 41 miles (one way) to Missoula where there are a slew of outlet stores, a mall, Walmart, etc.  Unfortunately, I don't always (in fact rarely) have time to make the trip.  Which means, I'm forced to shop at Kmart, where the insanity is endless and the products you are looking for, are absent from the shelves.

Recently, I had to run down there to look for a Bridal Shower gift.  I had not had the time to go to Missoula, so was left with our local Kmart.  I ran inside and looked at an assortment of things when I came to their dish set aisle and display.  I looked at a few of them that were in the display and saw they were priced at $65.99.  Too expensive for a shower gift (in my book).  However, the bottom two shelves of the display had dish sets with a sticker price of $35.99.  This caught my attention.  As I was scanning the available designs, I came across this set that had the exact design the bride had printed on her invitations.  I thought, "Perfect!  She will love this."  I double-checked the price, before I grabbed the box, and it said $35.99. 

As usual, I was in a hurry and running out of time, so I went to the shortest line I could find at the checkout counters.  I now know it was short for a reason.  The checker was an old (I don't mean to offend anyone, but she was elderly) woman and she was checking out a man (about her age) who only had a greeting card.  She asked him about his "Rewards Card" and what his email address was, as she had to enter it into the system.  Let me just say they both, desperately, needed hearing aids.  "D"?  No, "B".  "M"?  No, "N".  "P"?  No, "T", and so on and so forth.  It was painful to watch these two try to communicate with each other.  Finally, the customer had to write it out for the checker and she entered it one finger, one letter, one full breath at a time. 

Tick, tock, tick, tock goes the clock people.  Tap, tap, tap with my finger.

Finally, and I mean finally, she gets this man his $2.49 card and sends him on his way.  My turn.  She scans everything and reads my total.  I looked at the receipt list on the computer screen and told her the price of the dishes was wrong.  They weren't $65.99.  They were $35.99.  She said, "Well, I am going to have to do a price check."  I thought, God help me.  I do not have time for this.  I smiled through gritted teeth, sighed and said, "okay".

She walks over to their intercom system and calls for a price check. Five minutes go by, no answer.  She calls again and to my surprise someone answers.  She tells them to do a price check on this dish set and gives them all the information.  Five more minutes go by and here comes the price check person to personally look at the dish set.  Then he leaves.  Five more minutes and the intercom phone rings.  She answers and then comes over and tells me that the dishes next to the ones I picked out were $35.99.  The ones I had picked were $65.99.  I told her I didn't want them then and she needed to take them off my order.  This left me with the following items: a card, a ribbon and some wrapping paper.

I have now been in the checkout line for nearly twenty minutes.  People who entered the store when I entered the checkout line were already leaving the parking lot in their cars.

Deep breath.

She took off the dishes and gave me my total for those three items.  I paid her and when I went to leave, she handed me a bag.  I looked at the bag and just shook my head in disbelief and annoyance.  She put my stuff in somebody elses bag!  I thought to myself, "I know its been like 15 minutes since you rang my three items through, but has it really been that long that you think I bought two shirts and some panties?"  I interrupted her service with the next exasperated customer and said, "This is not my bag."  She said, "It isn't?"  I said, "No!  This isn't my stuff.  You put my stuff in somebody else's bag. I didn't buy this stuff."  "Oh, I guess I did.  I wonder where it came from?"  I thought, "Well, how the heck would I know?"  I grabbed MY bag, kept my mouth closed (tightly) and ran straight into the automatic door that didn't open fast enough.  Nice, I thought.  Their door functions just like their customer service.

As soon as I got to my car, I commenced counting to ten and did some breathing exercises, as I do every time I leave Kmart.  You know, it just isn't fair that I have to literally lose minutes of my life due to the stressful shopping experience I inevitably endure every time I go there. 

I seriously cannot stand this store and neither can anyone else I talk to.  It is, by far, the most frustrating store around; and the thing is, is that I know they could do so much better.  But, why try if you don't have to, right?  Its still money in their pockets no matter how flustered we, the customers, get and how horrible your service is.

The Birth Story of Red ~ by Heather Oster

On April 23rd, 2001, I came home from the hospital spitting mad.  This baby was not wanting to come out and play and my Dr. wanted to give me one more day to go into labor on my own.  Here I was, ready to have this baby, and they sent me home!!!  Grrrrrr.  I was not a very happy full-term prego lady.  Not in the least.

Their optimism was disproved and I ended up back at the hospital the next morning (4/24/01) to be induced (I, of course, could have told them that the day before - hahaha).  I got all checked in at 7:45 a.m.  Pill No. 1 was administered at 8:00.  Nothing happened.  Pill No. 2 was administered at around 10:30 and I was sent walking.  Around and around and around the hospital I went.  I remember because it was a beautiful day.  Warm, not a cloud in the sky, a perfect Spring day.  After a good amount of time, I returned to my bed.  Again, nothing.  This should have been a fairly good indication my child was going to be a red-head.  As stubborn as the day is long.  My Dr. told me they would only administer one more pill and if that didn't work, I'd be going home.  Joy, joy.

Two o'clock rolled around and she administered pill No. 3.  In the process, she "accidentally" broke my water and let me tell you, I've never had to breathe like that in my life.  That was all it took.  I went from no dialation to complete dialation in 1 hr and 15 min.  I couldn't breathe the contractions were so fast and hard.  I had this nurse, that was like 102 yrs old, and she was having quite the time trying to get the oxygen hoses un-wound and plugged in.  My Dr. finally grabbed everything from her and told her to get out, she'd do it herself.  They finally got me all hooked up to the oxygen and the birthing process commenced.  *Note: I went into labor so fast, there was no time for pain medication.  I was going all natural.  It was a good thing I couldn't breathe because I likely would have had some things to say about that.  But, alas, I had a mask over my face and it was chore enough not to pass out, let alone argue.  Lucky for them!

At 3:27 p.m., it was over and I layed eyes on my big (8 lbs, 21 1/2 in.) baby boy, sporting his beautiful red hair.  He was mad as a hornet too.  I suppose it was about as much fun for him as it was me, so I can see his lack of amusement with the whole situation.  But it was wonderful to hear that cry and count his toes and fingers.

And that, is how my precious Red entered the world, 10 yrs ago.  Stubborn as a mule, but beautiful as could be.  How blessed I am to have such a man in my life.  I thank the Lord for my son and can't imagine life without him.

Our First Date ~ by Heather Oster

Part One

I've been married to my husband for several years now and have enjoyed getting to know him better, growing with him and loving him more everyday.  I count myself blessed to be married to such a rock star.  Yes, I'm the comic of the two of us.  He's fairly quiet and a thinker.  While I now understand these are the traits that help define the wonderful man he is, I did not know that our first, and almost only date.

Being a single mom, and at the age I was, I figured it was over.  I was going to live in that trailer, working for the County Attorney's office for the rest of my life.  While those circumstances weren't exactly what I dreamt of as a little girl, it was life, my life.  My son was my world, my focus and my reason for getting up everyday.  We were a team.  I knew one day he'd leave, but oh how I would cherish him while I had him.  My precious little red head (same one who stuck the rock in his nose - HA!) 

Then, one late August afternoon, everything changed . . . forever.

The whole scene is frozen, in time, in my mind. 

I was standing outside the County Courthouse (just getting off work), on the corner of 2nd Street and Madison.  I was wearing a black knit, sleeveless sweater with khaki slacks and brown sandals.  The sun was shining through the trees casting much wanted shade on the ground and there was a slight breeze in the air.  It was going to be a perfect summer evening. 

Standing in front of me was Sgt. Ryan Oster of the Hamilton City Police Department.  He was dressed in full uniform wearing his trademark black sunglasses.  While, literally, rolling a rock around the ground with his work boot, and his hands in his pockets, he asked me if I'd like to get a cup of coffee sometime or go out to dinner.  He mentioned his birthday was on Saturday and said if I wanted to have dinner with him then, that would be nice.  He didn't have anything else to do that day.  Of course, I'm not going to miss celebrating someones birthday!!!  Even if I don't know them. 

Me, being the "spunky" one of the two of us, missed the cue to have compassion on this poor guy, as he was obviously nervous beyond belief, and I responded loudly and with gusto, "Why, Sgt. Oster!  Are you asking me out on a date?"  Now, not only is he uncomfortable, but beet red.  Oops - My bad.

What can I say?  I was SO excited!!  This was perfect.  A date.  With a reputably "extremely nice guy."  I was on cloud nine. 

Fast forward 3 days to Saturday, August 16th.

I am telling you I primped, curled and checked the mirror more than I ever have in my life.  I had to be perfect.  I picked out a yellow sleeveless cotton shirt, an off-white pair of shorts with those same sandals (they were my favorite and gave me an additional 3 inches).  My hair was down (very long) and slightly curled and I had full on makeup.  This is big because I normally don't wear any makeup.  I made sure every last detail of me was flawless, right down to my painted toe nails (which I don't do either). 

There was a knock at the door - right on time.  I walked over, made sure my shorts weren't all wrinkled up and my shirt was nice and neat.  Flipped my hair back, took a deep breath and opened the door with the smile I'd practiced in the mirror for the previous hour. 

There he stood, with his hands in his pockets, again.  He was wearing khaki slacks, with a dark brown belt, brown shoes and a dark blue polo shirt.  It was then that I noticed the same thing I'd noticed when he asked me out, but didn't pay it much attention. 

Hummm, that's odd, I thought.  Little did I know just how "odd" this entire evening was going to be.

Part Two

Staring at the floor and refusing to look at me, he said softly, "Are you ready to go?"  I said, "Yep!"  Off we went.  Got in his truck to headed to "The Rocky Knob", a good 45 minute drive from Hamilton.  On the way there, I was trying to get the conversation going and I was not having much luck.  Question upon question I was asking to only receive either one word or one sentence responses.  I was picking up the vibe that he wanted to be anywhere else but in this truck, with me, on our way to dinner.  It was a long ride and my fears of it being an even longer ride home would be confirmed shortly.

Finally, we got to the restaurant and went in.  We were seated at a table that was the first thing you saw when you entered the place.  This was fine with me, I didn't mind.  But, every person that walked through the door, Ryan knew and with each hello he seemed to shrink more and more into his chair.  I continued to try to get to know him by asking questions and was reaching the "bottom of the barrel" for things to talk about.  But was still receiving little response and no eye contact whatsoever.  Out of desperation, I finally said, "What's your middle name?"  Yes, this is how bad it was.  I was out.  Out of ideas, out of questions and almost out of a desire to even try.  To this, he responded, "I think its a little too soon for that sort of information." 

Really!  No way!!  Here I am, stuck just as much as he is, and wanting nothing more than to run for the door and hitch hike home.  It was then that I decided I wasn't talking anymore.  I would just take this as a free meal, a night out of the house and continue on with my life.  I was done. 

The rest of dinner was filled to the brim with uncomfortable silence.  Just the sound of chewing and the occasional "Hi" to whoever it was that walked in.  We left there and he drove up to Painted Rocks, as a side trip, before we headed home.  He asked a few questions here and there, but not enough to fill the huge void in time before I was in my own environment.  Needless to say, I was back home by 8:00 p.m..  It was the shortest and quietest date I'd ever had in my life.

He parked in front of my trailer and said nothing.  Just sat there in that uncomfortable silence we'd endured all night.  Before I got out, I handed him a birthday card I had picked up.  Inside I had previously put a coupon in labeled "good for a movie and popcorn, on me".  I didn't feel right about giving it to him because I knew this did not go well, but I wanted to be nice enough to give him a birthday card.  So, I handed it over, told him ahead of time that the coupon was in there but it was fine if he didn't use it.  I would understand and then I made a bee-line for my front door. 

I turned around when I got to the door and he was right on my tail with card in hand.  I walked in my house anyway and turned around.  He sighed and said, "I just don't know if I'm ready for all of this.  I . . ."  I interrupted him because I don't need an explanation as to what I did wrong or why this didn't go well.  I am good with, it didn't go well, good luck and God's speed.  So, I said with the best smile I could muster, "It's fine.  Thank you for the dinner.  Good night." and closed my door. 

On Monday, I went back to work and was standing at the copy machine trying to stay busy so no one would ask how the date was.  Lucky for me, he'd asked me out on a Thursday, so I had all day Friday to be all giddy over it and run my mouth.  I so hate my optimism sometimes.  I turned to head back to my desk and here comes my best friend, who said with the biggest of smiles, "Soooo, how did it go?!"  I flashed her a quick look of defeat and said, "Don't ask."  She said, "Ohhh, that bad?"  I said, "You don't want to know.  I was home by 8.  Let's put it that way." 

Talk about getting your ballooned popped.  I was so excited for this "first date" that I'd been waiting for and thought would never happen.  And now, not only had it completely sucked, but I had to tell everyone else it completely sucked.  How humbling.  How disappointing.  How I should go buy a 1/2 gallon of ice cream, watch some sappy chick-flick and eat to my hearts content! 

Monday came and went, as did Tuesday and Wednesday.  Then, Thursday night, my phone rings.  I looked at the number and thought, I know this number.  I wonder who it is.  So, I picked it up and said, "Hello?"  I'll give you one guess as to who said "Hello" back.  My heart stopped and I think every last bit of blood drained from my face.

Part Three

I asked how he was, he said fine.  Again, a one word answer.  I decided right then and there I was not going to say anything further.  I was cordial, just not going to drag stuff out of him like the other night.  After few moments of silence, he said, "I was wondering what you are doing on Saturday."  I couldn't believe my ears.  After our first and last date, he was going to ask me out again?  What is up with that? 

Well, I didn't have anything going on (besides my usual Saturday cleaning routine - and who wants to do that if you can get out of it), so I told him I was free.  He said he'd pick me up at 8:30 a.m. and we would go pick Sapphires.  I said that sounded fine, although I had no idea what it entailed as I'd never done it before.  Sure enough, he was there right on time - 8:30 a.m.  I didn't take near as much time with myself this go around.  Didn't dress up, had a baseball cap on and half the make-up I did the previous night.  I resolved with myself that I would not speak unless spoken to and I was just along for the ride and day out of the house.

Off we went, for another hour plus drive and again in silence.  I just listened to the radio and looked out the window.  I hadn't been up the Skalkaho Highway this far and was admiring the beauty.  He stopped once, along the way, and we got out and walked around a campground a little - still mostly in silence.  We also stopped at the Skalkaho Falls for a few minutes (hadn't ever seen them and had lived here for 3 yrs), but he was still silent.  Just stood, looked at it for a few minutes and then started sauntering back over to the truck.  I followed.  Then, we went over the top and arrived at the Sapphire mining place.

For some reason, he bought 7 buckets worth of gravel.  Do you have any idea how long it takes to pick through 7 buckets of gravel?  I do.  Approximately 6 1/2 hours.  Hahaha.  And I'm not kidding!!  As time went on, he became a little more chatty and started asking questions about me (finally), but I remained true to my decision, only answered his questions and did not try to make small talk.  By the time we finished, I was starting to get hungry and we headed around to Phillipsburg and then to Missoula.  By the time we got to Missoula, I was absolutely famished.  So, we stopped at Applebee's for dinner. 

While there, we had a great discussion about both of our situations and I think we ended the dinner with a pretty good understanding of what each of us was expecting out of our time together.  I literally could see a weight lift off his shoulders and knew this is what had been burdening him straight into the inability to talk.  In some ways, I wish he would've just said something up front; but then, I wouldn't have this great story to tell, would I?

As every good story must come to an end, so must ours - at least our first couple dates story.  It ends like this.  We were married in front of Skalkaho Falls, those same falls where we had stood in silence 10 1/2 months earlier; and to this very day, he still doesn't talk too much. 

I guess maybe that's why God gave him me!!!

Rock In The Nose ~ by Heather Oster

I managed to find one of the greatest emails I've ever sent. I hope you all enjoy the story and have a great laugh. I know I did, after it was all said and done.

So, I pick Hunter up from school yesterday and put him in his car seat. While buckling him up, he says to me "Look Mommie, I got a rock stuck in my nose." I said, "Oh, you do" thinking he was telling stories. I decided I had better look, just in case he was telling the truth, and low and behold I could see a rock in his right nostril. Being the calm and collected person that I am, I immediately flew into a panic. I ran (well not really), walked really fast into the school to use the phone. They have a secret code on their phones that you have to enter before you can dial out. The teacher was talking to another parent and I just decided to call when I got home.

I chanted the entire trip home "keep you fingers out of your nose, do not touch your nose, do not sniff and only look at the floor." over and over and over again for the entire ten mile trip. Once home, I figured, since he was strapped down, it would be a good time to try to get it out. My pinky nails are pretty long, so I decided to stick it up his nose to get the rock out. Well, needless to say, we were unsuccessful. Hunter was screaming and waving his arms around in the air and I was yelling at him to knock it off while my finger was jammed up his nose trying to get this stupid rock out. It was quite a show.

Finally, exasperated, I said, "Well fine, I guess you'll just have to live the rest of your life with a rock in your nose." I quickly changed my mind, grabbed his head so he wouldn't move and stuck my fingernail back into his nose. Still, no luck. I took him out of the car seat and we went into the house where the search began for removal tools. I tried many, including but not limited to nail clippers, two toothpicks, my finger nail many more times and tape stuck onto the end of my finger nail.

I think the most interesting, and novel, idea I had was the vacuum cleaner. Yes, a dirt devil can be used in more than one way, you just have to find the will. So, I hooked that sucker up, put the extension on and turned that baby on high. Hunter stood about four feet from me, covering his nose and screaming that it was too loud. Unfortunately, I didn't really care. By now, I went past frantic and worried to just plain pissed. I grabbed him by his arm and maneuvered him over to my position. With Hunter now hysterical, I stuck the extension up to his nose. I'll be damned if that didn't work either. I think all I accomplished there, was later in life, counseling for Hunter on the proper use of a vacuum cleaner.

As my ideas came to a close, (keep in mind Ryan has been calling every five minutes throughout this entire ordeal to find out if I have gotten the rock out yet), Ryan calls. After all this, he informs me he has a pair of tweezers, (which I had previously looked for and he hadn't previously mentioned), in one of his little kit things in the bathroom. Without further ado, I got the tweezers, came out to Hunter who looked at me and said sobbing and weeping, "I'm sorry I put a rock in my nose Mommie." I told to him to hold still and don't move. Carefully, I inserted the tweezers into his nose and successfully removed the rock.

Noteworthy, the rock was as long as the first joint in my pointer finger.

My blood pressure will never be the same, nor will the way I look at a dirt devil.

Happy Wednesday.