Shopping

T's* Views
Boy, they don't know how easy they had it when they went shopping in the old days. When they needed supplies, they just went to the General Store once a month or so and picked up 5 lbs. of flour, 5 lbs. of sugar, lot quantities of whatever else they needed and that was it.
Nowadays, with all the new packaging and the variety of supermarkets available, a shopper has much more choice but also has so many more decisions to make...Should I shop at the market near home for convenience or should I go a little farther down the road for the sale on paper towels and toilet paper? Which store has the most items on sale this week? Should I buy half of the groceries in this store and half in that one to take advantage of their respective coupon offers? Should I buy the name brand the family is used to or try a generic brand to save money? If the family doesn't like it, was it worth the savings? How much more gas do I use shopping in the store that's a little farther away? (add up the gas used, subtract the cents saved, and try to figure if it's a savings or not.)
And then there's the manufacturers' coupons! Oh, those coupons! They're in the magazines, on the packages, in the mail—and because I feel like I'm throwing away a dime or a quarter if I don't hold on to every coupon I see, I have a collection that's about to take over my kitchen. (Did I mention that my aunts and my mother-in-law also save their coupons for me?) Now I have the added burden and the guilt of always meaning to sort out all those little pieces of paper and file them in some kind of system so that when I'm about to go shopping I'll know just where to put my finger on the ones I'll need that day. But how many times I stop at the supermarket on my way home from work and don't have the coupons with me! It kills me to buy a product I know I have a coupon for at home. When the cashier asks "any coupons?" I want to tell her to "hold on, I'll run home and get them."
When I do plan my shopping carefully and make sure I have all the coupons I might need with me, then the fun begins. Each time I come to another department I have to check my coupons to see which product I'm going to buy. And say I have a 25¢ coupon for Tootsy Wootsy cereal and it so happens that a cereal the kids like equally well is on sale that day but I don't have a coupon for it. That's when my brain goes into calculator arrest. "Let me see...if I get 50¢ off the $1.89 cereal, that's $1.39 for 12 oz. If the cereal on sale is $1.49 for 13 oz., which one is a better buy?" And so on and so on. By the time I'm on my way out of the store, I'm completely drained! Never mind serving me free coffee to make me feel at home. By the end of my shopping trip I could use something much stronger than coffee!
*Terri the Typesetter
 T–Views Week of March 11, 1984.

I am amazed at how much power I have.

T's* VIEW
I am amazed at how much power I have. As a wife and mother, I find I can set the tone for the entire household. If I'm grouchy, everyone seems to pick up on it and become grouchy, too...whereas if I'm calm and loving, all the ruffled feathers are smoothed and peace reigns. So many times one harsh word is enough to start an avalanche of disgruntled feelings. In reverse, it's surprising what one loving word can do. So what does that mean? That I'm never allowed a harsh word? (You got it!) Not really, but knowing how much impact I have on the tone of the household, it does make me consider before I let that harsh word out. And, not being exactly a saint (yet), I have been known to unleash some anger or resentment, but as I get older (there ARE some advantages to aging, thank goodness), I'm finding you can vent your angry feelings in an unangry way. Paradox? Well, I guess what I'm trying to say is that you can let someone know you're not thrilled with what they did, without belittling the person who did it, and that seems to contribute so much to more peaceful relations. - And admitting you're wrong now and then is not the end of the world either. It surprises me how much it pleases my husband or kids to hear me admit I might have been mistaken and be willing to take another course of action. (That doesn't happen too often, of course.) And I'm even finding that sometimes other people know more than I do! Including my kids! How do you like that for a frank admission? (The kids love it, but then I remind them that they must have gotten their "smarts" from their father or me.) It also helps to look at things with a sense of humor, and there, too, we have a choice. When one of the kids spills a pitcher of milk at the dinner table, do you laugh, scream, or cry? Screaming only adds to the confusion, everyone knows it does no good to cry over spilled milk, so why not turn the situation into a joke and relieve the pressure on everyone. After all, accidents are just that...accidents. Would you turn on a guest who did the same thing one of the kids did? So it was time for the yearly shampooing of the rug anyway, and the tablecloth is washable (thank God for polyester). Oh, it was the lace heirloom? What the heck, it was going out of style anyway. No THING is ever more important than people, and the people who travel along life's highway with us are the most important in the world, so why not make the journey as enjoyable as possible? Over the years I know there were times when I have found myself being a witch with a capital B, and while it may have gotten annoyances out of my system, the havoc it created around me wasn't worth it. You know, of course, that you have the power, too. We all have the power to create our own environment. Isn't that a mind-boggler?
* Terri the Typesetter
T–Views - Week Of March 4, 1984

Confidence

T's VIEW
For a number of years now, I've been watching the way people walk, and I love to imitate the walk of one of our office beauties as she sashays across the room here at T-Views—the girl with so much oomph, all people have to say to describe her is "the very pretty one" and you know who they're talking about. Now, there are many pretty girls at T-Views, but none of them has the same confident, lilting walk that "the very pretty one" has, and it got me thinking—does the walk contribute to the "prettiness" or does the prettiness contribute to the walk? I've seen people who could be knock-outs but weren't because of the way they carried themselves; and I've seen people who would be considered average except that they carried themselves so regally, they convinced the rest of the world that they were better than average. Try it yourself—walk like a schlep and see if you don't feel like one; then throw your shoulders back, hold your head up high and walk tall, with a little chutzpah — see if you don't feel the difference. Sometimes even the shoes you wear make a difference. I notice when I wear the flat, bulky boots I bought in a discount store, I feel flat and bulky; but when I wear the more stylish boots I bought in one of the better shoe stores in town (on sale, of course) I feel like a different person. It's surprising how much your "step" has to do with your general outlook and the image you present to the world. Take the Rock star, Michael Jackson, for instance. His phenomenal success has a lot to do with the way he moves; "nobody moves like Jackson" is how he's described. If you tried putting any other young person in "highwaters" (pants that don't quite reach the shoe, allowing the socks to show, for those of you who don't have teenagers around), what you'd have is one very unhappy youngster, yet Jackson can carry it off flamboyantly because of the motion he puts into his every step. If I tried to put my kids in anything but long-enough jeans and the right brand of sneakers, they'd swear I was out to humiliate them in front of their peers.(If only I could make them understand that it's not so much what's on your frame but your frame of mind that makes the difference.) - Another example of what a difference a walk can make was made pretty obvious on a TV show I saw not long ago. A member of the audience was chosen to model a dress worn by Linda Evans of the TV series "Dynasty." They purposely picked someone approximately the size and coloring of the famous TV star, but even though the gown fit the girl picked from the audience perfectly, which was an accomplishment in itself, when she walked across the stage, in no way did she do for the dress what Linda Evans did, mainly because she had a whole different way of carrying herself. I guess what I conclude from these observations is that if you want to FEEL confident, you have to WALK confident! (Purists may substitute the word "confidently.")
*Terri the Typesetter
T-Views Week of February 26, 1984

I made muffins two days in a row last month. So what, you say

T’s’ VIEW
I made muffins two days in a row last month. So what, you say? So that means l exposed my family twice to the dangers of EDB without being aware of it. In fact, we had just finished the second batch of muffins when the announcement came on the news about EDB, and what do you think accompanied the warning about this latest health hazard we have to worry about? The announcement was coupled with a picture of muffins! If the EDB wasn't going to kill us, the shock was . So now they're thinking of taking most of the cake mixes off the shelf. And what about other forms of grain? What about flour? What about cereals? What about bread? Where does it end? And where were these harbingers of bad news when the pesticide was allowed for use in the first place? Sometimes I wonder about the system we have of checks and balances. We always find out about the dangers of certain chemicals after it's too late to do anything about it. Remember the cranberry scare some years back? It was right around holiday time and everyone was warned not to eat canned cranberries. So my father went out and bought fresh cranberries and splattered the whole kitchen with popping cranberries. Then, all of a sudden, the danger was not a topic of conversation anymore and everyone went back to eating canned cranberries, and as far as I know, no one seems to be the worse for it. - And how about the saccharin scare? And the nitrates and nitrites? Of course, cigarette warnings have been with us for a long time and they seem legitimate, but I see one of the major tobacco companies is starting a campaign of rebuttal against the findings of the Surgeon General. So where does it all leave us, the innocent but vulnerable public? If stress is the biggest killer of them all, then what's really going to do us in is listening to all these warnings and trying to figure out what's going to be hazardous for us next, How do we develop foresight instead of hindsight? And if they take all the food items off the shelves, what do we do then? Starve? Living in a modern technology is wonderful—we have so much more than our fore bearers had, but with new technology comes new problems and it seems we have to develop a new technique for survival. (I told you we only exchange one kind of problem for another). - I guess the answer is moderation. When they give us warnings of any kind, it's usually accompanied by statistics that show a rat or some other laboratory animal was subjected to dosages most humans wouldn't live long enough to ingest, and it does make me wonder who's behind all these get-it off-the-shelf shenanigans. Is somebody out there really concerned about our well-being or is it a vendetta of some kind to ruin certain businesses? Will we ever really know? EDB, PCB, DDT, QRST... watch out for the alphabet —it could be hazardous to your health !
- *Terri the Typesetter
 *T-Views Week Of February 19, 1984

What is this thing called Love?

T’s” View
What is this thing called Love? Everyone craves it, yet no one seems to know exactly how to explain it. There's brotherly love, sisterly love, mother love, father love, puppy love, romantic love, passionate love, love of God, love of country—all classified as love, yet not quite the same in character. When we're very little we don't have to worry about giving love; we're just interested in getting it and are allowed to be very vocal and very demanding. You're a baby left alone too long in a crib? Just give a good yell and Mommy or Daddy will come running to satisfy your need for love and attention. In a few years, we change our tactics a little, but giving is not yet a part of the act. Take the very young girl with a crush on a very young boy. She may tell her best friend how much she likes him, but he comes along and she teases and insults him to hide the fact that she has tender feelings for him. She may get his attention, but that's about all. Unless, of course, he happens to like her, too; then he may very well demonstrate it by hitting her over the head with his books. A little later there's the tongue-tied teenage period, where a normally very vocal girl or boy can't find a thing to say to the object of their affections, and if they do think of something to say, they agonize over it later, wondering how they could be so dumb. As we get older, we risk a little bit of our vulnerability and dare to let our love show in gradual doses. We learn that you get more flies with honey than with vinegar, and the same little girl who insulted the little boy, now turns coquetish and learns to build up his ego if she wants his attention. Once we get married and have children, the giving part of love dominates out of necessity and we start to learn what love is really all about. Our love becomes centered more on ‘other' than on 'self' and our joy comes from loving relationships with spouse and family. Unfortunately, some people never get past the baby stage or little-boy or girl stage of love, and miss out on so much. Then, too, people have different ways of expressing love. Some express it with poetry and flowers, while others prefer the silent treatment and presume you know they love you. If you get desperate enough to ask them, “Do you love me?” they'll give you an answer like: “I married you, didn't I?" regardless of the fact that the marriage may have taken place 20 or 30 years ago. For some, saying “I love you” comes easy, but for others those are the hardest three words to say. Maybe they're afraid of commitment, maybe they're afraid of rejection, but they'll do anything to avoid saying those words. In my mother and father's case, I think they were afraid of spoiling us. My father thought strict discipline was the way to show love, whereas my mother, who was afraid of appearing “mushy,” would give us back rubs and food to show her love. It took me a long time to realize that those back rubs were her way of making body contact, which I guess took the place of hugs. Today, I give my kids back rubs AND hugs, just to make sure they know I love them. - And so, on this Valentine's Day, my wish for all of you is that Love comes into your life and stays there forever.
*Terri the Typesetter
week of February 12, 1984

Career Workshop

T's”. View
Just out of curiosity, I went to the Career Workshop at the high school a few years ago to see what I could be "when I grow up." After a battery of tests, the results pointed to Writer and/or Philosopher. "Writer" I liked, since I've been interested in writing for as long as I can remember. But "Philosopher"? How much demand is there for THAT in the want ads these days? About as much as for a Shepherdess, I'd say. But as I got to thinking about it, I figured we're all Philosophers, in a way. We all have a certain philosophy that carries us through from day to day, and I came to realize that the way we think has a lot to do with the way we cope with life's problems. That's one thing you can always be sure of, no matter where you live, where you work, or who you are— you'll always have some kind of problem. "What!," you say, is that lady telling us there really is no 'silver lining"? Not really...all I'm trying to say is that in this imperfect world of ours, total problem-free living is non-existent and if we can get that into our heads and go on from there, when problems do arrive we won't be floored by them. For some, not having a mate is a problem; for others, the mate IS the problem. For some, their job is what makes them miserable, so they switch jobs and often take on a job that someone else left because it made him or her miserable. For many, the lack of money is a big problem; for those who have it, there's a whole new set of problems—how to invest it, how to hold on to some of it without having to give most of it to Uncle Sam, how to keep the thieves and the greedy at bay. I'm convinced that we can never get rid of problems completely—all we can do is exchange one kind of problem for another. The good news, though, is that we don't have to let them get us down. Trying to drown a problem in drugs or alcohol only gives you a whole new problem to cope with. So what's a person to do? First of all, you can accept the inevitable and not waste time and energy bemoaning the fact that there are problems. Let it become a challenge and dig deep into your inner resources to find a way to solve it. How many "great" men and women came to their greatness precisely because they overcame a serious problem? Also, while things could always be better, we have to remember, too, that they could always be worse Instead of seeing only what's wrong, why not look for what's still right. Someone with a broken arm will most likely not think about all the other body parts that are still working...the other arm, legs, heart, brain, liver, kidneys, eyes, ears, etc. In other words, whether we realize it or not, there's always more that's right than wrong. It's like the picture of a white canvas with a black dot painted in the middle. If you ask people what they see, almost invariably they'll say "a black dot," whereas all the white background is overlooked. Think about that when you're faced with a black dot in your life. - Okay, I got to play philosopher for today. Next week I promise to keep it light.
*Terri the Typesetter T–Views -
 Week of February 5, 1984

The beginning of a new year...

Thoughts From A T-Views Staffer
The beginning of a new year always reminds me of a brand new notebook. I don't know about you, but I always found a new notebook so clean and inviting, like a new beginning, a new start in life, one that was going to be organized and orderly. Of course, after the first few pages, the resolve to keep that notebook neat all the way to the end wore a little thin and the pages took on that lived-in look that all things used seem to take on. But after a while, it was time for a new notebook again, and the whole resolve to do better this time was given a second chance.
When you stop to think of it, life is full of new beginnings. We come into this world with a mind full of blank pages just waiting for input. By the time we're four or five years old and feel we've adjusted to this new world of ours, we're put into the school situation, where we have to begin a new lifestyle, meet new people and learn all sorts of new things. By 8th or 9th grade, when we feel we've got it made and are at the top of the ladder, we graduate and are thrust into the new world of high school where, as freshmen, we're again at the beginning. By the time we're seniors, we're at the top again and this time we're sure we've got it made, only to find that we're back again on the bottom rung either as a freshman in college or a novice in the working world. When we feel we've reached a level of competency and confidence in our chosen field, either we change jobs or get married, and once again have to learn the ropes from the bottom. Parenthood, grandparenthood, widowhood ... on and on with new beginnings. And after this life, we'll probably begin again in a new dimension and the process will be eternal. So here's to a new year and a new beginning, without which we'd be stunted in our growth and life would be so much less challenging.
ΗΑΡΡΥ ΝΕW ΥΕΑR!
Terri the Typesetter
week of January 8, 1984

I love Fairs

Silver Linings

By Terri Andersen
I love fairs—the carnival atmosphere, the mingling of people, the aromas coming from the food stands, the feeling of celebration that permeates the air—they make me feel light and young and bouncy. But I don’t think fairs love me. Every fair I ever attended provided me with at least one traumatic experience.
The very first fair I attended was the New York World’s Fair (back in the Stone Ages, according to my kids). We went as a group with a class from School. I trudged the miles of fairgrounds with my classmates, Somehow I managed to get separated from them and can still remember the moment of panic when I thought I'd spend the rest of my life wandering around foreign surroundings. Luckily, a teacher found me in time to make the trip home with the group, but I can't say that that fair made the impression on me which the school had hoped for.
By the time I was a teenager, I lost my fear of fairs and when we were spending a vacation in Middletown, N.Y. and I heard the Orange County Fair was being held that week, I was determined to find a way to get there. Since my father wasn't the type to drive his kids five miles into town for something as frivolous as a fair, my younger brother and I decided to walk to it. Our enthusiasm stayed with us during the hike and all through the fair, but when it started to get dark and we realized we had a five-mile walk back, we weren't exactly the happiest people in the world. The next fair opportunity didn't come my way until I was married, had children of my Own, and we moved from Brooklyn, N.Y., to Danbury, CT. Of course, we had to see the Danbury Fair! Even people in the Big City knew about that one, and we couldn't pass it up, being so close and all. Our first visit to the Danbury Fair, however, proved that being in the same city didn't necessarily mean being “close” to the fair. When we found the parking lot filled, we drove around until we could find a place to park, and while it may not have been five miles away, it sure was a long walk to the gate. The trip seemed doubly long. On the way back, with overtired children who just “couldn't walk another step.” We learned our lesson that year...the early bird gets the parking spot. The following year we left bright and early, and got a terrific parking spot right near the main gate. Little did we realize, however, what happens when everyone tries to leave the fair at once at closing time. It took us over three hours just to get Out of the parking lot. Not long after that, we kept hearing glowing reports about a fantastic country fair in Bridgewater,CT and we decided to give that one a try. The parade preceding the fair would have been worth the trip all by itself...I loved the feeling of watching a parade from a blanket on the grass instead of standing 10-deep on a city street, trying to see over Someone's head. And the fair itself had something for everyone...rides for the kids and all the country fair aesthetics for the grownups. - It would have been perfect if I hadn't decided to go up on the Ferris Wheel with my youngest son. By the time we got near the starter again, I begged him in a state of panic to “Let me Off!”—which he did, and my son never forgave me for cutting his ride so short.
By and by, destiny brought us to the good old town of New Milford, CT and I’ve finally found
a fair that's just my speed now. No rides, no parking lots, just three blocks of Green to stroll back and forth, a seat at the bingo game when the feet start to hurt, with a canopy overhead when the Sun gets too hot, and a chance to see all the people we know, whom we might not have run into for months (like Our next door neighbors). The only traumatic experience that took place at this town's Fair was when a bargain I found at a sidewalk sale didn't fit anybody at home.
But, what the hey, the Salvation Army can always use a few brand new articles of clothing.
See you at the fair?

Innies and Outies

Something EXTRA June 1981 Page 11

Silver Linings

By Terri Andersen

There are indoor people and there are outdoor people—“innies” and “outies” I guess you'd call them—and I'm still trying to figure which category I really belong in. One side of me is a great lover of the outdoors. My strongest fantasies take place under clear blue skies, in clean, fresh air, with green mountains, lush forests, babbling brooks and rambling streams. I picture myself hiking through tall-pined woods, with rays of sunlight peering through the trees, giving a cathedral effect to the space around me while I tread on a pine-needle carpet. Or I'm sitting on a large, smooth rock, watching the sun splash diamonds in a cavorting stream, and the peace and solitude are broken only by the joyful chorus of birds singing their praises of nature. If my fantasy takes place in late evening, I picture myself with people who mean the most to me huddled around a blazing campfire as the velvet cloak of darkness encompasses us in a circle of warmth and friendship.
The light from the fire casts a golden glow on the faces surrounding it. To make the setting perfect someone strums a guitar while mellow voices blend in perfect harmony to ease away the cares of the day and prepare our weary bones for the peaceful slumber of a night under a golden moon and brilliant stars. I still vividly recall a vacation in the Bahamas, where I came as close to pure ecstasy as I can imagine, just sitting at the edge of a beach with clear, blue water, letting the waves wash over me as they tried to pull me into play with them. The coolness of the water against my sun-heated skin made me feel almost “One with the universe.” So much for the outdoor side of me. The indoor side of me hates bugs, snakes, wet clothes or any other kind of discomfort. I've never actually “slept under the stars” for fear of being eaten alive by the insects of the night who seem to feel the outdoors is their sacred territory and any human who dares to trespass deserves at least six welts per inch of skin. I would love to go hiking, but I haven't yet found a pair of shoes that don't hurt when I walk in them. I promised my husband we'd go walking every night after supper, but find I'm always either too full or too tired—and can't decide where to walk to anyway. I put up a badminton set in the backyard to get my share of healthful exercise and have played exactly once. Couldn't stand the gnats getting in my eyes, my nose and my mouth. Every year we say we'll try camping, but the thought of having to give up my creature comforts helps me find all kinds of excuses not to go. I promise myself to put in a few hours of gardening every day, but can’t seem to get myself over to the garden. Too much work, too much dirt, too many bugs, too many weeds. Besides, if I grow too many vegetables that only means I'll
have to either cook them, can them or freeze them, and that's too much like work, too.
If I didn't have to get out of the house to “go to business,” I'd probably never bother getting dressed or leaving the house. So I guess I'd have to say that I'm really an “innie.”
But what about those “outie” tendencies? Will they ever get to be satisfied? Maybe I'll get my fill of the outdoor life in the Great Beyond. Sure hope it's bugless.