I finally met my resolve and ventured downstairs. After weeks, no after months, of talking to myself about just "doing it", I was going to "do it". I am a bit of an oxymoron in some ways, well I guess we all are, but at times I will do things with such spontaneity and ease, that my friends are impressed and yet at other times, it can take months to build up to completing a simple task.
When I quit smoking, the lead up to the day was probably close to a year. It's been over six years now, so I guess how long it takes to finally do something isn't always what matters. On the other hand, that procrastination and foot dragging is and can be the most irritating thing about my character to me, so what is it like for people around me?
They must want to just bang me on the head in my sleep and hope that the after affect will render a new me. One that is decisive and proactive when it comes to my life.
But I digress, I was on my way downstairs, finally after several months of dreaming of this day and today I did better than going by myself, I convinced my mother that she ought to go with me.
The two of us headed down the hall together. Full of optimism about the future. I was happy. She was happy. We were a happy family. If there were a song about happy families, I'm sure we could have sung in unison on our way. I couldn't think of one so we opted to walk in silence with our happy thoughts instead.
I opened the door and showed my mom into the impressive room. I quickly introduced her to the various inhabitants and jumped on the one I claimed for myself.
"Take it easy, you should start out slowly."
"That's when you're new, I've done this so many times before, I don't need to start out slowly."
"You're going to hurt yourself."
"Look, I can make it go up and down. Just press it right here. I think I'll continue at this angle, that kind of feels good."
"Don't whine to me tomorrow, or later today when you realize that you've over done it."
"You have no faith in my capabilities, do you?"
It felt great and I instantly wondered why something that feels so good can be so hard to make yourself do. I'm usually game for things that feel good. It's one of my priorities in life and what I consider my motto: if it feels good, it's got to be ok and you should do it, if it hurts, then it must be bad.
After 25 minutes of strenuous walking on the Lifecycle Treadmill, I cooled down and got off. My feet felt like jello when they hit the floor and I was a little worried as I walked back to the apartment that perhaps I had been a little over zealous on my first trip to the exercise room after such a long absence.
Now two weeks later, my back is finally healed to the point that I can go back. I've been thinking about it all week. ;o)
Friday, January 28, 2005
Thursday, January 27, 2005
Psycho Test
I wrote a test today. It was a 2 hours and 15 min psychological test. There were 65 multiple choice questions with more than one correct answer per question and the trick was to pick the "best correct" answer.
If I am successful and obtain at least 42 out of 65, then I will be considered further for a competitive process for a Supervisor's position. This test is a screening tool used to widdle the hundreds of applications down to a more manageable number.
I felt pretty good about how I did on the test. That worries me. In the past, whenever I've felt really good about a test; I usually end up failing. Whenever I've felt really badly; I've ended up passing.
You can see the dilema. They've used a psychological test and clearly my cognitive abilities are in question and I will certainly be found out when the test is marked. What will I do then?
I really don't know why I continually torture myself by competing in these processes. I must be a bugger for punishment.
If I am successful and obtain at least 42 out of 65, then I will be considered further for a competitive process for a Supervisor's position. This test is a screening tool used to widdle the hundreds of applications down to a more manageable number.
I felt pretty good about how I did on the test. That worries me. In the past, whenever I've felt really good about a test; I usually end up failing. Whenever I've felt really badly; I've ended up passing.
You can see the dilema. They've used a psychological test and clearly my cognitive abilities are in question and I will certainly be found out when the test is marked. What will I do then?
I really don't know why I continually torture myself by competing in these processes. I must be a bugger for punishment.
Tuesday, January 25, 2005
Zig/Zag
Some days you are in the groove. Everything clicks, effortlessly. Parking spots appear right in front of the place you are going to; doors are held open for you by smiling, good looking, gentleman; the radio plays all your favourite tunes one after the other; your hair looks fantastic and all you did was stand there pointing the blow dryer in your direction, no extra effort needed because you are grooving in the groove.
I love it when that happens.
That is not what has been happening to me. I've been stuck on the scratch, zigging and zagging with great effort through the past 4 or 5 days.
My mojo isn't working anymore and I don't know why.
Communication is all out of whack. Apparently when I make a comment in response to someone's statement, I'm accused of over analyzing everything. I don't see it. I don't even realize I'm doing that, but I must be. It's not the same person that has accused me of this.
It seems to stem from my last post. Where I posted about my grandparent's all in good fun. Not meaning to be derogatory or anything like that. But somewhere in the cosmic stratosphere, someone didn't think it was funny. My grandfather called my mom on Thursday and said my grandmother really wasn't well and he was concerned.
I had to take the day off work to take my mom out to their place. She spent the night and the next day with great effort took my grandmother to the hospital where they spent the next 6 hours waiting while the hospital performed a number of tests.
In the end, it would seem that the worst of the Doctor's worries were allayed and they prescribed something to help my grandmother out.
When my grandfather called, I was really concerned. He does not call for just any little thing. In fact, they never ask for help unless it's absolutely necessary and perhaps they could be accused of not saying something sooner.
I was reminded again of their age and that their time with us could be ending at any moment. I felt guilty for all the things I never did or didn't say and I felt guilty for posting that bit about their Anniversary and my grandfather's joke.
Saturday brought us a nice winter storm and I headed out in the middle of it to drive to a friend's place for the night. My mom and daughter were angry for me tempting fate, but I went anyway. I needed to escape for an evening.
The drive was exhilarating, exciting and although it took me a longer time to get to my destination, it gave me time to myself to think.
My evening was a lot of fun, but I was constantly advised that I had misunderstood the meaning of what was being said, I was still zig zagging.
When I arrived home I checked my email to see that I had received two emails from people I don't know. The names didn't register with me. They were people who had commented on a post that I had on here that was about their family. I had hurt their feelings, inadvertently I might add.
I had copied a newspaper article and had started the post off with my own statement that went along the lines of "here's another example of how greed was the reason for people to lose their lives needlessly." I didn't go into a long diatribe about the issue, just made a statement and posted the article along with the newspaper that published it and the reporter's name. The family members that saw this posted on my blog, took offence and felt that I was making an opinion about things that I knew nothing about and besides it wasn't any of my business anyway.
They were right. It isn't any of my business, but it was a public piece of news and I was posting it to portray how much our civilization is in decay. It was a perfect example of how money can ruin everything.
I apologize for any anguish I may have caused to the family members by posting that article and have since deleted it with all the comments. I did not do it with the intention of hurting anyone.
This blog is my place to write about things that I find interesting, sad, funny, or annoying. If you stumbled on here because you were looking for real news, I'm sorry to disappoint, this is just random pieces of fluff that float out of my brain from time to time.
I love it when that happens.
That is not what has been happening to me. I've been stuck on the scratch, zigging and zagging with great effort through the past 4 or 5 days.
My mojo isn't working anymore and I don't know why.
Communication is all out of whack. Apparently when I make a comment in response to someone's statement, I'm accused of over analyzing everything. I don't see it. I don't even realize I'm doing that, but I must be. It's not the same person that has accused me of this.
It seems to stem from my last post. Where I posted about my grandparent's all in good fun. Not meaning to be derogatory or anything like that. But somewhere in the cosmic stratosphere, someone didn't think it was funny. My grandfather called my mom on Thursday and said my grandmother really wasn't well and he was concerned.
I had to take the day off work to take my mom out to their place. She spent the night and the next day with great effort took my grandmother to the hospital where they spent the next 6 hours waiting while the hospital performed a number of tests.
In the end, it would seem that the worst of the Doctor's worries were allayed and they prescribed something to help my grandmother out.
When my grandfather called, I was really concerned. He does not call for just any little thing. In fact, they never ask for help unless it's absolutely necessary and perhaps they could be accused of not saying something sooner.
I was reminded again of their age and that their time with us could be ending at any moment. I felt guilty for all the things I never did or didn't say and I felt guilty for posting that bit about their Anniversary and my grandfather's joke.
Saturday brought us a nice winter storm and I headed out in the middle of it to drive to a friend's place for the night. My mom and daughter were angry for me tempting fate, but I went anyway. I needed to escape for an evening.
The drive was exhilarating, exciting and although it took me a longer time to get to my destination, it gave me time to myself to think.
My evening was a lot of fun, but I was constantly advised that I had misunderstood the meaning of what was being said, I was still zig zagging.
When I arrived home I checked my email to see that I had received two emails from people I don't know. The names didn't register with me. They were people who had commented on a post that I had on here that was about their family. I had hurt their feelings, inadvertently I might add.
I had copied a newspaper article and had started the post off with my own statement that went along the lines of "here's another example of how greed was the reason for people to lose their lives needlessly." I didn't go into a long diatribe about the issue, just made a statement and posted the article along with the newspaper that published it and the reporter's name. The family members that saw this posted on my blog, took offence and felt that I was making an opinion about things that I knew nothing about and besides it wasn't any of my business anyway.
They were right. It isn't any of my business, but it was a public piece of news and I was posting it to portray how much our civilization is in decay. It was a perfect example of how money can ruin everything.
I apologize for any anguish I may have caused to the family members by posting that article and have since deleted it with all the comments. I did not do it with the intention of hurting anyone.
This blog is my place to write about things that I find interesting, sad, funny, or annoying. If you stumbled on here because you were looking for real news, I'm sorry to disappoint, this is just random pieces of fluff that float out of my brain from time to time.
Tuesday, January 18, 2005
Gift's Worth Giving
The following is a conversation between my mother and her father. I originally made an error when I said it was their 60th wedding anniversary. I stand corrected by my mother, it was their 68th wedding anniversary. They got married in 1937 which makes sense since my mother was born in 1940. Whew, glad I got that straightened out. My apologies to anyone that was mislead while reading the original version. ;o)
"Hi Dad, how are you?"
"Fine, just fine. Your mother and I have had a GREAT time today for our 68th Wedding Anniversary."
My mother felt bad that she had forgotten. She had been walking around all day trying to remember why January 16th, meant something.
"Well what do you expect Dad? You never made a big deal about your anniversary any other year, in fact, for years you never, ever mentioned it or did anything to celebrate, so how do you expect anyone to remember it now?"
"Yes I suppose you're right. I did something special for your mother anyway."
"That's nice, what did you do?"
"Well she woke up not feeling too well and then we discovered that she was all bunged up. So I gave her a suppository and waited until it was all over and then said, Happy Anniversary Mother!"
"Hi Dad, how are you?"
"Fine, just fine. Your mother and I have had a GREAT time today for our 68th Wedding Anniversary."
My mother felt bad that she had forgotten. She had been walking around all day trying to remember why January 16th, meant something.
"Well what do you expect Dad? You never made a big deal about your anniversary any other year, in fact, for years you never, ever mentioned it or did anything to celebrate, so how do you expect anyone to remember it now?"
"Yes I suppose you're right. I did something special for your mother anyway."
"That's nice, what did you do?"
"Well she woke up not feeling too well and then we discovered that she was all bunged up. So I gave her a suppository and waited until it was all over and then said, Happy Anniversary Mother!"
Sunday, January 16, 2005
Doubtful
Sometimes I really do feel like I have some psychic abilities, or perhaps that I am more intuitive now than I ever have been before. I get comments on how perceptive I am, all the time.
This is not comforting. There is definitely something to that old saying "Ignorance is bliss". I think that for years I preferred to doubt my intuition and perhaps I've written before on this subject, if so, I'm sorry to bore you but I really find the whole thing perplexing.
I can know something that someone is trying to hide from me long before they ever actually tell me about it. I get a feeling. I may not know all the details, but I am always very, very close.
Last weekend, I took my mother to the Public Storage to get her "important" papers. We weren't sure what they were packed in, but we were looking for last years income tax returns.
When we opened the locker, there were clear plastic containers with paperwork stored inside. We grabbed those and put them in the car. Then we picked up a couple of other useful items like a lamp and swiffer. It was bitter cold out that day and my mother was anxious to get back in the warm car. She kept telling me that we could go now that we had the containers with her papers.
I wasn't convinced, and something kept urging me towards a small box that was sitting high up on top of a pile of boxes against the wall. It was out of my reach but I knew I could get it if I got the swiffer back out of the car and used that to knock it down.
Ignoring my mother's calls for me to forget it, I asked her to get the swiffer for me and I proceeded to swat at it until it fell off the pile and into my arms.
"Can we go now?"
My mom was growing impatient with me and my determination to obtain this little box.
Shortly after arriving home, my mom told me that I was right about the box.
"What box?"
"The box you insisted that we get, have you forgotten already?"
Truth is that I had. I guess once I had it, I knew it was the one so I forgot about it.
"I decided to finally look in there for the papers after going through those other plastic ones and right on the top was my income tax return."
Little hairs stood up on the back of my neck. Once again, something inside of me pushed me to do something or to pursue an idea in search of an answer without any previous information to support that endeavour.
There are many other instances, too many to write about now, but once again I question why I continually doubt myself (especially when it comes to men) when I have always been proven right?
This is not comforting. There is definitely something to that old saying "Ignorance is bliss". I think that for years I preferred to doubt my intuition and perhaps I've written before on this subject, if so, I'm sorry to bore you but I really find the whole thing perplexing.
I can know something that someone is trying to hide from me long before they ever actually tell me about it. I get a feeling. I may not know all the details, but I am always very, very close.
Last weekend, I took my mother to the Public Storage to get her "important" papers. We weren't sure what they were packed in, but we were looking for last years income tax returns.
When we opened the locker, there were clear plastic containers with paperwork stored inside. We grabbed those and put them in the car. Then we picked up a couple of other useful items like a lamp and swiffer. It was bitter cold out that day and my mother was anxious to get back in the warm car. She kept telling me that we could go now that we had the containers with her papers.
I wasn't convinced, and something kept urging me towards a small box that was sitting high up on top of a pile of boxes against the wall. It was out of my reach but I knew I could get it if I got the swiffer back out of the car and used that to knock it down.
Ignoring my mother's calls for me to forget it, I asked her to get the swiffer for me and I proceeded to swat at it until it fell off the pile and into my arms.
"Can we go now?"
My mom was growing impatient with me and my determination to obtain this little box.
Shortly after arriving home, my mom told me that I was right about the box.
"What box?"
"The box you insisted that we get, have you forgotten already?"
Truth is that I had. I guess once I had it, I knew it was the one so I forgot about it.
"I decided to finally look in there for the papers after going through those other plastic ones and right on the top was my income tax return."
Little hairs stood up on the back of my neck. Once again, something inside of me pushed me to do something or to pursue an idea in search of an answer without any previous information to support that endeavour.
There are many other instances, too many to write about now, but once again I question why I continually doubt myself (especially when it comes to men) when I have always been proven right?
Thursday, January 13, 2005
Coincidence or Psychic Connection?
My sister and I are two years and two days apart in age. I'm the baby, just in case you are wondering. We practically hated one another when we were growing up but when we entered our teen years, we finally found an appreciation and acceptance for each other and became very close.
It's always been a little bit of a source of wonder for us over the years at how many times we find each other doing the same thing or thinking about the same thing even though we have not spoken to each other about it.
An example happened this week. I have not spoken to my sister for about two weeks. Both of us caught up in our busy lives. As I've already blogged about previously; I decided on Sunday to finally start sorting through some boxes that have been packed for far too long. I have quite enjoyed becoming reacquainted with old things and purging lots of junk that I do not need to be carrying around.
It almost feels like a rebirth or something and I'm sure it has everything to do with the New Year. I am a pack rat, so there is a lot of purging to be done, but my main goal is to get rid of the clutter and have a lovely tidy room that feels inviting and not revolting.
My sister called me Tuesday afternoon to chat and told me how she started to sort through all the junk in her bedroom closet and her bedroom. I was shocked. Once again, we are performing the same tasks without prior knowledge that the other one is doing the same thing. She was complaining about how she has created such a huge mess, pulling everything out of her closet in order to sort through, and I had done exactly the same thing. I had pulled 8 boxes out of my storage closet and have stuff strewn all over my bed, bedroom floor, dresser, wherever I can find a free bit of space.
That was the first coincidence. The second one was she asked me if I knew anything about reading Aura's. She has a small girl on her school bus who has suddenly realized that she can see aura's. She doesn't know that is what it's called or what exactly it is that she can see, but she told my sister that it's funny because her Mummy and Daddy can't see the colours but she can. She has been asking the other children on the bus to remove their hats so that she can see theirs. My sister has noticed her gazing above everyone's head and one day caught her looking above her own. She asked Catherine if she could see something and Catherine replied, "Oh yes I can see it, it's all pink and blue."
My sister is now curious to find out what the colours mean. This is so weird, but again, just the day prior while sorting through my boxes I stumbled across a book I had purchased years ago, Aura Reading for Beginners by Richard Webster. I thought it was funny to have this book come up to the surface after hiding for so many years because on New Year's Eve I was told by a lady that I had just met, that I had such a beautiful Aura that she knew we were going to be good friends. It's not too often that you have people speak of such things, and for my sister and I to have other's talking about our Aura's within a short time of one another is freaky.
So that's just an example of the type of thing that happens to us all the time and has for years. We always laugh and say we should have been twins.
What do you think? Coincidence or psychic connection?
It's always been a little bit of a source of wonder for us over the years at how many times we find each other doing the same thing or thinking about the same thing even though we have not spoken to each other about it.
An example happened this week. I have not spoken to my sister for about two weeks. Both of us caught up in our busy lives. As I've already blogged about previously; I decided on Sunday to finally start sorting through some boxes that have been packed for far too long. I have quite enjoyed becoming reacquainted with old things and purging lots of junk that I do not need to be carrying around.
It almost feels like a rebirth or something and I'm sure it has everything to do with the New Year. I am a pack rat, so there is a lot of purging to be done, but my main goal is to get rid of the clutter and have a lovely tidy room that feels inviting and not revolting.
My sister called me Tuesday afternoon to chat and told me how she started to sort through all the junk in her bedroom closet and her bedroom. I was shocked. Once again, we are performing the same tasks without prior knowledge that the other one is doing the same thing. She was complaining about how she has created such a huge mess, pulling everything out of her closet in order to sort through, and I had done exactly the same thing. I had pulled 8 boxes out of my storage closet and have stuff strewn all over my bed, bedroom floor, dresser, wherever I can find a free bit of space.
That was the first coincidence. The second one was she asked me if I knew anything about reading Aura's. She has a small girl on her school bus who has suddenly realized that she can see aura's. She doesn't know that is what it's called or what exactly it is that she can see, but she told my sister that it's funny because her Mummy and Daddy can't see the colours but she can. She has been asking the other children on the bus to remove their hats so that she can see theirs. My sister has noticed her gazing above everyone's head and one day caught her looking above her own. She asked Catherine if she could see something and Catherine replied, "Oh yes I can see it, it's all pink and blue."
My sister is now curious to find out what the colours mean. This is so weird, but again, just the day prior while sorting through my boxes I stumbled across a book I had purchased years ago, Aura Reading for Beginners by Richard Webster. I thought it was funny to have this book come up to the surface after hiding for so many years because on New Year's Eve I was told by a lady that I had just met, that I had such a beautiful Aura that she knew we were going to be good friends. It's not too often that you have people speak of such things, and for my sister and I to have other's talking about our Aura's within a short time of one another is freaky.
So that's just an example of the type of thing that happens to us all the time and has for years. We always laugh and say we should have been twins.
What do you think? Coincidence or psychic connection?
Tuesday, January 11, 2005
Happier?
I was looking at old photo's again. Yes from those boxes I'm sorting. Anyway, one in particular sort of struck me with the notion that I was very happy during that time. It was about a year after my husband had left and it was my daughter and myself living on our own in a small townhouse. The picture is her and I seated in the living/dining room with all kinds of birthday decorations. I had hung coloured streamers all around the room with co-ordinating balloons, fresh flowers on the table and a lovely pink table cloth. It was her birthday. I looked very happy.
Gazing at the picture and remembering that particular time in my life, I came to the conclusion that I was happier without a man in my life. Then wondered why I am not content now.
I was explaining this phenomenon to my co-worker last night and she quietly offered another take on the situation.
"Don't forget Shelly, when people are taking pictures it is generally for a special occasion and people are usually happy in the photos."
The simplicity of that statement made me burst out laughing as I remembered the long, lonely nights of the winter when I came home from work and after dinner, laid on the sofa with candles lit and listened to sad songs on my stereo.
Now wouldn't that have been a great picture?
Gazing at the picture and remembering that particular time in my life, I came to the conclusion that I was happier without a man in my life. Then wondered why I am not content now.
I was explaining this phenomenon to my co-worker last night and she quietly offered another take on the situation.
"Don't forget Shelly, when people are taking pictures it is generally for a special occasion and people are usually happy in the photos."
The simplicity of that statement made me burst out laughing as I remembered the long, lonely nights of the winter when I came home from work and after dinner, laid on the sofa with candles lit and listened to sad songs on my stereo.
Now wouldn't that have been a great picture?
Monday, January 10, 2005
Proportional
I decided to sort out some boxes that I haven't looked at in a few years. I'm not even going to think of how long they've remained unpacked, I'll leave it at a few. Most of the boxes I pulled out to be sorted had "Books" written on the top. I was finally arranging my bookcase in my bedroom with something that may seem to be a bit of a novelty item; books. Prior to this rearrangement, the bookcase I purchased three years ago from Ikea, had housed my cd collection. I didn't purchase it to house cd's, but that's just what happened after it was lovingly put together by my past boyfriend. He worked his magic with the screw driver and before I knew what he was doing, he had unpacked my whole cd collection and arranged it in the bookcase. I was a little miffed, but stifled my impatience because I knew it wouldn't take much to rearrange it later.
Funny how I grew accustomed to my new cd holder. It never seemed to bother me enough to find an alternate place for my cd's in order to fill it with my books. The perfect opportunity for this whole reorganization presented itself when we moved apartments a few months ago. I went out and bought a huge cd wallet, threw out all my cd cases and slipped my cd's into the pockets. Now I have three empty, lovely shelves to fill with my books.
Anyway, I digress, sorry. I seem to do that quite often. This weekend, I finally decided it was time to seek out my books and place them in their new home. I dragged 8 boxes into my bedroom yesterday and started on an afernoon of discovery.
Most of the boxes did house "some" books. But the contents were varied. Some of the boxes held photos, old journals, yearbooks, work correspondance, old greeting cards, some new, unused, now bent greeting cards, and letters.
Considering my previous post about how I multi-task, you can probably imagine how quickly the unpacking and organization went.
After working on it all day yesterday and yesterday evening, and this morning before going to work, I now have three shelves bulging with books and four boxes in the corner still to be sorted.
I did have a great time looking at old photos. There was one that was particularly interesting to me. By merely studying this old photo of myself, I have finally unleashed a deep, dark secret.
Now I know why I'm fat.
The picture was of a skinnier me. In fact, I can't even remember what it felt like to be that skinny.
But the real eye opener was not only was I skinny, but I have the most gigantic head. It's quite out of proportion on a skinny body. So now that I am fatter, I no longer look like a Bobble Head.
Funny how I grew accustomed to my new cd holder. It never seemed to bother me enough to find an alternate place for my cd's in order to fill it with my books. The perfect opportunity for this whole reorganization presented itself when we moved apartments a few months ago. I went out and bought a huge cd wallet, threw out all my cd cases and slipped my cd's into the pockets. Now I have three empty, lovely shelves to fill with my books.
Anyway, I digress, sorry. I seem to do that quite often. This weekend, I finally decided it was time to seek out my books and place them in their new home. I dragged 8 boxes into my bedroom yesterday and started on an afernoon of discovery.
Most of the boxes did house "some" books. But the contents were varied. Some of the boxes held photos, old journals, yearbooks, work correspondance, old greeting cards, some new, unused, now bent greeting cards, and letters.
Considering my previous post about how I multi-task, you can probably imagine how quickly the unpacking and organization went.
After working on it all day yesterday and yesterday evening, and this morning before going to work, I now have three shelves bulging with books and four boxes in the corner still to be sorted.
I did have a great time looking at old photos. There was one that was particularly interesting to me. By merely studying this old photo of myself, I have finally unleashed a deep, dark secret.
Now I know why I'm fat.
The picture was of a skinnier me. In fact, I can't even remember what it felt like to be that skinny.
But the real eye opener was not only was I skinny, but I have the most gigantic head. It's quite out of proportion on a skinny body. So now that I am fatter, I no longer look like a Bobble Head.
Sunday, January 09, 2005
A.D.D?
Not sure but perhaps my daughter is right. Maybe I do suffer from A.D.D. She diagnosed me last weekend after watching me multi-task while cleaning my bedroom. This is nothing new. I multi-task while doing most things. So right now as I'm writing this and trying to remember what it was that prompted that remark, I am coming up with a blank.
It may have been when I started to vacuum the livingroom carpet, because I went to get the vacuum cleaner to take to my bedroom, noticed that the livingroom needed a quick once over and so took a minute to do that.
Or it could have been when I went out to the kitchen to get a cup of tea and unloaded/loaded the dishwasher as I was waiting for the kettle to boil.
No, I don't think it was that. I bet it was when she walked into the livingroom and noticed me sitting on the sofa engrossed in a Movie on Tv. I was out there looking for something and became caught up in the program that was currently flashing across the screen.
Perhaps she become critical when she came into my room to check on my progress and found me on the computer copying cd's onto my hard drive.
I'm not sure what prompted that comment, but I was annoyed. I am NOT someone with A.D.D.!
It may have been when I started to vacuum the livingroom carpet, because I went to get the vacuum cleaner to take to my bedroom, noticed that the livingroom needed a quick once over and so took a minute to do that.
Or it could have been when I went out to the kitchen to get a cup of tea and unloaded/loaded the dishwasher as I was waiting for the kettle to boil.
No, I don't think it was that. I bet it was when she walked into the livingroom and noticed me sitting on the sofa engrossed in a Movie on Tv. I was out there looking for something and became caught up in the program that was currently flashing across the screen.
Perhaps she become critical when she came into my room to check on my progress and found me on the computer copying cd's onto my hard drive.
I'm not sure what prompted that comment, but I was annoyed. I am NOT someone with A.D.D.!
Wednesday, January 05, 2005
Proud to be Canadian
I just finished reading the BEST book that I have read in a long, long time. It was purchased on a whim while I was Christmas shopping one day. I'm one of those people that marketers love. They strategically place items to line the queue, for people just like me. We (spontaneous creatures)are responsible for significant increases in sales. I am happy to report that for once this unplanned purchase turned out to be perfect.
The title of the book is Clara Callen. The author, Richard B. Wright. See details here.
It definitely was a page turner for me and contained everything that I love, history, journal entries, old letters, sex, interesting personalities and references to other books. If you are looking for a good read, I highly recommend it.
The best part is it's written by a Canadian Author who lives in Southern Ontario (like me, the geographical part) and the protagonist lives in a small Ontario village, while her sister lives in New York City. He does a great job of displaying the subtle differences between the neighbouring countries. I also find it very hard to believe that a man was able to capture the essence of a woman so well. And not only one woman but three.
If you have a recommendation for a book that you particularly enjoyed, I'd appreciate eihter a comment or email. Thanks! I think we have about 4 months left of winter.
The title of the book is Clara Callen. The author, Richard B. Wright. See details here.
It definitely was a page turner for me and contained everything that I love, history, journal entries, old letters, sex, interesting personalities and references to other books. If you are looking for a good read, I highly recommend it.
The best part is it's written by a Canadian Author who lives in Southern Ontario (like me, the geographical part) and the protagonist lives in a small Ontario village, while her sister lives in New York City. He does a great job of displaying the subtle differences between the neighbouring countries. I also find it very hard to believe that a man was able to capture the essence of a woman so well. And not only one woman but three.
If you have a recommendation for a book that you particularly enjoyed, I'd appreciate eihter a comment or email. Thanks! I think we have about 4 months left of winter.
Tuesday, January 04, 2005
Ringing In The Night...
1:40am - Fire Alarm bells begin ringing furiously
- daughter jumps out of bed, runs to kitchen, opens window, grabs tea towel to swing at the smoke detector, realizes that it's not the smoke detector but rather it's the building fire alarm, turns to run into bedroom to throw on clothes
- mom sits up in bed flailing her arms towards her nightstand trying to shut the alarm off and then realizes this is not morning and it is not an alarm clock, she stumbles out into hall asking "What is it?"
- I am dreaming peacefully and soundly while mom and daughter are running about talking loudly. The alarm has been inserted nicely into my dream so that my sleep can continue uninterrupted. I can't remember now exactly what I was doing in my dream that the insert of a very loud alarm had no impact or rather improved the situation, perhaps I was in the middle of robbing some expensive jewellery from a museum and I accidentally tripped the alarm. Yes that's it and I was just about to crawl out the window to safety when both my mom and daughter ran into my room yelling "Get up it's a FIRE ALARM" and they interrupted the whole thing.
The moral of this story announced later today by my mother is: I cannot live on my own. It's too dangerous for my own good and therefore, I'm lucky that she is here with me and she will make sure to stay with me forever.
Oh happy days! ;o)
- daughter jumps out of bed, runs to kitchen, opens window, grabs tea towel to swing at the smoke detector, realizes that it's not the smoke detector but rather it's the building fire alarm, turns to run into bedroom to throw on clothes
- mom sits up in bed flailing her arms towards her nightstand trying to shut the alarm off and then realizes this is not morning and it is not an alarm clock, she stumbles out into hall asking "What is it?"
- I am dreaming peacefully and soundly while mom and daughter are running about talking loudly. The alarm has been inserted nicely into my dream so that my sleep can continue uninterrupted. I can't remember now exactly what I was doing in my dream that the insert of a very loud alarm had no impact or rather improved the situation, perhaps I was in the middle of robbing some expensive jewellery from a museum and I accidentally tripped the alarm. Yes that's it and I was just about to crawl out the window to safety when both my mom and daughter ran into my room yelling "Get up it's a FIRE ALARM" and they interrupted the whole thing.
The moral of this story announced later today by my mother is: I cannot live on my own. It's too dangerous for my own good and therefore, I'm lucky that she is here with me and she will make sure to stay with me forever.
Oh happy days! ;o)
Monday, January 03, 2005
A Glance at Shelly’s World of Christmas and New Year’s
02/01/05 10:15:03 PM
Currently Playing - Eric Clapton, Pilgrim
The holidays are over. It’s Sunday night and tomorrow most people will return to work. I don’t have to however. I fall into the Banks and Government category, so I have another day off. I’m happy. The mini vacation that I have taken has slipped by quickly.
On December 23, my last day of work before Christmas, I ended up staying home because of bad weather. The night before we received a fair amount of snowfall followed by freezing rain and the roads in the city were a mess. I didn’t fathom driving along the 401 to attempt to make it into work and could not believe that our office had not closed considering that the storm warning was still in effect with more freezing rain predicted. We were allowed to take a vacation day if we chose because of the weather. So I decided to do that and then spent the day fretting about whether or not I should try to drive in. What a waste of a vacation day! Here’s a picture of the parking lot of my apartment building. That is ice, not pavement.
Friday, December 24, my actual day of planned vacation, I drove my daughter’s boyfriend to catch a bus near my work early in the morning and decided I might as well go into work and tidy up a couple of things before my week off. I figured I would be at work for approximately two hours, it soon turned into 6. I didn’t mind. The atmosphere was festive with everyone in a cheerful mood, wondering what Santa would bring that night. Or they were in a festive mood thinking about the huge amounts of alcohol that could be consumed in the next few days. Not quite sure which, but perhaps the latter. In any event, it was fun at work that morning and when I finally left in the afternoon, I felt satisfied that I had at least accomplished something.
After I got home it was a bit of a rest before driving to pick up my daughter after she finished work. The mall parking lot was chaos with last minute shoppers running to get into the mall, already too late and what the hell are they doing still shopping at 6:00 pm on Christmas Eve? I thought I was the world’s worst procrastinator. Seems like I’m not. This year I was finished my Christmas shopping prior to December 24th and I helped a friend of mine, by going out to purchase the gifts that his child asked Santa for. It was fun.
Christmas Eve was very quiet. My mom, Melissa and I spent the evening nibbling on appetizers, watching TV, wrapping last minute gifts and talking. It was very pleasant. The next day we were expecting a visit from my cousin Bryan from Calgary. He was going to be driving his mother to the airport in the morning, so we invited him to come over for breakfast. The original plan was that Bryan was going to bring my Grandparent’s in to our place so that we could all spend Christmas together but my Grandmother’s arthritis flared up terribly the week leading up to Christmas and she was bedridden for most of it. She did not think she could stand the hour and a half drive in the car and although we were upset that they could not be here, we understood. Bryan was generous enough to offer to take dinner to Grandma and Grandpa’s and spend it with them so that they would not be alone.
I felt bad. Bryan was staying near my Grandparent’s house for the week to look after his mom’s dog’s while she was in Florida visiting with a terminally ill friend, who only has weeks left to live and we really wanted him to at least be able to come to our house for Christmas dinner. We haven’t seen much of him since he moved to Calgary two years ago. I offered for us to take dinner out there, but my Grandparent’s said no and Bryan agreed. Their apartment is small and he reassured us that he really didn’t mind.
Bryan’s father, my mom’s brother and his wife had left the week before Christmas to drive to Florida in their fifth wheel and new trailer. They plan to be away for 3 or 4 months while they travel through the Southern States to California. They live near my Grandparent’s and my Grandpa especially misses my uncle when he is away because he likes to go there and putter around the garage with him.
They ended up having a good time it seems, and Bryan cooked a delicious dinner for them.
My sister had originally invited us to go to her place for Christmas dinner and we have done so for the past few years. I had declined her invitation and told her of our plans for Bryan and my Grandparent’s to come here instead. She was disappointed but understood.
Dec 25th, 2004
Christmas arrived in spite of all the plan changes and upsets. We were still going to have some company, it was just for breakfast and not dinner. We thought that perhaps we would wait until after our company left to open our gifts but when we got up in the morning we couldn’t resist taking the time to rip them open. We really had to rush though, if we wanted to have breakfast ready for when Bryan arrived. We weren’t really sure what time he would get here, but thought it was going to be around 10:00am. We were right because around 9:30 the telephone rang and he was in our lobby.
Melissa’s father came over for a couple of hours with Melissa’s half brother’s. That was a lot of fun. They are ages 7 and 5 and were very excited about all the gifts Melissa had bought them. She put tags on some of them from Santa and told them that he had left them here for them. They never asked why. I guess from they figure that’s cool, Santa gives us gifts at two houses, not just one.
Our company had all departed by 2:00pm and the apartment was very quiet. The three of us sitting around looking at the gifts sitting naked under the sparkling tree and I couldn’t help but feel this huge let down. I don’t know if everyone feels that way after all the excitement of preparing for the day or not, but I usually do. Making a big dinner for the three of us seemed silly but I had purchased a 15 pound turkey, expecting guests and could do nothing but cook it up.
The turkey looked better than it tasted. I don’t know why, but I did not enjoy it at all. I had purchased a fresh turkey from this great butcher shop and my mouth had been watering all week for it. It may have been the fact that there were straggling feathers that I had to pull out before I shoved it into the oven or maybe the blood that needed to be washed off the breast, I’m not sure, but I could hardly eat it. I prefer to see my food in cello wrap with little indication that it was actually an animal or alive at one time. I know that is silly and I would have to get over it if I was ever in a situation that required me to survive by hunting, but I don’t have to hunt for my food so I prefer not to think of it as an animal.
We were all a little down in the mouth, thinking of Bryan and my Grandparent’s in Bowmanville, my sister and her family in Etobicoke and us sitting there in Mississauga. That’s not what it’s all about. It is to be together. At least that is what we prefer. I always tease my mother that she is always hoping for the perfect family Christmas and never gets it. She has a vision in her mind of her family sitting around a table, overflowing with good food, laughing and talking amicably with one another while she flits from the kitchen to dining room with food and drinks. That has never happened, will most likely never happen but every year she anticipates it and drives me completely bonkers trying to obtain it. She forgets who her relatives are though. She does not have the Cleaver’s as relatives. Our family resembles the Simpson’s more, slightly dysfunctional but definitely humorous. I try not to burst her bubble too much, but I gently try to remind her of her family’s personalities and the fact that they do not view Christmas as a big deal, but rather just another day. If I see that it has not quite sunk in, I take her down a path of Christmas’s past and then she sees my point.
I usually get called Scrooge and other derogatory Christmas hating names, but it is not that I hate Christmas. I love Christmas just as much as the next person. What I hate is all the disappointment that is brought to people on this day. There is so much emphasis on people getting together to be jolly and happy, exchanging expensive gifts, that it does put a lot of pressure on people that are either on their own in this world or do not have the money to buy gifts like most people do. So they feel inadequate when they compare themselves to the fake models in the ads and on TV that inundate us at every turn, for two to three months before the actual day.
I see the disappointment in my own family every year with my mother as she tries desperately to make everything perfect for her parent’s and never receives the acknowledgement that she is looking for. That’s been difficult for me to figure out; what it was about Christmas that I didn’t like, but finally I can see it and understand it. Naturally I love my Mom and I don’t like to see her sad, which means I have expectations that Melissa and I can make up for the inadequacies of affection from her parent’s. It doesn’t work that way though. If you have a hole in your heart, it is not filled up by someone else. You may love someone else, but you will still have that hole.
We were together though, the three of us and although we would have had more fun with a full house, it was lovely in it’s own way. It was a moment that the three of us had together, three women, three generations in one house at Christmas.
Dec 26th, 2004
We were going to trek out to see my Grandparent’s today, but inclement weather kept us closer to home. We went to my sister’s instead. It was a fun afternoon. My sister talked about how delicious her turkey had been but that they missed having us at the table. Her boys even remarked that it didn’t feel like Christmas without us there. So that does it, next year we go to Debbie’s for dinner. I promise not to grumble about having to get out of my pj’s and drive somewhere, because I know that the inconvenience will certainly be worth it to enjoy Christmas dinner with family.
Dec 27th, 2004
I took Melissa to Collingwood to visit her Grandparent’s (her father’s parent’s) today. They are not too well and it’s always an emotional visit. I find it very sad to see how frail they have become since our last visit. In spite of that, it was very nice to see and talk to them again. We had some laughs as we reminisced of old times and got caught up with news of family members that we have lost contact with. News of the Tsunami finally sunk in for me. I could not comprehend and I’m sure like most was shocked by the images on the television of people being washed away by the unrelenting waters. It’s certainly made everything seem so silly and insignificant.
Dec 28th, 2004
Melissa had to work today, but Mom and I went out to Bowmanville for our visit with Grandma and Grandpa. Bryan was still in town, so I texted him when we arrived and he came over to visit with us. It’s so nice to get the opportunity to talk to him and get caught up with his exciting life. He has a very good job and is always travelling, plus he has just told us of his plans to go back to school. He wants to be a lawyer, always has and has decided that he should not wait any longer. He’s 35 now and the terminally ill family friend that his mother is visiting is only 38 and I guess that was a wake up call to Bryan to live his life.
December 29th, 2004.
Mom and I spent the day at the Eye Doctor’s, for the most part sitting in the shabby waiting area eagerly waiting for him to call her name. It was a very busy office for the week between Christmas and New Year’s. We met two nice people while we waited and I read several chapters of my new book. So it was a kind of pleasant day.
I just found it interesting that a practise with four Doctor’s, all specialists, could be working in such a dismal space. The chairs were old and uncomfortable. The receptionist’s desk was a cheap, you build it, akin to something from Ikea but of cheaper quality, perhaps an old Woolworth’s version. Her chair looked brand new and modern, but flimsy and did not appear to offer much support. It didn’t seem to matter, she hardly had a moment to sit, she was busy rushing from one desk to another. Nothing was computerised which I found to be the most interesting thing about the decor. She was typing letters, envelopes and handwriting appointments onto paper planners that were stuffed in ragged edged file folders. A table that offered more space to the side of her desk was an old, shabby vanity that was in desperate need of a new paint job.
Two friendly ladies spoke to us when they heard my mother and I discussing the fact that we had been waiting over an hour past her appointment and still had not been called. They had been waiting for two. That was comforting to know that we had not been forgotten. The only Doctor working was whirling around in a rush trying to multi-task as much as possible while his abrupt receptionist swiftly dealt with the non stop telephone calls.
Another gentleman struck up a conversation with my Mother and I was hopeful for a moment that perhaps she had found a new Dad for me, but then he mentioned something about a wife, so I tried to remain pleasant and hide my disappointment. He was extremely interesting and knowledgeable about our fair city. I was more than disappointed that the Doctor interrupted our conversation by calling my mother’s name when he did.
The Doctor was very pleasant and gave mom some good news about her eyes. It seems the bug like spec that is in her peripheral vision is nothing to worry about. Her retina is not detaching, but the spec is a floater and does come with age. She has the beginnings of cataracts but most likely will not need any type of surgery for them for years. The wait was worth hearing something positive. I was wrong, her body isn’t totally shutting down, only parts.
December 30th, 2004
My first day to do what I pleased during my week of vacation. I went to my friend’s for dinner tonight. Nice treat, beautiful steak, great conversation and laughter and home at a half decent time.
December 31, 2004
New Year’s Eve, and I’m rushing around the city to return Christmas gifts with Melissa. The agenda is to get in, get it done and get out as quickly as possible.
I am going to Orillia tonight and would like to be on the road early. I always have good intentions. My friend laughed when I told him of my plans. He knows me too well and realised that I would not arrive at the time I was proclaiming but would most likely arrive an hour or two later, and I did. I had a great time anyway. We went to a house party. It was very casual and the conversation was great. It was fun to make some new friends.
Jan 1, 2005
Spent the day recuperating from last night’s frivolities. It’s not a good idea to mix wine with shooter’s and champagne. Still it was fun. Gravol anyone? Drove home late after hearing that we were in for freezing rain over night. The drive was great. Roads were dry, the sky was covered with huge fluffy clouds and the moon looked like a golden bowl as half of it was covered with fluffiness. I love driving at night. I usually drive faster but tonight I drove slow and enjoyed the quiet aloneness.
That’s what I’ve been up to for the past several days. Not too exciting but busy enough. I’m looking forward to returning to my routine life though. I’ve been lazing around far too much the past couple of days and could go into deep hibernation if something doesn’t force me to venture outside.
Currently Playing - Eric Clapton, Pilgrim
The holidays are over. It’s Sunday night and tomorrow most people will return to work. I don’t have to however. I fall into the Banks and Government category, so I have another day off. I’m happy. The mini vacation that I have taken has slipped by quickly.
On December 23, my last day of work before Christmas, I ended up staying home because of bad weather. The night before we received a fair amount of snowfall followed by freezing rain and the roads in the city were a mess. I didn’t fathom driving along the 401 to attempt to make it into work and could not believe that our office had not closed considering that the storm warning was still in effect with more freezing rain predicted. We were allowed to take a vacation day if we chose because of the weather. So I decided to do that and then spent the day fretting about whether or not I should try to drive in. What a waste of a vacation day! Here’s a picture of the parking lot of my apartment building. That is ice, not pavement.
Friday, December 24, my actual day of planned vacation, I drove my daughter’s boyfriend to catch a bus near my work early in the morning and decided I might as well go into work and tidy up a couple of things before my week off. I figured I would be at work for approximately two hours, it soon turned into 6. I didn’t mind. The atmosphere was festive with everyone in a cheerful mood, wondering what Santa would bring that night. Or they were in a festive mood thinking about the huge amounts of alcohol that could be consumed in the next few days. Not quite sure which, but perhaps the latter. In any event, it was fun at work that morning and when I finally left in the afternoon, I felt satisfied that I had at least accomplished something.
After I got home it was a bit of a rest before driving to pick up my daughter after she finished work. The mall parking lot was chaos with last minute shoppers running to get into the mall, already too late and what the hell are they doing still shopping at 6:00 pm on Christmas Eve? I thought I was the world’s worst procrastinator. Seems like I’m not. This year I was finished my Christmas shopping prior to December 24th and I helped a friend of mine, by going out to purchase the gifts that his child asked Santa for. It was fun.
Christmas Eve was very quiet. My mom, Melissa and I spent the evening nibbling on appetizers, watching TV, wrapping last minute gifts and talking. It was very pleasant. The next day we were expecting a visit from my cousin Bryan from Calgary. He was going to be driving his mother to the airport in the morning, so we invited him to come over for breakfast. The original plan was that Bryan was going to bring my Grandparent’s in to our place so that we could all spend Christmas together but my Grandmother’s arthritis flared up terribly the week leading up to Christmas and she was bedridden for most of it. She did not think she could stand the hour and a half drive in the car and although we were upset that they could not be here, we understood. Bryan was generous enough to offer to take dinner to Grandma and Grandpa’s and spend it with them so that they would not be alone.
I felt bad. Bryan was staying near my Grandparent’s house for the week to look after his mom’s dog’s while she was in Florida visiting with a terminally ill friend, who only has weeks left to live and we really wanted him to at least be able to come to our house for Christmas dinner. We haven’t seen much of him since he moved to Calgary two years ago. I offered for us to take dinner out there, but my Grandparent’s said no and Bryan agreed. Their apartment is small and he reassured us that he really didn’t mind.
Bryan’s father, my mom’s brother and his wife had left the week before Christmas to drive to Florida in their fifth wheel and new trailer. They plan to be away for 3 or 4 months while they travel through the Southern States to California. They live near my Grandparent’s and my Grandpa especially misses my uncle when he is away because he likes to go there and putter around the garage with him.
They ended up having a good time it seems, and Bryan cooked a delicious dinner for them.
My sister had originally invited us to go to her place for Christmas dinner and we have done so for the past few years. I had declined her invitation and told her of our plans for Bryan and my Grandparent’s to come here instead. She was disappointed but understood.
Dec 25th, 2004
Christmas arrived in spite of all the plan changes and upsets. We were still going to have some company, it was just for breakfast and not dinner. We thought that perhaps we would wait until after our company left to open our gifts but when we got up in the morning we couldn’t resist taking the time to rip them open. We really had to rush though, if we wanted to have breakfast ready for when Bryan arrived. We weren’t really sure what time he would get here, but thought it was going to be around 10:00am. We were right because around 9:30 the telephone rang and he was in our lobby.
Melissa’s father came over for a couple of hours with Melissa’s half brother’s. That was a lot of fun. They are ages 7 and 5 and were very excited about all the gifts Melissa had bought them. She put tags on some of them from Santa and told them that he had left them here for them. They never asked why. I guess from they figure that’s cool, Santa gives us gifts at two houses, not just one.
Our company had all departed by 2:00pm and the apartment was very quiet. The three of us sitting around looking at the gifts sitting naked under the sparkling tree and I couldn’t help but feel this huge let down. I don’t know if everyone feels that way after all the excitement of preparing for the day or not, but I usually do. Making a big dinner for the three of us seemed silly but I had purchased a 15 pound turkey, expecting guests and could do nothing but cook it up.
The turkey looked better than it tasted. I don’t know why, but I did not enjoy it at all. I had purchased a fresh turkey from this great butcher shop and my mouth had been watering all week for it. It may have been the fact that there were straggling feathers that I had to pull out before I shoved it into the oven or maybe the blood that needed to be washed off the breast, I’m not sure, but I could hardly eat it. I prefer to see my food in cello wrap with little indication that it was actually an animal or alive at one time. I know that is silly and I would have to get over it if I was ever in a situation that required me to survive by hunting, but I don’t have to hunt for my food so I prefer not to think of it as an animal.
We were all a little down in the mouth, thinking of Bryan and my Grandparent’s in Bowmanville, my sister and her family in Etobicoke and us sitting there in Mississauga. That’s not what it’s all about. It is to be together. At least that is what we prefer. I always tease my mother that she is always hoping for the perfect family Christmas and never gets it. She has a vision in her mind of her family sitting around a table, overflowing with good food, laughing and talking amicably with one another while she flits from the kitchen to dining room with food and drinks. That has never happened, will most likely never happen but every year she anticipates it and drives me completely bonkers trying to obtain it. She forgets who her relatives are though. She does not have the Cleaver’s as relatives. Our family resembles the Simpson’s more, slightly dysfunctional but definitely humorous. I try not to burst her bubble too much, but I gently try to remind her of her family’s personalities and the fact that they do not view Christmas as a big deal, but rather just another day. If I see that it has not quite sunk in, I take her down a path of Christmas’s past and then she sees my point.
I usually get called Scrooge and other derogatory Christmas hating names, but it is not that I hate Christmas. I love Christmas just as much as the next person. What I hate is all the disappointment that is brought to people on this day. There is so much emphasis on people getting together to be jolly and happy, exchanging expensive gifts, that it does put a lot of pressure on people that are either on their own in this world or do not have the money to buy gifts like most people do. So they feel inadequate when they compare themselves to the fake models in the ads and on TV that inundate us at every turn, for two to three months before the actual day.
I see the disappointment in my own family every year with my mother as she tries desperately to make everything perfect for her parent’s and never receives the acknowledgement that she is looking for. That’s been difficult for me to figure out; what it was about Christmas that I didn’t like, but finally I can see it and understand it. Naturally I love my Mom and I don’t like to see her sad, which means I have expectations that Melissa and I can make up for the inadequacies of affection from her parent’s. It doesn’t work that way though. If you have a hole in your heart, it is not filled up by someone else. You may love someone else, but you will still have that hole.
We were together though, the three of us and although we would have had more fun with a full house, it was lovely in it’s own way. It was a moment that the three of us had together, three women, three generations in one house at Christmas.
Dec 26th, 2004
We were going to trek out to see my Grandparent’s today, but inclement weather kept us closer to home. We went to my sister’s instead. It was a fun afternoon. My sister talked about how delicious her turkey had been but that they missed having us at the table. Her boys even remarked that it didn’t feel like Christmas without us there. So that does it, next year we go to Debbie’s for dinner. I promise not to grumble about having to get out of my pj’s and drive somewhere, because I know that the inconvenience will certainly be worth it to enjoy Christmas dinner with family.
Dec 27th, 2004
I took Melissa to Collingwood to visit her Grandparent’s (her father’s parent’s) today. They are not too well and it’s always an emotional visit. I find it very sad to see how frail they have become since our last visit. In spite of that, it was very nice to see and talk to them again. We had some laughs as we reminisced of old times and got caught up with news of family members that we have lost contact with. News of the Tsunami finally sunk in for me. I could not comprehend and I’m sure like most was shocked by the images on the television of people being washed away by the unrelenting waters. It’s certainly made everything seem so silly and insignificant.
Dec 28th, 2004
Melissa had to work today, but Mom and I went out to Bowmanville for our visit with Grandma and Grandpa. Bryan was still in town, so I texted him when we arrived and he came over to visit with us. It’s so nice to get the opportunity to talk to him and get caught up with his exciting life. He has a very good job and is always travelling, plus he has just told us of his plans to go back to school. He wants to be a lawyer, always has and has decided that he should not wait any longer. He’s 35 now and the terminally ill family friend that his mother is visiting is only 38 and I guess that was a wake up call to Bryan to live his life.
December 29th, 2004.
Mom and I spent the day at the Eye Doctor’s, for the most part sitting in the shabby waiting area eagerly waiting for him to call her name. It was a very busy office for the week between Christmas and New Year’s. We met two nice people while we waited and I read several chapters of my new book. So it was a kind of pleasant day.
I just found it interesting that a practise with four Doctor’s, all specialists, could be working in such a dismal space. The chairs were old and uncomfortable. The receptionist’s desk was a cheap, you build it, akin to something from Ikea but of cheaper quality, perhaps an old Woolworth’s version. Her chair looked brand new and modern, but flimsy and did not appear to offer much support. It didn’t seem to matter, she hardly had a moment to sit, she was busy rushing from one desk to another. Nothing was computerised which I found to be the most interesting thing about the decor. She was typing letters, envelopes and handwriting appointments onto paper planners that were stuffed in ragged edged file folders. A table that offered more space to the side of her desk was an old, shabby vanity that was in desperate need of a new paint job.
Two friendly ladies spoke to us when they heard my mother and I discussing the fact that we had been waiting over an hour past her appointment and still had not been called. They had been waiting for two. That was comforting to know that we had not been forgotten. The only Doctor working was whirling around in a rush trying to multi-task as much as possible while his abrupt receptionist swiftly dealt with the non stop telephone calls.
Another gentleman struck up a conversation with my Mother and I was hopeful for a moment that perhaps she had found a new Dad for me, but then he mentioned something about a wife, so I tried to remain pleasant and hide my disappointment. He was extremely interesting and knowledgeable about our fair city. I was more than disappointed that the Doctor interrupted our conversation by calling my mother’s name when he did.
The Doctor was very pleasant and gave mom some good news about her eyes. It seems the bug like spec that is in her peripheral vision is nothing to worry about. Her retina is not detaching, but the spec is a floater and does come with age. She has the beginnings of cataracts but most likely will not need any type of surgery for them for years. The wait was worth hearing something positive. I was wrong, her body isn’t totally shutting down, only parts.
December 30th, 2004
My first day to do what I pleased during my week of vacation. I went to my friend’s for dinner tonight. Nice treat, beautiful steak, great conversation and laughter and home at a half decent time.
December 31, 2004
New Year’s Eve, and I’m rushing around the city to return Christmas gifts with Melissa. The agenda is to get in, get it done and get out as quickly as possible.
I am going to Orillia tonight and would like to be on the road early. I always have good intentions. My friend laughed when I told him of my plans. He knows me too well and realised that I would not arrive at the time I was proclaiming but would most likely arrive an hour or two later, and I did. I had a great time anyway. We went to a house party. It was very casual and the conversation was great. It was fun to make some new friends.
Jan 1, 2005
Spent the day recuperating from last night’s frivolities. It’s not a good idea to mix wine with shooter’s and champagne. Still it was fun. Gravol anyone? Drove home late after hearing that we were in for freezing rain over night. The drive was great. Roads were dry, the sky was covered with huge fluffy clouds and the moon looked like a golden bowl as half of it was covered with fluffiness. I love driving at night. I usually drive faster but tonight I drove slow and enjoyed the quiet aloneness.
That’s what I’ve been up to for the past several days. Not too exciting but busy enough. I’m looking forward to returning to my routine life though. I’ve been lazing around far too much the past couple of days and could go into deep hibernation if something doesn’t force me to venture outside.
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