Little furry animals
2004-08-19— Posted by: allegra
Winkie and Spud.
As you can see, the phrase ‘they get along as well as a dog and a cat’ really depends on the critters involved.
These animals own Mike, and crew-ell-eee force him to toil in the salt mines to buy them treats and keep them in luxurious (and remarkably work-free) accommodations. Winkie has very nice markings, in my opinion, a long and slender tail, and a one man cat kind of disposition. Spud is more of an obsession than a dog. Bone idle and a suck for attention, she coasts through life on her sunny personality.
nowhere close to enough sleep
2004-08-19— Posted by: allegra
In the words of the immortal Martha Ballard, my comforters are much as Job’s were.
My initial hunch that I would be better off not calling any of my friends about what’s going on right now was borne out; fortunately my family is being a lot more sensible about it. Nobody else believes – or appears to believe – that Katie will smarten up while she’s living with me; my loosey-goosey style of parenting would likely prevent this from happening. I go through phases when I want to kick her out, but they don’t last. I should steel my spine and just say, you don’t respect me, out you go. “She needs to go to someplace with a LOT of rules.” “You’ve done your best, it’s time to get out of the situation.” It’s like I’m the only person who believes she’ll smarten up, and I’m being gently rebuked for thinking so. The alternative, according to my friends, is that she’s going to end up dead, hard drug addicted or on the street selling herself or some dreadful combo thereof. Katie, if you’re reading this can you email (names deleted but available on request) and let them know that these – while interesting and dramatic life experiences – aren’t in your immediate plans? You might want to add something about how you have two parents, as well…. I mean, if you want to.
Interesting dreams. In one, Peter and Cheryl announced that they were going back to South Africa (and a very DIFFERENT lunch bunch all screamed about it, going on at length at what a bad idea it was (there were a bunch of people there, but it wasn’t my usual lunch bunch from work)). But they were adamant. That’s bloody weird, cause I can’t imagine them doing that except to visit.
Next, I was molested by forest trolls (picture the Egyptian god Bes except green and furry and two feet tall) and gotten beaten until I couldn’t see when I was spirited enough to bite one.
Then I was watching a giant picking up two little people, howling at them, “I’ll grind your bones to make my bread” at which point one said, “How unsavory!” and the other said, “How un …. sanitary!” Where’d that come from? Paul thinks he knows, see below. Also in other news from dreamland, Glen and I worked at the same place and seven people were laid off and we were both on notice that we were next and Glen said, “You’d better get your resume up to date!”
Then I had to fill out customs papers on a Hungarian typewriter. From the script of Starman “Weird you want, weird you get.” But I swear, officer, I did NOT melt that man’s lugwrench.
Snap back to reality, drum roll please. Paul was dreading going into work this morning, and rightly so. Air Canada skated out of bankruptcy by renegotiating all the union deals, all the deals with suppliers and creditors (same thing) and of course it made a deal with Cara. People on the bottom of the Cara Foods organization do NOT make what I consider a living wage (specially in THIS burg). Air Canada wrung concessions from Cara and then Cara blithely asked some very poorly paid, mostly immigrant, sandwich cutters and food preparers, if they could offer up some bone mass for the next Air Canada passengers’ meal in the form of wage concessions. I know that conservatives will argue that there is no moral difference between getting a 5% concession out of a regional pilot who makes 70K a year and getting a 5% concession out of a sandwich cutter who makes 20K a year, (and the market will reward sandwich cutters who improve their educations, etc.) but conservatism aside, there’s a practical difference. Full marks if you spot it. Anyway, Paul, who has already had his pay packet lightened by some hundreds of dollars a month (and is content to keep still for it if he keeps his job, true so far, and the management quits p*ssing away money on paint jobs and VPs of French Communication, which so far is not true – 27 VP’s for a company in bankruptcy protection???? I prob’ly don’t have the number right but Paul hauled out the org chart a while ago and we reviewed it with bile, liberally mixed with disbelieving fury), is furious on behalf of the Cara employees. He is so upset that I can’t repeat what he said because it’s the kind of things that makes lawyers turn green, then slowly flush. Anyway, Cara is on strike effective today, so I’m sure the food purveyors in the airports will be smart enough to make bag lunches for the masses – or will they? Capitalism is not as quick off the mark as everybody says it is. Sorry I’m writing so parenthetically, I’ve got a mind like a trash compactor.
I went over to Hank and Margaret’s last night. Terence was utterly charming – he kept running up to me and patting my leg and then running away. I collected ‘the story so far’ of the youth curriculum and at least we got that out of their basement – and into our front room. Paul grumbling throughout.
I have to confirm if it’s circle tonight and then we pick up the kids tomorrow. Another grisly day awaits. Okay, it isn’t grisly, I’m just spoiled. And seeing as how I’ve gone off, maybe it’s time for a shower.
Well, Pride Day went off reasonably well. I got a nasty sunburn on my neck and lightly crisped around my Anglo edges (both of my grandfathers were born in Angleterre after all and pappy is a redhead). Being in the parade is very different from seeing it.