Category: Whining

Emotional pointillism

Yesterday’s practical job interview was a disaster, but a low key one.  I’m not displeased with the haircut Katie gave me in the course of the interview, but I’d like to take the woman who supervised her and fire her at high velocity from the deck of the Iron Workers’ Memorial Bridge… in effigy, of course, I do not advocate violence except when in an excited and irrational frame of mind, which advocacy, when it occurs, I am obliged to immediately retract as being contrary to both my core self interest and my belief system, spindrift as it is.  Katie was philosophical about it, which helps.

I googled Glenn Beck to find out what church he goes to, subsequent to learning that he blames atheism for the end of the American dream.  Personally I blame their judicial system, which, skipping hand in hand with television over the last 60 years, has f|cked the Americans to the point where recovery into a society where self-governance and personal responsibility are considered virtues seems very unlikely.  Anyway, Glenn Beck, a Mormon, blames atheism.  It’s a lot like blaming Canada in its charming looniness … and it sure as f8ck is easier than looking in a mirror.  Of course me blaming the judicial system without pointing to the interconnected power structures which have allowed Glenn Beck to make fabulous amounts of money by being emotional, uncommitted to the facts and verbally abusive to people who haven’t ever done anything to him personally, would be very remiss, but the courts could have done more in the last 60 years and they haven’t, so they are the notional cat I kick this morning.

Marc Emery was taken into custody on Monday.  He’s a manic self-publicist with a libertarian messianic complex and a smoking hot wife.  I still don’t think he should have been extradited.  I hope he isn’t injured or murdered in custody; I hope he comes out of it sane, or at least as sane as he is now.  I am very angry at the Canadian government, but as long as we have Harper, it’ll be like this.  I knew Marc when I weighed 132 pounds and wore aviator frames so I guess I am biased.

After the interview disaster in the late afternoon (softened by the Seabus ride somewhat) I took the girls (Cassie, Kashka and Katie) for a drink at drink.  Yes, the department of redundancy department has made adjustments, and there is a new drinking hole for adults who wish to have a conversation and properly constructed drinks.  This new establishment does not use drink mixes.  The music is not turned up full blast; the wait staff are attentive, professional and fun.  I am booking Katie’s 21st bday party now!  609 Columbia for anybody who is interested.

Today is a day of packing and worrying.  I f|cking hate travelling, but if you want to get someplace you have to travel, alas and oy vey iz mir.  Jeff says, mimicking piteous kitten for comic effect, “But what will I eat?”  He’ll be fine of course.  He got the Margot grooming course; she bitched at him exactly the same way she bitches at me, so that will be fine too.

I closed all the windows permanently in preparation for winter.  The air conditioner needs to get put away, except I’m damned if I can figure out where.

I’ve decided not to take my computer on my trip; but that’s only because the notion of backing it up before I leave makes me all exhausted.  I’ll take pot luck on internet access; I don’t imagine it will be much of an issue, as everybody I’ll be visiting has some.

Currently, it is raining.

I made mini-cinnamon crunchies yesterday and gave some to Landpeer Kim with the rent cheques for the next three months.  I had to do something after she gave me all those home grown tomatoes.  Yum!  Also, I invented the recipe while I was making it.  The two people I thank most for my current ability to cook are Catherine and Paul.  Catherine because of her very inspiring adventurousness, Paul because I got kinda competitive with him in the ‘not using a recipe’ department.  Now I feel like I’m a good cook almost without thinking about it.  I can’t remember the last time I cooked something inedible; the worst thing I cooked in the last year were those dreadful muffins; they induced heartburn of world class immensity.

My back is really bothering me, which is another reason why I do not want to fly.  Or rent a car.  Silly me.

I light a candle for those killed and homeless in consequence of the earthquakes and flooding in the Philippines and Indonesia.

People keep sending me links I’ve already posted to my blog, in one case two years earlier.  It is to smirk.

I had a lovely conversation with Patricia the other day and look forward to catching up with her live upon my return.

I am a cool hunter.  One hundred thousand years ago I would have been finding tasty things to eat for my kids and grandkids.  It’s the same, but only different, as an ex-coworker of mine used to remark.

MilkDrop is a superlative visualization plug in.  Highly recommended; trippy as all get out. I occasionally have to look at the ground when the presets go into migraine-inducing territory but that’s my only complaint.

I am emotionally sensitive to certain wavelengths of light.  The more I consider this, the more I think, what?

I can hardly wait for the first snowfall so I can take video of Miss Margot.

She is very rotund.  We will have to start meal feeding the cats, which is harsh.

I have decided never to take her to my parents’.  Given her unaccountable urge to tangle herself up in people’s legs as they are going up the stairs, the prospect that she would either trip and kill one of my folks or get crushed by accident is too much to bear.

Grr

Things keep happening in my personal life that are amusing and appalling and entertaining, and I have to keep my mouth shut.  I feel like a kid on the wrong side of a bathroom door, dancing up and down and clutching my cameltoe, but no, no talky about any of those things that are on my mind, whatever the infelt urgency.  I think that there aren’t many kinds of human speech; bragging, stroking, complaining, and sharing information. I want to brag 80% and share information 20% and those proportions make for long odds against my hypothetical communiqué being of interest to even my mother, who has had little use for tiresome blowhards as long as I can remember. With this sad and frustrated concession to common sense, good manners and self-interest, all things I show little respect for under most circumstances, I must turn my attention to other things and not splash my business about in an irresponsible or tasteless fashion.

Okay, that’s enough whining, nobody frikkin’ cares.  On the plus side, Katie was here and we blasted through a whole bunch of recorded television.  Last ep True Blood, season openers for NCIS, House and Castle.  Yup, sat through 5 hours of tv today, but at least I got the f=cking DVR on without calling Jeff at work for the nth-t-nth time.  Also, got one more song written down, being Cash Flow… a sweet little tune.  In the last couple of days I got Calliope and Wish it was Mine done too, or did I report on that already (grumbling fuddy duddy noises.)

The weather has been g for glorious.

so much is happening!

Or nothing, depending on how you look at it.

Last night I went to the opening fireworks (Canada) and it KICKED ASS.  The theme was the Wizard of Oz and they did an amazing job of synching up the fireworks, and the colours and patterns, to the music.  I recorded it on my dinky camera; looks like shite but at least I have a souvenir.

The ride downtown last night was difficult; the ride back was scary.  I am SO glad Keith came with me because he was the only thing preventing me from having a full on anxiety attack, so quiet and calm and martial artsish was he.  Suffice it to say that I came a micron from getting backwashed in bear spray.  I didn’t, but it was a near thing.  The cop presence was beyond anything I’ve ever seen in Vancouver. If this is what the future looks like, it can kiss my ass.  I was deaf after I got off the Skytrain – the noise level was incredible – and I had had to ask one particularly lungworthy native chick to kindly please stop yelling in my ear.  (“KAYLA YOU STUPID BITCH BRING ME THE CAMERA I WANNA SEE THE PICTURES!” over&over&over).

It was great to see Alex and Rob and get the benefit of their roof deck once more – unimpeded view and lovely company.  Darwin made little happy bird noises all the way through the display, which was civilized of him; Alex was concerned he might scream through the whole thing, having been so rudely awakened and hauled upstairs.  Alex put on a lovely spread as always.  Cheesy, cheesy goodness! Paté!

Today, I SLEPT IN.  I was supposed to be at Suzanne’s for 9 and woke up at 9:35.  What to do?  No change, no bus tickets; didn’t want to take a cab, so guess what, I rode.  (Thanks Keith for the tire pumping).  The trip there was a breeze, being almost all downhill, and the trip back I took in stages, stopping off to get foodicles for dinner for Jeff and me.  Thanks to Leeanne and Patricia for getting me more inclined to ride; I was amazed, given how out of shape I am, how good I feel now. I mean, I feel really good.

Anyway, Suzanne and I had a good old chinwag and caught up about  the kids and their various interesting life frolics, and then I found out she’s never been to Wreck Beach. This is an outrage!  I immediately called Mike and he agreed this is a problem we should immediately fix, like maybe tomorrow.  I will call her and give her a head’s up.

I rode (okay, that hill above Royal Ave I walked) home, stopping off at the bank and Joe’s Farm Market and Farm Town Meats, getting a mango, a tomato, a red pepper, and orange pepper and a purple onion, and also chicken breasts and pork chomps, and coconut milk for the rice, as when I called Jeff I offered him the option of bbq chomps or butter chicken, and he immediately said butter chicken.  That’s gonna be yummy.  I already made the salad, and as soon as I get off here I’m going to finish cleaning up the kitchen and maybe start running a load of laundry, and then I am going to rearrange my room so I can have all of my recording equipment and musical instruments out at once without difficulty.

I missed the locksmith by literally 7 minutes but that’s not too surprising given that he said he’d be by on Tuesday, and does today look like Tuesday to you?  A good tradesman is hard to find.

Tanya is thinking of dropping by with babby again today.  Happy me.  I have to be here for the rest of the day anyway, visitors would be so nice!

I only THOUGHT Miss Margot’s preop screen came back okay

Doc Mehdi says her platelet count is so low that if he operated now she’d bleed out.  Good thing I went for the pre-op screening.  One of two things is going on.  Either the results were f*cked up, AND they didn’t call me to tell us before Jeff took her in, or she’s genuinely sick (which, given her behaviour is virtually impossible to believe) and, I say again, how come nobody called? I quoted LM Montgomery when remonstrating with the doc this morning, “Sad mismanagement somewhere!”  So I have to pay for yet more tests but they are keeping her overnight for free.  Apparently no work is getting done in the office as all the assistants are ignoring the phone for a chance to play with her; she’s already giving orders and being carried about from place to place.  Nobody who has met Miss Margot will fail to see that it’s just as well somebody as heartless and callous as me got her, or she’d be ruling the world by now.  Honestly.  She’s not a cat, she’s a benevolent dictatrix in feline form.

Anyway, I am so heartless that if it turns out she’s a goner, I’m going to keep her skull.  It is an entirely remarkable shape, and I would mount it at the top of a staff as an extremely scary object.  I mentioned this to Jeff earlier and he was grossed out. Hope you are too.  Mind you, if she’s okay and they just screwed up her bloodwork, I’m going to find another vet, after the operation.  She has to be spayed, she’d die if she ever was bred to anything but a very tiny male purebred.  And in the meantime, if she doesn’t have cancer or untreatable thrombocytopenia, I guess I’m on the rack for a LOT of expensive vet bills.  Cazart.

Teeth and nail-biting

I had to get the bite adjusted on a lower molar (it still hurts to bite down but not as much) and I’ve got two cavities to re-excavate prior to losing my dental plan.  And I may be in for another crown, but that’s pretty normal, and there is always the possibility that there’s an infection the xrays didn’t show; I don’t care, I just want it fixed.

Landpeer Tony beat at the house with a sledgehammer for an hour and a half Thursday night.  Jeff thought of remonstrating with him and decided it was pointless.  They still haven’t brought me back the keys they took the day they ripped the deck off the house.

I phoned Kim when I got out of the dentist’s last night and the house will be ready Monday.  Jeff will call her and inspect it for move in readiness as he doesn’t work Mondays and then we’ll hire a truck, likely for the first weekend in June, as it’s likely to be too nuts between now and then anyway, not packed, John service, and the generalized insanity of having dozens of friends and family I haven’t seen in years or many moons turn up and need coddling.  I am now to the point where I don’t feel like I’m going to fall off the edge of the world.  I feel a more grim determination that I’m going to do the best I can by my year off, and really really make an effort to finish things.  John kicked my ass many times to be more physically and musically active; strange that he had to die before I felt like listening to him.

A big bag of his clothes arrived; thank you mOm.  I got the frog silk shirt back, thank you for your indulgence Juliana, and I mention his white tiger shirt and his superhero cape.  I will be interested to hear what Lady Miss Banjola would like done with that.  I want the Beacon music shirt but the rest should go to his friends and family.  Also, I am going quite insane thinking of who should get the willie warmer he owned – and occasionally wore, rather horrifyingly – and I kinda think his old housemate Colin should get it but I’ll leave that little conundrum to the family as well.  I can’t imagine Keith wanting or wearing it, or Jesse for that matter, and those were his only two nephews.

Most important thing on my list between now and the 28th is writing John’s eulogy.  There will actually be two, one for public and one for private consumption, but the public one comes first.

Took Jeff to the Keg as a gross act of self and brotherly indulgence.  Today I need to pack, pack and pack again, as well as launder and throw out trash.

I’m having a rilly hard time concentrating at work.  No surprise there.

Quit my job yesterday

June 19th is my last day.  I’m walking down the road to Jericho Beach Tuesday night and thinking “This is nuts.  How much more pondering do I have to do to know I don’t want to be doing this anymore?”  I phoned Katie and told her, and she provided consoling words.  Then I turned the corner and there was the biggest rainbow I’ve ever seen.  I’d post the pics but rainbows need a good photographer and a hefty lens, neither of which I had.  Then I enjoyed the show at Jericho (Brighter Lights Thicker Glasses, and I can’t recommend them enough) with Peggy (after playing John’s Song and That Godforsaken Hellhole I Call Home), and then came home and told myself I’d sleep on it.  And I did, and I went to my brother and said, “I’m quitting my job today,” and he said “Great!” and then I went in and told NewBoss and then everybody in the building knew and I had a stream of miserable engineers and unhappy techs come by and ask if it was true.

Why?  Because John died.  I knew, after Brian C. quit, that something very fundamental was gone and not coming back.  I knew I was not giving it my best.  And time’s winged chariot is outside my front door honking.  I have an immense list of stuff I want to do and no energy or heart to do it as long as I’m working full time.

Daughter Katie came over last night so I could help her with her job hunt.  I fed her and Jeff chicken thighs in mixed herbs and bouillon, peas, asparagus and tater tots.  Mike came over.

While they were here, Miss Margot jumped up on the keyboards that I have negligently and sloppily left in the living room, and I turned them on, and then Jeff coaxed her into walking up and down the keyboard a couple of times. Katie and I knew, and Jeff and Mike did not, that the keyboard splits and is percussion sounds on the left and piano on the right.  So we were laughing – I laughed until I was gasping for air, and we were all crying and hooting in a most unseemly manner – because she walked to one end of the keyboard sounding like she was trying to compose the climactic piano music for an artistic horror film from the sixties – and then she parked her butt on two keys and just sat there, eyeing us with something resembling resentment and puzzlement, her butt making a chord the whole while, for at least a minute, possibly longer, while Jeff tried everything to get her to walk up the keys.  Then Mike did something that got her attention, and she walked toward the other end, writing a very beautiful and unusual song as she did so, and I ran to get the camera, and all I got was her walking on some percussion and dismounting with a “Bam-dum KISH!” exactly like she was finishing off a comedy sketch.  It’s not long enough to post and the light level is very low, and I’m SCREAMING with laughter and shaking the camera.  I wish I could have gotten the whole thing, it was just about the most amazing thing I’ve seen lately. And it happened in my living room.  Katie, wiping her eyes, said that was the hardest she’d laughed in a very long time.  Miss Margot is a really remarkable animal.  I mean, a cat who eats oatmeal?

You know, if I quit my job, I could train Margot, the clown cat.  I wonder if I can get a false nose fitted for her.  No, some ideas are better left unrealized. Hey, I DID quit my job! But taking a year to train a clown cat, THAT has income possibilities.  I should set the house up for camera operation in every room.  Oh, Jeff!?  Wifi webcam throughout the house?  I know Miss Margot won’t be little and cute forever.

I need a root canal. I hope I can make it through the weekend.  The poison from the abscess is affecting my jaw and tongue.

Canucks win 3 zip over St Louis. Many horns honk.

I am quite sure all the bars in town breathed a sigh of relief.

Click here for an amazing assortment of zoo pictures from around the world.

Paul stopped by on his way back into town.  His sis and bro-in-law are doing famously – she is starting to do doula work in rural Alberta, which is exciting.  Lois always was one of my fave people.  Their mom Phyllis is also, apparently, well, and my hat’s off to her given what a challenge it is to fly solo when you’re up in your eighties and not so mobile as you once were.

Miss Margot just gave me a demonstration of what Jeff has had to put up with these last few weeks, by climbing up my bare leg with her claws.  I am so proud of myself for not screaming.

Keith is coming over today, and then later we’ll be off to Lexi, Darwin and Rob’s for dinner.  Katie has been contacted and advises she is coming too.

There is a housefilk today (I got the dates wrong) AND a party at Mike’s tonight. Why does all the fun have to pile up in one day?  I wish I could bilocate.  Or trilocate.

CSI has either jumped the shark or is warming it up backstage.  They did a Star Trek knockoff episode, although having Grace Park in the audience was a nice touch. We’ll see if they’re back on the game next week.

ScaryClown liked my word crapstack (which I introduced on this blog a mite ago) and has made it more official sounding by putting ‘metric’ in the front.  Doesn’t a ‘metric crapstack of work’ sound official?  I quite like it.

Beautiful day

I got up at 6:30 yesterday and started work on the canonical list of allegrasongs; I checked the 130 strong list of songs, removed the inadvertent duplicates that had crept in because I keep changing the song titles, I found one missing set of lyrics, added a dozen which I actually know the lyrics to but had never (oops) written down, checked the list of songs again and marked all the ones I don’t have lyrics for; was HORRIFIED to learn that I no longer have the lyrics for “But can she type?” which is an extremely 70’s sitcom theme-styled song about looking for a job in Toronto in the early 80’s. The tune I still have, it’s a swooping cheerful rollicking thing.

As best I can remember:

The customer is always right

and so whenever possible

I try to be the customer

But lately I’ve been looking for a job

and it aint easy

Can’t say how much I wish it were!

But can she type, but can she type?

Watch the paper and the fingers fly

the fingers fly….

Pound the pavement knock on doors

it doesn’t matter metaphors

it doesn’t matter what you choose

They all want to pay you this

and you want to make that

Whatever happens you will lose.

and then in an annoying talking blues style…

they give me tests… on a keyboard dinosaur…. date of manufacture – 1964! Christ, this thing is almost as old as me….

and then I’m missing a verse. Candidly, I suck!  But I just copied what I typed into the data base, so, go me.

Then I remembered a huge chunk of a song that when Paul criticized me about it (he gave me a 10 minute lecture on how I should not write about such disgusting subjects, a view he no longer holds and has expressed contrition for) I put the song down.  What is my problem? (ed.  You think you have only one???)  I respond to criticism much as JRR Tolkien – I either ignore it in its entirety or abandon what I was working on, which in a nutshell is why I’ve never made a nickel from my work.  It’s hardly Paul’s fault if I don’t have an adult reaction to comments. Anyway, angry that I had lost the first verse, I wrote another one, which, I am convinced, is better, or at least has a slick internal rhyme.  Thank you Flying Spaghetti Monster in my brain.

Then, after I whined that I was on a creative roll and didn’t feel like cooking dinner, as I had promised to do, the kids and Paul showed up with Chinese food and we stuffed ourselves, and then Paul and I had the untrammelled delight of watching Katie fall asleep on the sofa WITH A BOOK IN HER HAND.  TV does it again.  Katie watched True Blood and loved it (June, 2009, there will be more!) and then I bought her the first book and she went nuts and has since acquired the rest of the series, some bought by her G’ma (that is mOm’s ‘thug’ name, so’s you know) (I am the Notorious M.O.M.) and some by Dax, who doesn’t need a thug name but has softened my prickly heart by buying my girl books.  I sent a cinnamon bun home with him yesterday for his roommate, just to show that I’m not a hater… and one for him, too.  They are the bestest cinnamon bunses ever, as I melted half a 70% Purdy’s bar into the goo, and I’m saving some for Jeff when he gets home from Victoria this evening because he will not want to miss them.  As promised Robof9 will be getting one today.

Then Paul and I went for a walk, the weather FINALLY having cleaned up and then he went to work and the kids hung around until after I went to bed.  Margot didn’t sleep with me last night, sad face.

Now, to fly out to the living room and clean up the ungodly mess of cables and musical instruments I left like a booby trap, a quick shower, and off to my shiny place of employment.  I had a great day yesterday, and I got really really close to getting something crossed off my list.  Excelsior!!

To quote Margot

288888888277777777777888888888!!! Those ****ing *******s in the Facilities at SFU should be keelhauled, hung and *****d on, and have red hot lock wire shoved in their eyes.

 

It is SNOWING again and the hills here are so greasy the walk to work was like a marathon.  Die in a fire!

 

Okay, I don’t mean it, but I am sure glad I decided to wear boots with a good tread today, because it was NOT snowing when I left the house.

Kitty (and people)

Every morning she climbs up on me and ritually sneezes in my face.  This is, according to the lad I got her from, pretty normal.

She is struggling less and less when I brush her; when she’s about as relaxed as I can expect, I’ll bathe her. Jeff has made me swear a mighty oath that I won’t do it unless he can film the entire thing.  I’m thinking we should film it AND get stills.  It’s gonna be an event.  Now kitty is stalking the power cord for the MacBook.  Now she’s chasing Gizmo off his food dish…. bad plan.

To be able to wake up at 2 am, with her just out of my sleepthrashing range on the bed, instantly purring when I reach out to touch her ludicrously soft fur, is the most beautiful thing in my life right now.  I know I kinda ‘bought a friend’ but there was no guarantee she would even like me, and but she’s showing every sign of liking me a lot, rushing up to me when I come home from work.  She likes Jeff fine, but I’m the one who cleans her and brushes her, so she knows who mom is.

She’s got the boys completely whipped, and it hasn’t even been two weeks.

When Katie was here for dinner two Sundays ago Margot jumped onto the blue exercise ball in the living room.  Jeff reports that she has now jumped onto the ball and stood on it for a second and then jumped off.  I wish I had somebody who could circus train her, she’s got native talent.  The man who runs the cat circus (and while looking for him I found the Charles Mingus Cat Toilet Training Program, apparently written by the bassist himself) says that by watching a cat carefully you can tell if they have a certain bent and then you very slowly and patiently shape the behaviour until they are pushing strollers full of other cats, walking on high wires, walking on their front paws, and doing complicated dance routines with other cats, among the many other bizarre things he’s trained cats to do.

Hm.  Well, I’ve been remiss in reporting the social news.  Dr. Filk paid us a flying visit on Friday, and mightily glad was I to see him, and he found la belle Margot entertaining.

Paul and the kids were by for Sunday dinner and we watched Jurassic Park.  Paul brought the best pork roast, and we had onions and carrots and taters and corn, so it was a real Sunday dinner.

No date with my new friend this past weekend, I’ve been feeling a bit off colour and my foot is still hurting like a b9st9rd so anything involving more than about ten blocks of walking finishes me off.  Yes, I should see a doctor, but for what?  To get told it’s sprained ligaments and I should get orthotics?  I am so tired of going to the doctor and finding out I’m a jeezly hypochondriac.  Given that I’m fifty I’m sure I’ll get bad news eventually but every health scare I’ve had except for my back – which is the same as always, thanks – has turned out to be figmentary.  Actually, I took Robaxicet last night and I had an AWESOME night’s sleep.

Just fixed poached eggs and toast for brekkie, and I am now contemplating a second cup of coffee.  Oh Margot, quit chewing on the cable…..  If you get electrocuted, nobody will be able to tell.

The landpeers have rearranged the way they park their vehicles so I can use the walkway.  Jeff and I are responding by ensuring they have the rent cheques in hand in about fifteen minutes.  It’s actually kinda handy having the landpeers that close.

I handed out biscotti at work yesterday.  Man, I love doing that.

I wish I could blog about work.  But continued employment beckons encouragingly, so I will defer to my more sensible, grownup, beaten down by capitalizm self, and keep my icecream siphon closed.

Speaking of ice cream.  I brought some home last night.  Then I said to Jeff, “Screw this noise… Dessert, it’s what’s for supper.”  Thus my atonement with a nourishing and sensible brekkie today.

The laundry list

Woke up at 2.

Eddie crying in my room again, but this time he let me pet him for about half an hour.

Could not for the life of me go back to sleep.

Did not want to go to work.  So…. tired….

Another commute to work in the drear rain, which magically transmuted to snow on the hill, and they are doing construction and thus diverted us onto a pathway that appeared to be clay mixed with greasy snow.  Almost fell four times on the way to work, again, the worst slip causing me to pull muscles.  Being diverted into a muck heap almost wrecked my shoes.  Complained to the site supervisor that where we were being forced to walk was a safety hazard, you bastard, have a nice day.

Got to work and everybody is asking me why I’m limping.  I wish I knew.  The last time I limped this much my back crapped out shortly afterward.  The pain in the top of my foot is worse when I walk and better when I climb or descend stairs, which makes NO SENSE to me. Why would flexing the foot hurt less?  The pain is markedly less when I do not wear footgear, which means I should hie me off and spend more money I don’t have on orthotics.  I used to get depressed when I was presented with yet another physical challenge, now I just set my jaw.

In the afternoon, Jeff got me at work and dropped me off at David Lam campus where – I had learned that morning – I was NOT going to get a contact lens fitting from my son but from a total stranger.  I stopped off in the campus bookstore and got Homage to Catalonia by George Orwell, and a really cool flashcard book about human anatomy, then went to my appointment and then learned that all the grudgy hopeless feelings melted – all Keith had had to do was say I was his mother, and they swapped things around so that I could get the fitting from him.  Got fitted – it was damned thorough – and walked away with saline and two new contact lenses, which fit great and which I wore for about three hours.  My eyes are a bit gummy today, but not significantly more than they are in the mornings anyway.  As we were commuting back home together I read bits of Homage aloud to Keith and the two of us were killing ourselves laughing, because grim as the subject is (Spanish Civil War), parts of it are screamingly funny.

Then Jeff went to a job interview which went well and he can news about it if he wants to, and then on the way home my cell rang and it was ScaryClown, saying OMG new kitty I’m coming over (reMARkable what getting a new animal does for your social life) as ScaryClown is crazy mad insane for cats and then we watched the 1929 ship around the Horn documentary, with ScaryClown occasionally emitting phrases of stunned appreciation, amusement and awe (JUST as I expected).

Then I cooked pierogies and fed them and then we watched some Robot Chicken including one I hadn’t previously seen, and then I went to bed because I keep having insomnia.  Thankfully, not last night.  Miss Margot slept with me voluntarily last night (she got up to explore in the night and then came back to bed) and I slept until just before six.  So I actually feel like a human being this morning, and my son is showing signs of turning into a professional, and a friend stopped by, and tonight I gotta fetch la Margot to the kitty hospital and get her booster shots.

I hope to go swimming with the folks from Planet Bachelor tonight.  I may feel subpar with all these aches and pains, but I still have to exercise and walking is turning out to be problematic.  I mean, bus drivers are stopping between stops to pick me up, how often does THAT happen?

Oh, and I fixed my hat so it sits on my head better.

Oh, and Katie called me voluntarily and without asking for money.  And she asked me for my opinion about her hair, which is like asking Miss Margot for an interpretive dance on the Berlin Air-lift.  I said, “You’re twenty years old and stunningly gorgeous, do your hair however the hell you like!”  Now that’s what I call solid parental advice.

Self-checkout fun at Crappy Tire

The new local CT has a bunch of those newfangled self-checkout things. I generally use those when available as they seem faster than the alternative.

Yesterday I was there picking up a bread maker. When I started the checkout process, the attendant for the self-checkout stalls was patiently trying to explain something to the woman at the stall next to mine. Whatever. I scanned the breadmaker box and obediently placed it on the platform at the side of the self-checkout machine. So far so good. Keep in mind that I’ve had problems with these machines before, but usually the reason is obvious. Once a machine gagged on an item I was buying because it was flagged as a hazardous chemical. Thanks to 9/11 no doubt.

Anyway, things were chugging along and then the machine suddenly stopped and said “WAIT FOR ATTENDANT”. No indication of what the problem was. At this point I looked over at the attendant, but she was still wrangling with the woman in the next stall. Clearly she wouldn’t be able to help me until she finished with this person. So I started to pay attention to the conversation. Apparently, the woman couldn’t understand what was happening with her transaction when she tried to use her Canadian Tire money. Here’s how it works, and believe me it ain’t rocket science: you scan your items, the machine totals it all up, then asks if you have any CT money. If you do, you enter the amount. The amount you enter reduces your total. This was what the attendant kept repeating to the woman in the next stall, but she started getting mad and flailing around as if someone was trying to put one over on her. I lowered my head to my cart and started gently banging my head. People in the next line noticed too and I watched one woman start to form helpful words; but presumably she figured out that there was no getting through to this woman and didn’t bother.

Suddenly my machine woke up and my checkout process continued. Yay! So I carried on and was almost finished when just as suddenly it stopped again: WAIT FOR ATTENDANT. Argh! I glanced over at the attendant, who shot me a sympathetic look and continued to try to reassure the clueless woman that she was not being ripped off. I resumed my head-banging. Ms. Clueless finally threw up her hands, declared that “it doesn’t make any sense” and decided to ignore her doubts and move on. At that point my machine once again revived and I completed my transaction. Phew!

On my way past the attendant, I asked if she knew why my machine had stopped twice yet recovered each time apparently on its own. She told me, quietly, that she knew exactly why this had happened: because The Clueless Wonder’s rather large rear end, in all her flailing, had impinged upon the machine I was using and caused its scale to register weights not in alignment with the items I had purchased. So THAT’S why they make you put your items on the little platform!

I do not enjoy making fun of people with physical issues, especially not in public. That’s just not how I roll. But believe me, if I had known that this ignorant, enormously overweight woman was holding up my progress both because she was incredibly stupid AND because her fat behind was interfering with the machine, I would have politely invited her to move her fat, ignorant ass out of the way.

House buying

I have been watching the news, and paying attention to the details of my own life, and I am arriving at the sad conclusion that buying a house in Vancouver is looking increasingly like a stupid idea.  In fact, until the Olympics are paid off – and just as I predicted when we won the fool  things … how can you call it winning when it means grabbing your ankles first to be sexually toyed with and then to give your masters a convenient way of hanging you upsidedown to shake your pockets out – it’s turning into a black hole of corruption and price increases while Gordon’s chosen siphon off the goodies.

So local taxes will skyrocket – in the middle of a depression – and anybody left standing when the second and third waves of layoffs and downsizings will get to pay – and at the same time the government will use it as an excuse to avoid increasing services or even paying for them at all, and why not, everybody who belongs to a union is a socialist anyway, right?

I am going to buy something someplace else. I just haven’t figured out exactly where yet, or when, and there’s lots else I don’t yet know.

In Victoria

Paul and Katie and I made the crossing – my new boss, may he be praised and adored – another Finn, what is it with the Finns anyway? – let me out early enough that we could easily catch the six o’clock.  It is one of the new boats, the German ones, and it shudders and groans like it was a twenty year boat needing drydock.  Paul of course went and talked to a staffer and learned that the screws don’t submerge deep enough and the damned things burn fuel like a Viking funeral.  Argh, what the hell is wrong with this province?  Didn’t we learn about this kinda crap with the Fast Cat?  Argh I say again.

Work ended, amusingly enough, with me going to my new boss, who is, as far as I can tell, a man who prizes his ability to keep his facial expression under tight control, and saying, “Hey, somebody is going to come by you and say that I’m lazy, incompetent and a menace to the company!” “Which somebody?” “Really?  When she comes to complain can I ask her about the 15 emails I’ve sent her that she’s never answered?” Then his face twitched, and I burst out laughing.  What happened to Patricia?  Alaaaaaaaaaas, she went to the dark side and into Inside Sales.  LTGW said, tersely, “A good fit for her skill set.”  Well, duh.  Anyway, I have to come up with a good nickname for my new boss, because he richly deserves one and I am not going to use his real name because he does not have the same sprightly approach to life, work and all that as my previous (and much missed for the joy of her physical presence, I have to say) boss.

The middle part of work was also amusing.  The new VP engineering sat with my lunch bunch, which freaked the hell out of me.  VPs never sit at my table.  I looked around at the guys and said, uh oh.  New VP sez, What?  “Well I’m not really used to controlling my language,” to which the response was, “It’s okay, I was in the navy.”  “Not like this you weren’t” but of course that just meant that everybody at the table peppered the new VP with questions about life on a fast attack nuclear sub, for which he was the chief maintenance dude.  I should mention at this point that the new VP is in his mid forties, could give George Clooney a run for his money in terms of looks and charm, and is a triathlete.

SIMULTANEOUSLY ScaryClown and I asked if he’d ever been attacked by a giant squid.  Actually I got the question out first, but ScaryClown said, “I wanted to ask that!” Then we burst out laughing and gave each other a fist bump.  Our new squid overlords are turning out quite fine.

The rest of the day I sent angry emails, entered returns, made Tanya laugh, missed Cris, had yet ANOTHER email encounter with the WORST CUSTOMER EVER and wrote one email which triggered another email which said, “Oh yeah, we didn’t actually consult customer service about that.  My meeting, let me show it to you.”  Then I abruptly remembered that I have a new boss, and made a pretence of consulting him, and then he said, “Uh, I think that’s a meeting I want to attend… I have a few questions myself.”  So once again, I poked the bear and lived.  And my boss let me leave early.  And Paul let me drive.

Back to Victoria.  Lexi and Darwin -asleep and thus not evident- were here, as were the parents and Unca Barry.  Unca Barry had brought a really interesting documentary about the last sailing of a four masted cargo vessel around Cape Horn, which I didn’t watch because I was too busy blabbing with Lexi and Katie. 

I had a really good night’s sleep, although I miss wireless, because normally I sleep with my computer (what?  What?) and I just roll over in the morning and start surfing the internet. (Yes, I know that will have to change when the heavens open and I actually have a special somebody to sleep with on a regular basis, in the meantime, it’s how it is in my life.  At least it’s warm.)

Paul went off to stay with his bro, Dr. Filk, and will be back to collect me as we will be flying up the Island Highway to see his cousin Ruth IF the weather cooperates because it’s supposed to bucket snow.

Keith really wanted to come but somebody had to feed kitties.  Also, unlike Katie, he is actually physically and emotionally capable of getting here on his own; thus the requirement to have an adult always accompany her.

 

I can hear Darwin!!!! Time to go be a cousin.