Two-Timing Addict

I arrive home late from work after yet another long day.  I am bleary eyed as I pull into the garage and make my way up to the apartment.

Thankfully Mom has supper holding for me, so that my free time is not wasted on preparing a meal.

After a day of fielding questions, attending meetings, long drawn out conversations with peer on how to avert day-to-day disasters, I yearn for some mindless recreation.

I am entitled to that.  I work hard and I don't think I should feel guilty one little bit.

It's the obsession, that at times, causes me to question how far I will go to satisfy it? 

It already pushes me to rush through the daily small talk with Mom and Daughter, so that I can excuse myself and get down to what I really want to do.

Is that wrong?  Should I be seeking professional help?

It's not like the two strangers or my friend in Ottawa knew what was going on!  Discretion is something that is not used enough these days, it seems.  Nobody was hurt because of my addiction. 

In reality, because of this obsession and my ability to multi-task, I actually gave of myself to three different people and therefore, unselfishly made a difference in their day, plus satisfied my voracious craving all at the same time.

But the best part was that I actually won BOTH of the simultaneous backgammon games while maintaining a chat with Ottawa friend!

I'm proud!  That my friends is an example of multi-tasking at it's best.

But I cannot take all the credit for being a master of multi-tasking.  Some of it should go to the inferior chat option in the "XP Internet backgammon" game that allowed me to appear present by occasionally choosing varied text from a drop down menu.  Secretly though, I was really concentrating on the other game I was playing in Shockwave.  It has a normal chat feature that you can utilize in between the timed moves. 

My patient Ottawa friend, who I was chatting with in messenger, should also be thanked for waiting longer than normal for my responses...but truth be known, he was multi-tasking too.

A Sucker is Born

Everyone has heard that saying "a sucker is born every minute".  Well on July 22, 1961 at the precise moment I was born, VOILA!!  Yes a sucker.

I am regarded as an intelligent individual at work and in my personal life but every now and then I experience what I refer to as my blonde moments and on Tues night it was no different.

Exhausted from working a twelve hour day I arrived home eager to grab a bite to eat and go to bed.  The first day back to work after a long weekend is brutal.  I am better off not having any vacation days or long weekends because returning to work kills me.  I end up having to make up for that day off by working extra long days for the next week.

My mother had my dinner ready to go and looked at me with scrutinizing eyes.  Mothers never stop being mothers.  She was checking to make sure her baby was ok.

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrnggg, brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrnnngg, brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrnnnnnng.

"Jezus it never fails. Every night, just as you are about to eat that damn phone rings. 

"Hello", my mothers voice automatically reverted to her phony telephone answering voice.

"Just a moment, please."

With one hand over the handset my mother warned me that it was just a telemarketer and that I should end the call as soon as possible so that I could eat my dinner.

"Hello.  This is Ms. Snow.  No there is no Mr..."

For twenty five minutes I listened to the gentleman with the Jamaican accent from New York explain that I had won a prize from a ballet that I had purportedly completed last Dec 18th, 2005.

I don't remember completing a ballet and he said the sponsor was the Marriott hotel.  Maybe I did.  How would I know.  It's difficult for me to remember what I did an hour ago.

My instinct was screaming that it was just a scam, to hang up, but my curiosity made me hang onto the phone and listen to him anyway while my dinner sat on the counter getting cold.

My mother was in a rage that I was letting her good cooking decay in favour of listening to a scam artist.  To display her dissatisfaction with my choice she continually walked in and out of the kitchen where I was standing with the receiver to my ear and ran the faucets, clanged pots, loudly complained about ignorant people phoning in the evening to sell crap and various other techniques deployed to encourage me to hang up.

When they didn't work, she resorted to yelling out loudly "Hang up the phone on the sucker.  He's just trying to rip you off.  How stupid can you be?"

It may have been her overt attempts to control the situation that led me to continue the conversation and waste more of my time, but each time she disrupted my train of thought with noise, I had to ask him to repeat the verbiage that I just lost and so it went on and on.

After twenty five minutes of this action, I had the directions in my hand of where to pick up my prize and his name and phone number.  My appointment would be just two days away at 7:00pm. 

I was a guaranteed winner of either a cruise of the Bahamas, completely paid all air, food, drink etc including the air fare from Toronto to Miami, a 60" Plasma TV,  a week at Hilton Head along with golf clubs, or a mini vacation which was accommodation only for a week in either Florida or Mexico.

I knew before I went that I would win the trip without the air. 

I really wanted the Plasma TV.  I had already argued with my mom and my daughter that I was going to give it to my friend, who had just spoken to me the week before about how he wanted to get a plasma TV and we even mentally rearranged his living room in order to give the optimum viewing angle. 

In my mind, it was fate.  Why would I have a conversation with someone about a Plasma TV and then within days of that conversation be advised that I had potentially won one.

I am always intrigued by the coincidences in life.  Plus I'm a romantic so the notion of this happening because it was meant to, ensured that I arrived at the location on the date and time that had been arranged and no matter how much I told myself it was a scam to sell me timesharing or something else; I could not stay away.

The conference room just off the lobby was filled with people sitting at tables talking to one another.  A gentleman announced that the presentation would begin in a few moments.  I was given a form to complete and told to wait until someone came to get me. 

Within seconds of handing my completed form in, a young woman came and called my name.  I stood up and she started to walk away from the conference room.  I was waiting for her to tell me to take a seat in the room and that I would be viewing an hour long presentation.

She did not.  Instead she advised me that because I was a guaranteed winner, I did not have to sit through the presentation but I could go to the Prize room to draw a ballet and see what I won.

I was impressed.  The guy on the phone kept telling me that I would not have to see a presentation and that all I had to do was draw a ballet and claim my prize.  Maybe he wasn't lying after all.

Ha!  Well he was.  I am sure that all the ballots in the cylinder were all the same prize.  The same as the prize I won, which was the Mini Vacation to Florida or Mexico without the air fare and with so many restrictions and rules that I can't even be bothered to complete my name and address on the front in order to get the prize.

So it's true.  A sucker is born every minute and I'm one of them!

Clapton - ized, Again!

I'm still glowing from the experience last night at the Eric Clapton/Robert Cray concert.  It was without a doubt, the absolute BEST concert that I have attended.

I think I may have said the same thing the last time I went to an Eric Clapton concert but this one was better than the last.  The thing that set this concert apart, in my own opinion, was the addition of Robert Cray and Derek Trucks. 

Imagine for a moment, the opportunity to see three of the greatest guitarists on one stage playing together.  It was mind-blowing.  Listening to live music is one of my favourite things to do. 

Yesterday afternoon, prior to leaving for the concert, I went onto Napster and purchased Eric Clapton's Back Home cd and Robert Cray's Twenty.  Jack and I played them on the way into the city.  It's a great way to get in the mood.

I'm actually listening to them again now, as I write this.

The Air Canada Centre was packed.  We were in section 302, row 1, seats 11 and 12, which was dead centre in that section.  It was far higher than what I would have liked, but I consider myself lucky to have gotten tickets.  I had been lax in checking upcoming concerts because financially, I felt that I couldn't afford to be going to too many concerts.  For that reason, I had been deleting my HOB concert newsletters.  I can't remember how I stumbled across it now, but it was quite by accident that I found out that Eric Clapton was coming to Toronto again. 

The tickets had already been on sale for a few weeks.  I was certain that I had missed the boat.  When the search came back with those tickets and I looked at the seating chart, I decided it wasn't that bad.  We were slightly to the right of centre stage in a balcony.

Binoculars would have been handy, however, I just kept changing my viewpoint from the stage to one of the large screens placed on either side.

The only negative part of attending a concert like that and being squeezed like sardines into the tight seats, is that you can't get up and dance. 

I gazed enviously at the fortunate people in the front row and wondered what kind of lifestyle they live.  How do you become a front row concert attendee?  Is it something that I will ever attain in my life earning the modest living that I do?  Probably not, but one can dream!

I'm still in shock over the fact that Derek Trucks was playing with them.  He is one of the best guitarists.  He absolutely puts me in a spell with his mind-numbing riffs.  I could listen to him all day long. 

Robert Cray is another long time favourite of mine, so the fact that I just had all three....wow.  That seems so inadequate.  WOW!  There isn't an adjective great enough to describe the sensation of watching three greats performing, and all three are definitely in their element.  They are so into playing the music they love that at times, I'm sure they are unaware of the thousands of fans looking at them adoringly. 

Again, I am looking at them enviously.  What an exciting life they must lead.  I'm sure there are aspects that are tedious, but to get on stage with people that you admire and play together, plus make tons of money doing something that you love, has to be wonderful.

Robert Cray opened the concert and held the audience in rapture with his smooth, subtle style that grabs hold of your attention and never lets go.  He had the whole venue riveted with his new "Soon To Be Number 1" hit called Twenty.  If you haven't heard it, try to find it so that you can listen to it in its entirety.  I am certain that this song has what it takes to be a classic such as Hotel California, Stairway To Heaven lore.  There is this wonderful riff that is absolutely addicting.  It had me hooked before he was halfway through the song. I was almost disappointed when he left the stage.  What?!  Disappointed that Eric Clapton was now going to start?  Well, yes.  For a moment, I was because I hadn't had enough of Cray.  I was elated to see that he joined Clapton on stage for a couple of other tunes including the encore which was Crossroads.  That was AWESOME!  I imagined that Clapton and Cray were both dueling each other for their souls, but both had lost because their love of music was too strong; the devil owned them both.

Eric Clapton proved over and over again that he is the master.  His age has not depleted his talent in any way.  As mesmerized as I can become when Derek was doing a solo, or Robert when Eric would ease in at the end of their solos; I couldn't help but feel that I was witnessing one of the greatest events in music history. 

I would highly recommend that you get tickets to see this concert when and if it lands in your neck of the woods!  You will not be disappointed.

Trailer Park Girls...

Deb and I are sitting at this lovely turquoise painted picnic table enjoying a rowdy game of Gin Rummy.

After calling my mother to get the rules of play, we dealt the cards and the laughter began.

I want to listen to Bob Marley but Debbie doesn't.  We have to find a common ground on the music or the afternoon sun and glow from the alcohol will be lost.

"When was the last time you sat outside at a picnic tableon a sunny Thursday afternoon playing cards?"

"Honestly Shel?  I can't even remember."

"Neither can I!  This is absolutely perfect!"

"Turn up the music when you're inside getting our drinks!"

We have settled on CCR.

The drink is Coconut Rum and Diet Fresca with Cherry - Superb!

It doesn't take long to go through half a bottle of rum.  I decide to finish the rest of my wine from last night.  Not too sure what the next drink will be but I'm thinking it will be Vodka and Diet Coke with Lime.

When Debbie's friend from work heard that we were contemplating on spending a couple of days in Southampton, she graciously offered her trailer in Sauble Beach which is just an 8 min drive down the highway from Southampton.  This has turned out to be a very inexpensive mini vacation.  Other than our food and beverages, the cost is only $10.00 per guest.

The trailer park is Carson's and it is very beautiful.  I'm surprised at how big the park is and pride of ownership is evident with the neatly manicured sites.  This isn't "The Trailer Park Boys".

Eight hands later, the score is 91 to 71 for me and Debbie has grown weary of the game.  We move to lawn chairs, which we position so that we are catching every ray of sunlight possible.

We are now listening to a jukebox CD that was sent to me from Mick in the UK as part of a music exchange with fellow bloggers last year, or was it the year before?  I can't remember now, but the music is perfect for this sunny afternoon.

I am completely satisfied with my life in this moment.  It's perfect.  The heat from the sun, good drink, wonderful music, what more could a person ask for?  I lean my head back against the back of the chair and close my eyes.  The sound of the wind blowing through the leaves transports me back to another time and place.  I'm laying on the hammock in my grandparent's yard sleeping on a sunny, summer afternoon.

I'm really happy that I made the decision to take two weeks off.  I was debating on whether I should or not because I did not have any concrete plans, but my body was telling me that I needed to escape the stress of everyday work life to recoup.

It's turned out to be a very relaxed yet interesting little break.  I've enjoyed trailer life, cottage life and time at home in between.

Now it's back to my normal routine except that I am making a promise to myself not to stay at work late everynight.  It's not good.  It doesn't get you anywhere and the only thing that I seem to get out of working so much are bigger bags under my eyes.

Vacation

Here's a sunset from Sauble Beach. I've just returned from a mini vacation. Will update more soon!

Tit for Tat

Part of my morning battle into work each day comprises of a race around the block to the local Tim Horton's for my Extra Large Double Double.

I started to drive out of my way so that I would be on the right side of the road which allows me to make a right hand turn into the drive-thru line up.

This line up can sometimes snake its way down Caledonia.  The people attempting to join the cue from the left are quite simply, left out.  They usually have to opt to walk in because there isn't an easy way to turn left and bud into a line up half a block long.

I learned an alternative route soon after joining this office and every day I race off the 401, south on Dufferin to Orfus, West on Orfus to Caledonia, North on Caledonia to the line up for Tim Horton's.  Quick and simple, until earlier this week.

The entrance off Caledonia was closed for construction.  The only way in was to turn right on Bentworth (a street I pass on Dufferin to get to Orfus) and drive through the parking lot to the drive thru lane.

By the second day, of having to drive past the usual entrance to the second one, I had made a decision that the next day I would turn right on Bentworth and come in that way instead.

I chuckled to myself as I left my fellow racers on Dufferin.  Suckers.  They don't realize that they can't get in that way.  See ya there!

With a smirk still on my face, I pulled my car quickly onto the lot and around the corner of the building to find a line up out the original driveway, snaking down Caledonia.

Shit.  They fixed it.  Damn.  A day too late.  To make matters worse some bitch in an SUV must have realized by the look on my face what I had done and she laughed as if to say "Ha, ha!" as she pulled her vehicle closer to the one in front of her so I couldn't sneak in.

There was an older gentleman in the vehicle behind her though and he waved at me that I could go in front of him when there was movement in the line.

It warmed my heart to realize that there are some people out there still with some manners and compassion.

"$1.58 please."

"How much is the order for the man behind me?"

"Pardon?"

"I want to pay for the man's coffee behind me, how much is it?"

"Oh, I see. It's $1.20."

"Ok, here you go!"

I retrieved my coffee and sped off chuckling about what the man would think when he went to pay and was told, "No money, that lady pay for you!"

I believe that good deeds should be rewarded in some small way and he made my day!

Thank you Gentle Stranger!

Too Early

It can't be 4:30 a.m.  It feels like 8:00 a.m.  Maybe I should get up and blog for a bit and then go back to bed for a few winks before I have to get ready for work.

No, I'll lie here and try to relax.  Think of nothing and soon I'll be back to sleep.

Stop bugging me Molly.  This isn't the time for play, I'm supposed to be sleeping.  I only have 2 hours before I have to get up.

4:45 a.m.  1 hour and 45 min till wake time.  I can't believe how wide awake I am.  What time did I go to bed last night anyway?  It was at least 11:00 p.m. 

Why am I so wide awake.  I haven't been in bed long.  Usually I require a good 8 hours of sleep to feel this rested.

I should get up now.  Take a shower, have breakfast and go into work real early.

No, just lie still and stop thinking and soon you'll be back to sleep.

Think of something that is relaxing.  Visualize yourself lying on a sandy beach.  The crash of the waves in the background are lulling you to sleep.  Yeah, that feels great.  Feel that sun on my skin.  Ahhh, this is working.  Before long I'll be sleeping soundly and the additional hour and a half will do me the world of good.

When I get into work, I need to take care of that HR issue first thing.  Fax those documents before you even log on the computer.  Then make yourself scarce and work on the overtime.  I wonder if so and so is going to be back today.  If she doesn't show, make sure you take the files out of her workload and hand them out to the rest of the staff.

I better make sure that Mr. Funny deals with Miss Promises because that whole situation is driving me crazy.  Oh damn, I think we have a meeting this morning with Boss Man. 

5:08 a.m.  Shelly what the hell are you doing?  How did you end up from the sandy beach to thinking about work again.  Stop that. 

Get up and get ready for work.  You aren't even tired.  You can go into work early and take care of that paperwork before any of the staff get in.  No, I'm not going into work early dammit.  It feels like I just got home from the night before.

Why am I so wide awake?  What did I eat last night?  Did I have coffee before bed?  I wonder why coffee doesn't really affect me?  Maybe it does now and you just don't know.

Ok, just relax.  Stop thinking about work.  Think about something else.  Think about something relaxing...

5:30 a.m. Jeezus Cuhhhhrist.  This is NOT working.  I have to get up in another hour.  Maybe I'll stay in bed till 7:00.  I don't have to drive the daughter to work so no need to rush.  Piss on it.  I'll just take my time.  I just need to get back to sleep.

What was I dreaming about before I woke up?  What in the hell woke me up anyway?

8:00 a.m.  SHIT!  What day is it?  Where am I supposed to be?  Am I working today?  Why didn't my radio turn on?  DAMN IT. 

Instead of being totally early, now I'm late!

Summer Fun

DSCN1540
Originally uploaded by Suzy Snow.

Doesn't this make you yearn to be a kid again?

Trying Something New

I'm always open to trying out new things so when MSN asked me if I was interested in changing my hotmail account to the new Windows Live version, I thought what the hell.  Might as well. 

I've already changed my yahoo account to a new beta version so why not Hotmail.

After I changed over, there was information about other Windows Live services and one of them was Windows Live Writer (Beta).  It allows me to create posts without being logged into blogger.  Once I am satisfied, I can then upload to my blog.

I'm thinking this might just inspire me to blog more. 

We'll see.  Of course, that totally means that Windows Live Writer will have to start going to my job each day and working the long hours that I have been for the past year or so. 

I'll let you know how it works out!

Sugar and Spice and Everything...NICE?!?

I am not a nice person. I always thought I was but I was told today that I am not. I am crass. I think it is funny how we do not exactly see ourselves the way everyone else does. It is curious, is it not?

I must admit that my behaviour lately has not been very nice. I am blaming it on the heat. It could be hormones though. On the other hand, maybe I am stressed from too many late nights at work. Are you catching onto the pattern here? How I blame everything except myself? That is right. I operate that way. Never accept full responsibility for anything you do unless you are caught red handed. Even then, you can probably talk yourself out of a jam if you are a good talker.

I digress though. This was not going to be about me deflecting responsibility, but about my anger and me.

I am not sure, if I really have an underlying problem or if it is just the heat. I must add here that it has been incredibly hot in Toronto. Today was the hottest day this summer. It was 36 degrees Celsius but with the humidex, it felt like 47. Last night felt like the hottest night.

I work in air conditioning, drive in air conditioning and live in air conditioning, so I suppose the heat theory does not quite add up, except that I was outside when I lost my cool.

I worked late again. This is becoming a bad habit. Because of working late and being tired, I forgot to do two important tasks; go to the bank and get gas. I knew it was going to be an early start in the morning so I made a decision to go back out after eating something for supper.

My mother has been nervous ever since they announced on the news that a woman was recently raped and savagely beaten just down the block from our apartment building. Now whenever I go out, I have to hear about it. I have to listen to the “don’t come home late” lecture repeatedly.

I know she cares and that is not the problem, it is just that I feel as though I am a kid again. She insisted that Melissa go with me because by the time I started to head back out the door the sun had already fallen and it was dusk.

Melissa was not excited about going to the bank and getting gas but she could tell that my mom would not let go of it, so she grabbed her purse and out into the scary darkness we went.

The banking went smoothly. No hiccups, no robberies, we were in and out swiftly. Next, we did a quick shopping at Dominion. I thought I had been through a time warp back to the winter when I walked in and felt the blast of heat coming from the radiators in the vestibule. Beads of sweat started to pop out all over my face. I imagined that it was not noticeable and refrained from wiping them off.

The clerk at the checkout agreed with me about how stupid Dominion was for not having a good air conditioner.

“I HATE this place! The air conditioner hasn’t worked in two years!”

I moaned all the way to the car, which felt like a lot further away then when I walked into the store.

Melissa commented that I would not be a good candidate for a vacation in the Southern climes. Obviously, I cannot take the heat. She informed me that it really was not as bad as I was making it to be.

With our fudgesicles packed safely in the trunk, we scooted off to get the gas. I had noted earlier that the gas was 105.8 Cents per litre on my way home from work. Usually it will drop on a Monday or Tuesday evening and I was hoping that I would be fortuitous enough to save a penny or two.

The sign read 105.8. The station was not busy. I debated on driving around the city looking for a deal with my needle close to centering on E, but decided that I would play it safe and just buy it there. Pay full price. What the hell; its payday.

I pulled up to an empty pump and noticed a large post-it-note stuck on the outside warning that the debit was not operating. Another note was stuck on the next pump and the next. I continued around to the other side and was relieved to see there were no signs.

Expertly I opened my tank and stuck my debit card into the machine. Without waiting for the slow written instructions, I pushed the numbers deftly and pounced on the enter key as the words “push enter” began to appear on the LCD screen.

“Select grade to continue.”

I faltered for a half second as I debated internally on the merits of mid-blend over regular. Cheapness prevailed and I selected regular.

Nothing happened. I pushed it again, harder this time. Yet again, there was no response. The screen continued to read “select grade to continue.”

I repeated this sequence over and over again, each time selecting a different grade. It did not matter. The pump refused to give me cheap gas, gas that is slightly more expensive or gas that is significantly more expensive.

I turned toward the gas station where Mr. and Mrs. Gas Station Attendant were pretending to be busy looking after customers.

If only we could make eye contact, I am sure they would recognize the dilemma I was in and come out to assist.

Regardless of how hard I willed them to turn and look at me, they continued with their busy act and refused to turn. I was impressed with their strong will to resist my telepathic commands.

Not to be defeated, I resorted to pushing the “help” button.

“Calling cashier, please wait.”

I wondered what choice I had but to wait, however I was impressed with how polite the gas pump was.

Nothing happened. I did not hear a voice asking me if they could help and the “Calling cashier, please wait” message disappeared.

I pushed the help button again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And, well let’s suffice it to say that I am not entirely sure about how many times I actually did push the button. I was hoping that with every push of the button, that a loud ringing would occur inside the station where Mr. and Mrs. Gas Station Attendant were still pretending to be busy.

The beads of sweat that earlier had made my face glisten beautifully, had now formed small rivulets.

When the gas pump got tired of telling me to wait because it was calling the cashier, it simply cancelled my transaction. It had forced its hand. Now I either had to walk the 20 paces and confront Mr. and Mrs. Gas Station Attendant, or leave.

I marched into the station and demanded an explanation of why they had not answered my call for help.

“There is nothing wrong with the pump,” declared Mrs. Gas Station Attendant.

“How would you know that there is nothing wrong, when you never answered my call for help?”

“Because the screen says it is ok.”

“Well the screen is wrong because your piece of shit gas pump is broken.”

Mr. Gas Station Attendant abruptly interjected that I should have pushed the button for the intercom instead of using the help button. That way I would have been able to communicate with them.

“Then what the hell is the “help” button for?”

“I will be right out in a few minutes to assist you.”

“Forget it. I’ll take my business someplace else. Thank you so much for your GREAT customer service.”

I stormed out of the station and back to my car.

Melissa was killing herself laughing because she could tell by my face and my overly brisk walk that I was in a rage.

I explained the problem to her as I squealed off the lot and out onto the street.

A quick drive around the corner to the next gas station and I felt smug as I noted the price was a whole ½ cent cheaper.

I pulled deftly into the first available pump but stopped when I noticed a barricade of construction cones at the other end. It was confusing. Is it open or closed?

A young attendant was outside directing traffic on the lot and he yelled that it was ok, only that I would have to back out when I was finished.

Not a problem. I can do reverse. I actually reverse my car quite often when I am driving.

Just as I was stepping out of my vehicle, I heard a small beep and noticed a young man parked right behind my car. Apparently, he hadn’t noticed that I was prevented from moving up ahead by the row of cones. I ignored him. The attendant walked up to his window and spoke to him (explained the situation and the fact that he would have to back up so I could get out when I was done).

That last bit of instruction must have been too difficult for him to understand because he backed up a smidgen. Not nearly enough for a person to pull their car out and get it turned.

Again, I was not letting this irritate me. I had the entire evening and he was the one that would have to wait for me to get out of the way.

I finished my transaction at the gas pump. Printed a receipt for my record keeping (threw it casually into the back seat with the rest of the gas station receipts) and put the car into reverse.

I turned to look out my rear window and waited for Goofy to back up. He didn’t, so I didn’t. It was a classic standoff. The entire lot was full of cars by this time, all parked in different spots waiting to get at a pump. The thought did cross my mind that the attendant may have done a better job of managing how many cars he allowed onto the small lot, considering the room that was required for each of us to back up and turn around and exit by the one entrance.

Goofy backed up a little more. I backed up a little more. I still did not have clearance to turn my car around so I waited. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the attendant signalling me how to turn my wheels. I guess he figured that I was confused and did not know how to drive my car.

That was the breaking point.

“Don’t tell me how to fucking drive my car.”

“It’s not my fault. I didn’t do anything.”

“Yes you did. You are standing there motioning me on how to get out of here when I know perfectly well how to get out. Tell that asshole behind me to back up his fucking car so I can get out.”

Goofy heard me because he had his window open and he dutifully backed out of the way.

Again, I squealed off a gas station lot in a rage. I just needed to get home into the cool air again.

Melissa was questioning me about my mood as we sped home and I quickly informed her that it was not me, it was everyone else. It was all their fault. Anybody and everybody that had crossed my path was responsible for the murderous thoughts that were racing through my body at that very moment.

“I’ll tell you one thing Melissa. Your Nana does not need to worry about any rapist attempting anything with me because I would kill the fucker. He wouldn’t have a chance, the way I feel right now.”

The words were just escaping my lips when I noticed the police cars, fire truck and ambulance parked in the middle of the road, blocking my access to our building.

“I wonder what the Police would say about that,” Melissa snickered.

“Geezus…what is going on tonight?”

“I don’t know Mom, but I just want to go home.”

After taking a detour around the block, we made it safely into the garage, managed to park without incident and make our way back to our safe, cool apartment.

I went right to bed. Perhaps I was overtired.

My Birthday Gift

Here is a picture of the beautiful bracelet my daughter gave me for my birthday. It's very sparkly and pretty! I just love it.

Happy Birthday To Me

Happy Birthday To Me
Happy Birthday To Shelly
Happy Birthday To Me

Blues, Blues and more Blues

I have been away for a mini vacation to the Nation’s Capital, Ottawa, again. This time it was to go to the Ottawa Bluesfest for the first time.

I was browsing the internet in May to look for information on my new favourite musician, James Hunter and was lead down the cyber path to pulling out my credit card and purchasing two tickets to see Etta James in Ottawa last week.

I had heard about the Bluesfest before, now in its 13th year but had never made the decision to attend. When I purchased the tickets, I had no idea who I would take but I decided to ask my daughter if she would like to go. We had not been away together in years and I know that she enjoys Etta James so it seemed like the obvious choice.

Etta James has been a favourite artist of mine for a long time and I did not want to go to her concert with anyone that did not appreciate her music. My daughter was very excited about our trip and arranged for the time off work.

We stayed at the Ottawa Marriott, which is a lovely hotel, but it was a little too far away from the venue, which is held at Confederation Park. The best hotel, location wise, would have been the Lord Elgin, which was right across the street. I will know better next year.

The concert was fabulous. I was impressed with how appreciative the crowd was and there was quite a crowd. Melissa and I had VIP seats, three rows from the stage. We could see the sweat dropping off Etta’s face.

I am still in awe that I have finally been to see my idol. It still seems like a dream. One thing that was a big shock to me was how much weight she has lost. Etta James has always been a big woman but she was just a little tiny thing on the stage. Her voice is as big and full as it ever was and she blew us all away with the strength.

At the end of the show, while she sang her encore, tears started to roll down her cheek, she stopped singing, walked to the edge of the stage, stood for a few moments listening to the catcalls, and applause then turned suddenly and walked off the stage.

I do not think I will ever see her perform again. It seems to me that the weight loss is due to health issues and I hope I am wrong, but something tells me that I am not.

Other things that we did while in Ottawa were:
dined with my friend,
caught Dickie Betts performance the first night we were there,
shopped around the market in the sweltering temperatures,
my daughter tried on every pair of sandals in the Rideau Centre only to decide to wait until she was in Toronto again,
drove the wrong way on two one-way streets almost running head on into a UPS van and then had to do a big U-turn in the middle of the intersection and run a red light to get out of it,
my daughter had her picture taken with Jully Black after we watched her performance,
got lost on our way to lunch at a restaurant that I have been to several times before,
slept in both days,
sang along to great music during the 4+ hour drive there and home.

Etta James Ottawa Bluesfest 2006 "At Last"
Etta James Ottawa Bluesfest 2006 "I want to Ta Ta Ya Baby"

Asshole

Fit people can be dinks. No, they can be assholes. I wonder if I will turn into one when I lose the extra invisible person that I carry around with me each day.

This morning while I was out enjoying my Saturday morning walk I came upon a couple of men and a woman on bicycles heading in the opposite direction. The guy in the lead was complaining about a “fat woman with her two year old and stroller” who had impeded his progress one day because they didn’t jump out of his way. They were right in the middle of the wide trail. I caught a fragment of the woman empathizing with him before their conversation was lost in the wind “…and you were on your bike!”

It’s no wonder that people who are overweight refrain from joining fitness clubs or going out to popular walking/biking trails. Children are not the only ones who can be cruel. People at my age, can be so intolerable and insensitive to others, that it makes me sick.

You really have to have a thick skin and be very selfish in your desire to become healthy so that people like that do not make you want to hide yourself away in your home.

I guess he didn’t notice the big sign that instructs “slow walkers” to walk in the middle of the multi-use trail so that people who are flying through on their silent bikes will be able to go around them. Asshole!

Dreams of Fear, Flying and Work

Have you ever recalled a previous dream in a dream? With your previous dream perceived as reality in your current one. I know this is a little convoluted and possibly hard to understand what I am talking about so I will explain with an example of what I dreamt last night.

I have been dreaming of work non-stop lately. Possibly, from the overwhelming feelings that I have been experiencing lately, I am not sure but that is my best guess.

In my dream, we were refitting our offices with brand new desks, baffles, carpeting; the whole office transformed from dingy to an appealing space with lots of natural wood pieces (baffles included) and windows. The dividing walls of the cubicles had large glass panels to allow light to flow through the office. The wood finish was in a medium pine, not too blonde and not dark. It was a rich, warm tone.

During my dream, my boss (never seen before in real life) called a meeting in his small office. Rather than sitting behind the desk the boss had pulled a chair into the centre of the room and all the staff members had pulled chairs all around him reminding me of a schoolteacher with his students gathered near his feet. I didn’t see any room for a full size chair so I went into an adjacent waiting area and picked up a small wooden stool and found a spot amongst the rest of the staff members to sit and listen to my boss make his announcements or deliver whatever information was about to be shared.

He started to enquire about something that I was responsible for but had not finished which made me feel dreadfully embarrassed and panicky. In the end, it wasn’t as bad as I thought because inadvertently I had done whatever it was that was expected; I just hadn’t done it in the same way as it had previously been done and I had forgotten to copy certain individuals. So that was a relief.

During the meeting, I was staring out the window and I noticed a man in a business suit, briefcase in hand, floating from the sky, into the office building next door from the sky.



I joked asking my boss when we would be purchasing those individual jet packs for our daily commute to work. Everyone shouted how they would never use one because of fear of flying or heights. I then recounted how I had previously commuted to work via balloon (previous dream).

I recalled how I would hang onto this huge balloon and with the assistance of different strings would navigate myself to wherever I was going but the gale force winds one day did in fact take me miles and miles out of my way and made me nervous when I saw that I was headed toward large open waters. I was subsequently rescued by an airplane and brought safely home.

After waking up I realized that I had incorporated a previous dream (going to work by hand balloon) into a brand new dream.

I wonder what it is that the flying to work is signifying.

Addicted

I love the Sunday Star (Toronto Star). The Saturday edition used to be my favourite but now it’s the Sunday Star that gets my attention. The articles are interesting and have less to do with news and more to do with general interests, hence my infatuation.

This morning in the Ideas section there was an article: Warning: This Story Could Get You High. It was about the theory of Irving Biederman, professor of neuroscience at the University of Southern California.

His theory shows the link between learning new things and the release of opioids during neural activity. The article further explains why we get bored with old songs, movies viewed too many times etc.

I was always proud of the fact that I love learning new things, but now I’m slightly embarrassed to realize that I’m just an addict. Who knew?!?

Young People Not Allowed!

One of the news broadcasts they were advertising yesterday for the Six O’clock slot was about a “seniors only” park. I missed the actual story but was intrigued by the little clip. It showed sprightly seniors standing/sitting around a fishing pond, each with pole in hand, casting aimlessly.

I told my mother that her generation is selfish. Hogging a park and making it out of bounds to youngun’s (anyone under 65) is selfish.

“Wait until your generation is my age! Then we’ll see who’s selfish.”

Maybe I’ll be happy to have a Seniors Only Park in a couple of years. I envisioned driving my mother to the park in the morning on my way to work.

“You have a fun day Mom. I’ll get you later.”

“Don’t leave me out here all night like you did the last time.”

Right, I did forget her that day. I was so distracted with my job and trying to pick up Melissa that I completely forgot about her. My sister didn’t help either when I called and asked her to pick Mom up.

“What?! No I can’t go get her. I’m busy. I have to pick up Matty. You know that. Geez Shelly, she’ll be ok. You can get her tomorrow.”

No maybe it won’t be any use to me. I can see it’s going to be more bother than it’s worth. She’ll just have to be happy in the apartment with the computer and television for entertainment.

Virtual No More

Ring, ring.

“Hello.”

“Shelly?”

“Hi Jerry!”

“Uh Shelly, I’m just calling to tell you that we can’t make it.”

“You can’t?!?”

I then heard that unmistakable giggle and I knew he was teasing me, yet again. Jerry and Brenda were staying with Brenda’s family in St. Catharines, relatively close to my home in Mississauga, so we had made plans before their trip from Calgary to Missouri and then to St. Catharines that we would finally meet when they were in Ontario.

It was hard to believe that the day was finally here. I was excited. I have maintained a cyber relationship with Jerry for about four years. We first met on a message board that is now defunct. I was new to the message board concept and was surprised at how well you could forge friendships with people by reading their posts and responding etc.

Jerry was always good for a laugh. We added each other to our messengers to keep in contact and throughout the past four years we have chatted as well as talked on the phone. I was not nervous about finally seeing Jerry in the flesh because I felt as though I knew him very well after all the communication between us.

Brenda and Jerry took the bus from St. Catharines and would arrive downtown just past 11:00. I said I would be there when the bus arrived but true to my nature, I was late getting away from the apartment.

Destiny made me late; I would realize that later. It was 11:52am when I pulled into the parking lot on Gerrard across from the Delta Chelsea Hotel.

“What time do you park to? You park to 6:00?”

I wasn’t sure why the Indian parking attendant was asking me this. I glanced down at the sign that posted the rates and times.

He suddenly waved his hand in front of the sign.

“Don’t look there. Listen to me. What time you want to park?”

“Uhmm, I’m not sure.” I was stammering, not sure how to answer.

“It’s early. You park now. You get your car by 6:00pm. You go drive around for eight minutes, come back here because I’m nice guy, you park till 9:00pm.”

It was finally sinking in what he was trying to tell me. I quickly stole a glance at the sign with the rates and times and could see that if I parked before noon, it was a charge of $10.00 but I had to have my car out by 6:00pm. If you park at noon or later, the charge is $10.00 until 9:00pm.

This was most likely my best bet because I wasn’t sure of our plans for the day. I knew we were also meeting up with Pete (another cyber friend) and his family from Belleville, but they wouldn’t be arriving until later on in the afternoon.

“Ok, so I’ll drive around and come back in eight minutes.”

“That’s good choice ma’am. You come back here to park, cause I’m nice guy. I save you money. I don’t have to tell you this; I do because I’m nice guy.”

“Yes, I’ll come back. See you soon.”

I backed out of the parking lot and decided to go pick up Jerry and Brenda who were waiting at the Eaton’s Centre and then drive back to the parking lot. That should waste at least eight minutes.

I was able to secure a piece of the curb behind a Rav 4 that had their hazard lights on. Perfect. I wasn’t so worried about getting a ticket or being asked to move since I wasn’t the only one stopping here.

I couldn’t see Jerry and Brenda but thank god for cell phones. I was able to direct them right to my car. After explaining the parking dilemma I did a U-turn and got us on our way back to the parking lot.

Jerry looked exactly like his photo. I would have recognized him immediately.

It was almost surreal to have them sitting in my car, in Ontario, talking and laughing like it’s a commonplace occurrence.

We decided to go have lunch first and then we sort of hung around waiting for Pete and family to arrive. Unfortunately, when they got there, they were anxious to eat because they were hungry. We found another restaurant and visited while they ate.

Our weather has been basically cold and rainy for the past few weeks but Saturday was hot, sunny and humid. I swear that Jerry brought the Missouri weather here with him. I was happy that it wasn’t raining but I am not a lover of hot, sticky weather. I tried not to complain too much. If I did, they were all so polite that no one yelled at me to shut up.

After our second lunch, we walked up Yonge street and looked in Sam the Record Man’s, HMV and a poster store. Pete is a Beatle’s fanatic and he was hoping to find a new poster for his music room. He wanted the poster of the four lads standing in front of a door which is apparently the album cover of “Hey Jude”.

We were unlucky with our search, but we did get an opportunity to stand for long periods of time outside the shop in the hot, humid, weather while Peter and family hunted through the hundreds of posters inside.

I became a little nervous when I noticed that the pedestrians on the street were slowly evolving from tourists to gang members as the sun started to sink.

“I think we should call it a day and get going now.”

Everyone seemed ok with my suggestion. It had been a wonderful visit but the heat and humidity was starting to make us all feel weary.

I had suggested to Jerry and Brenda that they forget about their return bus ticket and allow me to drive them home so that I would be able to show them where I lived and we could extend our visit a little longer. They agreed after a brief familial debate.

My mom and Melissa enjoyed the opportunity to meet them and luckily for me, my sister showed up for a visit and agreed to come along for the ride so that I would have company on the way home.

It was exactly a one hour drive from my place, so after leaving here at 10:30pm, I dropped them off and was back at home by 12:30pm.

Acquisitions from HMV and Sam’s during the visit:

Ron Sexsmith - Time Being (Love this album!)
Joni Mitchell - Both Sides Now (to replace my cd that I lost)
James Hunter - People Gonna Talk (I am in love. What a great album.)
Jenny Lewis and The Watson Twins - Rabbit Furcoat (EXCELLENT!! They were playing this in Sam’s and I absolutely loved it. I just couldn’t leave without a copy for myself.)

Calling Softly

"Shelly"

I could hear a male calling my name softly. He was very close to me. He did not respond to my reply.

When I realized I was still in bed, my eyes flew open.

There was nobody in the room. The apartment was quiet. Everyone was asleep.

Who was that? The voice did and did not sound familiar all at the same time. I don't recognize the voice, but when I heard it call my name I was not alarmed in any way and it seemed to be coming from someone that I know.

Falling back to sleep was almost impossible.

Dream Job

I check myself out quickly in the mirror on the wall in the lady’s change room before heading downstairs to start my shift.

I hate wearing this stupid net. I look like an old lady. Stop blushing. Don’t be so nervous. It’ll be ok. Maybe Mrs. DQ will be working today instead of that old prick.

I almost collide with Mr. DQ as I step out of the change room. He is standing outside the door. I can feel my hair stand on the back of my neck and I quickly mutter a hello and run downstairs to the store front below.

He’s a miserable old prick and I don’t know why he makes me so nervous but he does.

I’m in my first week of training for the position that I had waited a long time to get. I bugged and bugged my parents to let me apply for a job at the local DQ and finally they agreed. My mother told me that I should just enjoy being a kid for as long as I could, but I wanted my own money to buy the clothes that I wanted to wear and this was the place that all the kids hung out at. What could be better than working at the local hangout?

My previous dreams about this job seem so silly in comparison to what it was really like to work here. There were so many things to remember; how much a small cone should weigh, how to make that perfect DQ curl, how much chocolate sauce to put on a hot fudge sundae, how to cut the bananas for the splits, the steps to make the Dilly Bars and Buster Bars; I wasn’t sure I would ever get it straight.

Something as simple as putting that finishing curl on top of the cone seemed an unsurmountable task. I would always start the cone-filling procedure with such optimism, but as the ice cream mounted higher and higher I would start to panic about how to slow it down and end it with the flair of the experienced DQ girl. My cones inevitably were thrown into the trash, too big, lopsided or short and squatty with no curl.

The owner stood beside me, her evil eyes burning a hole in the side of my head, her hot breath breezing over my flesh as she whispered orders to me through clenched teeth in her fake customer-friendly smile. I could feel the flush in my cheeks getting more intense as I went over the technique in my mind while I was filling the umpteenth cone, destined for failure.

I almost cried when she grabbed the cone from my hand and looked at the top of it with disgust, threw it on the scale and then immediately in the garbage because yet again I messed up on the weight and the finishing touch.

“Watch me!”, she hissed.

I turn to steal a quick glance at the customers to see if they are aware of my failure. Lucky for me they appear not to have noticed. I start to imagine ripping my apron off and telling Mr. And Mrs. DQ where they can shove their job and I can feel the flush in my cheeks start to dissipate.

“That will be $1.25 please.”

The torture is over and I’m taking the money for the cone. I feel confident with this part of the job. I’m good at taking money and making change. I’m in my element now. I can still feel eagle eyes watching my every move though and the feelings of inadequacy start to overpower my short-lived confidence.

“Go to the back and bring out a case of bananas. Better get another jug of chocolate sauce too.”

Thank god. I think I can handle this. I look at the clock hoping that my time is almost up but I’ve only just started my shift. I have another four hours to go. How am I ever going to be able to stand this until closing?

I take longer than need to gather the supplies just to get away from the scrutiny for a little while.

“Shelly! Come out here, we need those bananas. Where in the hell are you?”

Eyes down, cheeks burning once again, I hurry out to the front and as I pass pimple-faced Billy at the hamburger grill, I hear him snickering. I turn and give him the most nasty glare I can muster up. That little fruitcake is laughing at me. Bastard.

I look up as I get near the front counter and I almost drop the case of bananas on the floor because standing at the counter watching every move I make is my crush. His blue eyes are dancing with laughter as he says hello.

I want to tear the hair net off my head and apply fresh makeup, but it’s too late. He has seen me in my worst possible state. I’m a mess. I have bits of ice cream, chocolate, strawberry sauce and assorted other sweets plastered all over me.

Why did I think this was going to be a great place to work? I’m stuck behind this counter with a witch and warlock for bosses and my crush is out there free to chat up any of the available girls that are hanging out at the picnic tables in the parking lot.

I’m going to quit. I can’t take it.

The thought of giving my notice helped get me through to closing time. I would have to tell my parent’s first, but I am not prepared for their reaction.

“You don’t quit a job because it’s tough. You haven’t given yourself a chance to learn it yet. It’ll get better, you just wait and see.”

“But Mom I can’t work there . . .”

“You are NOT quitting.” “You wanted a job, and now you’ve got one.”

I did try. But it was not my destiny to be a DQ girl. I flooded the floor with Mr. Freezie liquid when the machine wouldn’t shut off; continually made cones, sundaes and parfaits too big; I could not make the curl on top of the cone no matter how hard I tried and I felt like a bull in a china shop on most days.

My way out came via another employee, the owner’s son to be exact. He was working with me again. It seemed to me like he was always working with me. He was a nice guy, older and I thought he was quite cute, but he had a girlfriend and I knew it was only a look but don’t touch kind of relationship that we had.

“Shelly, I’ll handle the register, you go out back and get some more cones, we’re getting low out here.”

“Oh ok.”

As I was walking back out front, I noticed Cute Guy putting the money from the customer in his pocket instead of the till.

“What are you doing?” I was indignant.

“Just mind your own business. This is how I get a little extra spending money from my parents.”

I knew then that I would get my parent’s blessings on quitting. If he always worked on the same shift as me and his parent’s started to notice that the money was short then who would they blame but me? My reputation was on the line. I could see a bleak future in my small hometown as I searched for jobs only to be turned down because nobody would want to hire a thief.

Suddenly I realized why the $50.00 bill was sitting on the edge of the sink in the ladies change room. I had noticed it on that very first day and my boss seemed irritated with me when I told her about it. She told me to shush and leave it alone. I thought that it belonged to a co-worker and that they had inadvertently forgotten it there.

After three or four days it finally disappeared and there was never a mention of it.

That was a test. They wanted to see if I would steal it. They must know someone at the store is stealing money and they have no idea that it is their very own son. They wouldn’t believe it either if it came down to my word against his.

It wasn’t hard to convince my parents that this was not the right job for me after telling of this newest incident. I was given permission to quit and I happily obliged by calling the DQ owners immediately.

They did not want me to work my notice period but said it was not necessary for me to come back.

It was a long time before I ever went back to the store as a customer. I no longer looked at it as the “coolest” place, because now I knew that dark secrets hide behind phony smiles.