Category: Dumbassedness

Awning

We’re off to Crappy Tire to buy an awning – the awning we bought to shelter Headwater for the birthday gig they did for Jeff has gone the way of all awnings. I may retain a friend to make another cover as there’s nothing wrong with the frame on the old one.

 

I’m into the list of Human Universals.  The Sixers share many of the human universals but where they are different from us it’s like the bottom dropped out.  They aren’t materialists because they don’t need anything and can’t be made to need anything they can’t get from their environment, unless their thinking is disordered by religious fanaticism. They don’t experience the incest taboo, or groups larger than about 5 people living in one place, although they gather in groups to mate because it’s convenient.  They don’t care about sharing food. There are no tabooed utterances or hierarchies; males and females travel the same amount over their lifespans and are equally likely to take leadership roles on the rare occasions enough Sixers agree that a leader is required – mostly it’s when Bossypants decides to take action and then grinds conspecifics  into agreeing.  They don’t have proper names, they don’t have polysemetic words (at least in the social linkage language) and part of George’s sophistication is that he recognizes puns.  I’m having a gas with the list because it’s allowing me to see just how different the Sixers are from us, and how similar.

My facebook buddy Sean Haugh is a libertarian running for office.  Fox News just found out about him. They hate him because OH NOES He’s a WORKING CLASS LIBERTARIAN.  I didn’t think I could hate Fux Newsishness more.

He’s principled, funny, an SF fan, and a feminist libertarian (for realsies).  And he drinks beer.  If I lived in his district I’d work for his campaign.  If I was a US citizen I’d donate to his campaign.  I will be sending him funds earmarked for beer for his campaign workers after the results are in.

I feel somewhat less burdened by physical ickiness today.  What I want more than anything is a really long road trip.

They warned me

They told me what would happen.  I started following racism eradication activists on twitter, and they told me, down to the last squeak of privilege and bleat of illogic and roar of cognitive bias and growl of hatred and whine of misdirection and concussive threat of personal violence and siren of tone policing, exactly what would happen to me when I started confronting racist speech in others, in public.  In a three round conversation, I got it all but the threat of violence, including how the other person’s spelling and grammar devolved as (I assume from the name) he completely lost his shit.

I’ve spent a lifetime avoiding conflict and trying to talk pretty; this is going to make the friendships I have with people who want to help me with the work even more important.  It already IS ugly.  Up until this point I’ve had no skin in the game.  That’s what privilege does.  Now I want to have skin in the game without getting my feelings hurt, and that’s just not going to happen, and I have to get over it, and I’m scared.

One of the things that is helping is learning about the Japanese-American and African-American troops as they served their country fighting in the Second World War.  They wanted to prove two things, their patriotism and their worth. Many made the ultimate sacrifice to demonstrate both.  As they fought in their campaigns, they encountered the worst of what human beings can do to each other, and helped destroy the engines of fascism and racism, although they could not eradicate those ideologies.  With their sacrifice in mind, I will get off my ass; I will quit whining; I will do the work.

Short fuse

Keith parked in my spot and I yelled at him, mostly because we had a frantic and disgusting drive in from the ferry and I had no spoons left.  I still think he was inconsiderate and he still thinks my response was disproportionate.

I hurt my back at the duck pond yesterday (put my feel wrong and hurt the left side L5 S1 area) although feeding the ducks was plenty fun, especially with Lois and Bob in attendance.  I told her I was pissed off that she came to Vancouver and didn’t call me, but that’s life when you’re the ex, I guess, and we did have an amazing catch up in Victoria.  Bob continues to be so calm and kind and funny and Lois is as she ever was, energetic and fierce and informative and hilarious.  She was kidnapping ducks yesterday, my how they flapped until she released them.

Katie made two cheesecakes at the grandparents…. aaaaaand, they’re GONE.

Best night ever on the cpap in Victoria.  As always, Katie is right when she opined that my problem with the cpap is no longer the programming on the machine (I adjusted it, it’s fine now) but the total lack of comfort and quality in my mattress.  So, off to spend money on the most important six hours of my day today, mattress or bust.

F***** HELL.  The light in my bedroom is possessed by Satan.

Much amusement in some quarters that Paul’s girlfriend can’t get up until noon; since I’m no picnic in the sleep department, not to mention snoring like a chainsaw in a bucket of snot, I won’t judge, and I think it has been clearly demonstrated that Paul can tolerate many behaviours in his loved ones, shy of being told what to do.   Anyway, Jeff, Paul’s girlfriend’s sleeping habits impacted certain family members, so thanks for the Netflix info, since it allowed certain people to watch tv for 4 and a half hours while the rest of the household was resting in the pale limbs of Morpheus.  At least the kids have access here so they can come and go when it gets scary or boring.

I made a list on the ferry last night to try to deconstruct the anguish I’m feeling over certain kinds of decisions.  There’s the list of items, the emotional freight each action carries, and the financial implications.  I need to go over it again, but is putting COMPLETELY different emphasis on my to do list.  I suspect I could refine it further but don’t have to… there’s only so many ways to parse first world problems balanced against, you know, existential threats.  Selling the café is obviously a huge boat anchor at this point.

Dishwasher is running.  Obviously I should have run it before I left.

I am really looking forward to physio on Tuesday.

Off to do some more research!!

 

what a sh#tshow yesterday was…

after the morning, which was emotionally exhausting and frankly a new recent low point, I went into the shop to bake and wash dishes, and within minutes I was lying on the floor wondering what the fuck just happened.

I skidded on a piece of plastic on the floor, collided with the pizza oven, and then the sweet sweet floor rose up to meet me.  I never hit my head or lost consciousness, so I was able to immediately diagnose that I’d dislocated my right shoulder.  I got up from the floor walking like a zombie and shot through with pain, called Jeff, and he couldn’t come get me because he was having mobility issues of his own.  I called 911 and waited.  And waited.  And waited.  I was coping with levels of pain and disorientation that are right up there with giving birth unattended.  I couldn’t control my breathing and I was sweating so hard I couldn’t see.

The boys from #2 firehouse came and attempted to administer oxygen, and tried to put my arm in a sling but I was screaming and crying a little too enthusiastically for that. The firemen were very kind.  I did a lot of moaning and crying waiting for the ambulance.   After a very very long wait for the ambulance (yesterday was a record day for the Emerg because of a lot of MVA’s roof falls tree falls and other crush injuries (the announcements for cleanup help in emerg got squawkier and squawkier while I was in MTU)) I finally dipped my beak in some blessed, blessed nitrous, which doesn’t kill pain as much as it prevents you from screaming about it.

After the eternity of a twenty minute ambo ride I was shoved against the wall in triage and Dr. Lim came within 5 minutes and said, “I don’t think it’s dislocated.” And I said, then why does it hurt like a mofo and I’m walking like a zombie??? He checked again and faster than it takes to describe it, the ball went back in the socket.

Then many hours of waiting for xrays and results, and then I was released with a referral to a bone doc, 6 T3s, movement instructions and a sling, since it turns out the shoulder is broken as well as formerly dislocated.  Right shoulder OF COURSE.

I slept about as well as could be expected and am now attempting to come to terms with what is going to be a longish and interesting recovery. The shop will have to be sold, I can’t do nothing for 6 weeks or however long this takes.  I’ll know more on the 26th when I see the bone doc. I did advise that I have extensive numbness down that arm and that my two outside fingers are very tingly and weak; whether this presages really bad news for that nerve or is just my response to swelling who knows; Jeff advised me to be optimistic but not to lighten up about knowing what’s going on which I think is fine advice.

I am very glad I don’t live alone.  I am super grateful to my church family, who have been souls of kindness.

bad tempered comment

By not dying in harness, Benedict is spitting on the traditions of his office, and showing that he’s either afraid of prosecution or death, either of which demonstrate a marked public lapse in faith.  And the commentary from the Vatican on how African cardinals couldn’t get past first ballot in the conclave because they are ‘not known’ seems like the most egregious twaddle from a catholic – ie UNIVERSAL church.  (Notice how I didn’t use the words ‘institutional racism’?)

 

At least Rome no longer has crowds in their thousands outside the Holy See yelling ‘GIVE US AN ITALIAN’ which has happened more than once.

 

More commentary.

Gay schlafen

The newest character in Midnite Moving can be sent to sleep for a couple of hours by saying gay schlafen, which is go to sleep in Yiddish.  Which is the kind of thing that happens when two people who are alien mad scientists who shouldn’t be having or raising children decide “I’ma risk it”.  And don’t you wish you had THAT app.

Awoke far too early this morning.  (boring SG1 reference) Amanda Tapping tweeted about her Bouvier, George, who’s 120 lbs of lapdog, and whose gas rivals that of Christopher Judge.  These are the kinds of things I find teddibly amusing, which is as much as you need to know about the compos of my mentis these days.

I am arguing with myself this morning as to whether I really want to go to an all day church event about growth.  I think it’s a waste of money, but I am curious about how this expensive Unitarian boffin – who just so happens to be the establishing minister for the church – is going to fire us up.  I don’t want to go, as I am afraid I will ‘air my views’ in a ‘less than respectful or helpful way’.  Maybe I should.  Teach the controversy and all.

The waste of money part comes from the notion that growth comes from being an attractive church.  Our Religious Education program, which is the magnet which draws young adults with children to the church, is fanTAStic in terms of curriculum and staff . no srsly . but badly housed.  I mean, really badly housed.  The space we’re renting doesn’t suit and most parents come in and see it and recoil in horror.  We have tried to get this ameliorated but we DON’T OWN THE BUILDING, and of course unless every elder in the congregation drops dead and leaves his or her entire estate to the church, we never will own a building either.  On the basis of my conversations with other churches this not having a building ain’t a bad thing.  Church buildings get older than human beings eventually and there’s nothing like remediating asbestos tiles and leaky roofs and recalcitrant dragon-furnaces to put a damper on Sunday worship and cast a pall of gloom over the Board.

As it is, we can do church anywhere, with despatch and aplomb.  We’d hate to move again, but we will if we have to, and church will continue no matter what.

Looks like Katie’s buying a restaurant.  She’s seen it done right and done wrong, and I’m sure she’ll be fine.  We do NOT have big plans.  We have small ones.  I am going to be the silent partner and biscotti baker, which I am very happy about, since I will finally have a space close to my house which is exactly what I want for baking biscotti, and the way the law works anything that’s baked there must be sold there in at least some quantity so it’s not a factory.  I’ll be making a deposit on Monday (she’s at work even though it’s a stat) and Katie and I already have an immense list of things to work through.  I want her energy and intelligence to be rewarded.  Keith expressed reservations, interestingly, but I think he may be experiencing jealousy.  Which reminds me, now I really DO have to change my will, so Keith and Katie get a more equitable share, and so Paul is no longer the executor.

We’re not planning on making any money for most of the first year, start up date April Fools (and you should have seen Katie’s face as we set the date).  The easiest thing for me to do is to think about the money as being lost.  Out of the gate.  Something about this feels right though, there’s a weird ‘this will be okay’ vibe.

The Treasurer problem I had has been resolved.  I crashed the chart of accounts somehow in Simply Accounting and reasoned my way out of the problem with a few adjustments. Now it’s time to MAKE RECEIPTS FOR ALL THE DONORS.  It is a finite problem with a deadline, and it’s all good.

What the Grand Joculator brings us

1.  Jeff says he’s paying too much money for rent.  In Vancouver that is not true but he sure could pay less rent elsewhere in the province, someplace on the Island for example.  He says he’s going to give me plenty of notice so I am very relaxed about this.  Not having in house tech support would just about kill me, as would giving up the flat screen and cable and the PVR, but life is full of interesting times and changes.  It definitely means I might end up with a different roommate though, and that raises the specter of a whole other series of maddening things; Jeff is/was the best roommate evar, as I believe I have stated a number of times.  I can see his point though and we all have to take care of our own needs.

2.  The new Galapagos BBC 3D documentary from David Attenborough is ABSOLUTELY STUNNING.  Highly highly recommended.  Don’t forget to watch the “making of” too.

3.  Signed off on my taxes for the last 4 years.  I should get a large amount of money back, but of course the feds will have to look at the returns before that happens.  I remain sanguine.

4.  Job hunting is interesting.  I got a lead from my network of contacts, and it is wonderful that it happened BEFORE I started instituting the new job search parameters (working the network).

5.  South Fraser Unitarian Congregation may get me as a speaker for Easter.  I’d whip out my previously provided Jesus service.  We shall see; I have not yet received a response.

6.  The sun is out, and I walked around in it, and of course the world seems like a better place.

7.  (link removed for safety) This.  Oh, this.

8.  I came up with a really cool idea for a science fiction story and forgot to write it down.  It has something to do with old people and robots, and damn I’m mad – I have a pad downstairs for all the ideas I get while I’m watching tv and there are tons of them so far.  Why, o why, blarp blergle.  I could have just written it down.  That’s what pen and paper FOR, SILLY APE.

9.  Did I mention I am on the waitlist for the Translink busker program?  If I’m still not working, I may do that to raise cash.

10.  I’m going to have some of the roasted squash and roasted garlic soup for lunch and then back to the job hunt.

11.  I’ve been sleeping downstairs and completely NOT HAVING ANY SCREENS in my sleeping room.  As a consequence my back is much better.

12.  WOWZERS.  Great news for deaf people.

My favourite story about myself

My favourite story about myself brings together many of the threads of my life in one place.

I was working at the Canadian Mental Health Association Ontario Division office in downtown Toronto.  I had a job I liked, a boss I adored, and coworkers who taught me a lot and accepted me as I was.  I was expecting my first child and they threw me a surprise baby shower.

Like most expectant moms I was reading baby books as fast as I could and had absorbed an incredible amount of information.  I was planning on breastfeeding and the night before the shower had read how doctors had once told mothers to run bristle brushes over their nipples to toughen them up for nursing.  I considered this to be entirely barbaric and even complained to my then spouse about it, and he agreed with me.

I was so flabbergasted and so touched when they brought me into the boardroom for presents and cake that for a brief moment I was speechless.  Then I started reviewing the gifts which were thoughtful and kind, until I got to a present that was a brush, labeled ‘Nipple Brush’.

I got quite irate.  “If you think I’m using this on myself you’re out of your mind!” I said firmly.

Then.

I realized.  This was for a baby bottle, not me.  What I had been reading the night before was so close to my mind that I had just assumed….

As realization flooded over me I blushed to my hairline and muttered “Never mind,” while my coworkers sat around me and laughed until they cried.  Pretty soon I was laughing too.

Not all of the misunderstandings in my life have been so funny.

Didn’t get the job

Oh well, there’s always another one, right.

Keith got told yesterday they were going to be reducing his hours and 18 hours later had another job.  A more effective way of saying ‘FUCK YOU’ is difficult to imagine.   He was quite pleased with himself and got mom’s fusilli and slow cooked spaghetti sauce as a reward.

Also, the new Homeland, which was awesome, but I like any Homeland where Brody and Carrie have face time.

Carrie is getting MOTION SICKNESS from all the aftershocks in Masset.  I don’t think she wants to be living there any more.  Time to inspect the earthquake kits again.