I'm sitting here and I hear thudding in the street. Maybe more like pounding. It's like someone down the street has a giant hammer and is pounding the sidewalk with it. I went outside to look, but I don't see anything happening. Maybe it's the street behind us. Or maybe someone is renovating inside a house and the pounding is coming through all the walls.
It's amazing, isn't it, that we live in such close quarters in the city, we can't fart without someone three houses away saying, What was that?
But here's the interesting thing. These tiny clustered brick houses we live in? They are worth a bundle. We bought our house in 1988 for the hefty price of $198,000. That was apparently a good price. The average cost of a house in Toronto at the time was $250,000. Our street has always been undervalued for some reason.
This summer, several houses on our street sold. They all fetched over $350,000. One bungalow listed for $356,000 and sold for $458,000. Wow. Last week, a house almost identical to ours in structure sold for $370,000. The agents were so pleased, they came around to tell everyone on the street. We invited them in to our house to look around. They ooh'ed and aah'ed over our house. They said our house is in even better condition than the one they just sold. We agree. So we could probably fetch at least $370,000 for our house too.
Then the agents told us the reason our street is undervalued is because no one sells on this street. When there is no turnover, prices remain low. Apparently, the hidden knowledge among real estate agents is, our street is an undervalued gem. It is the nicest street in this pocket of the neighbourhood. It is tree-lined and quiet (hah, if they only knew). Most people who buy onto this street stay put. This is true. Very few people have moved out since we arrived. Well, without the turnover, houses on this street don't have the chance to increase in value. I take this to mean the same ethnic families have lived in these houses so the street doesn't get gentrified. Gentrification sells.
The last four houses that sold certainly were prepped to be showcase homes. And did they ever show. That's how they got these incredible prices. Really, these are tiny three-bedroom houses. Like the giant homes north of us, they too get more money if they show well. One agent said to me recently, do your house up so prospective buyers can imagine themselves having sex in it. Is there nothing that sex can't sell? I have to start paying attention to what makes a house sexy so we'll be ready if we ever sell.
Sunday, October 02, 2005
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Cousin, Cousine
The Man's cousin, I'll call her Kiki, is staying with us while she's visiting Canada. Kiki's mother and Man's father are brother and sister, so that makes Man and Kiki first cousins.
In 1949, Kiki's mother, I'll call her Jiki, had a daughter out of wedlock. She gave the daughter up for adoption. In the mid-1980s, this daughter, let's call her Liki, found Jiki in Australia. Liki's adoptive father started a service in the 80s to help adopted children locate their birth parents. I guess that's how Liki found her birth mother.
At that time, Jiki communicated with Liki for about two years by mail. There was a phone call. But Jiki finally told Liki she didn't want to communicate any more. However, Jiki kept Liki's correspondence and filed them away. She was a geneologist after all.
Jiki passed away two years ago. Her daughters from her marriage, Siki and Kiki came to Canada to reconnect with their mother's family. Kiki is now on her third visit to us. The last two times Kiki visited, she wanted to look Liki up. But she never had the time or the required information to locate her, what with so many relatives to visit and all. This time, Kiki made a point of getting the needed info to find Liki. Tonight, Kiki found her.
Liki is Kiki's half sister. Because Liki is also Jiki's daughter, that makes her Man's first cousin as well. That means, the Boy has another second cousin. I'm just an outsider watching all this.
Liki is 56, divorced and lives in Ottawa. She has two children in their twenties who are attending university in Guelph. Kiki and Liki are talking about meeting each other, either in Ottawa or in TO. It will probably happen this week or next. Certainly before Kiki returns to Australia.
They have never met, yet came from the same mother. Are they really such strangers? Will they feel an instant bond? What parallels exist in their lives that were genetically determined?
This is all very exciting and heart-warming, watching new family ties form. Liki had sought out her birth mother 20 years ago when she was in a difficult phase of life. Kiki and Siki reconnected with their mother's family after she passed away. The continuation of that process now is the search for their half sister, Liki. Life, loss, death and rebirth. Loss and death make us want to forge new ties to reaffirm life.
Can't wait to see how their lives are reshaped.
In 1949, Kiki's mother, I'll call her Jiki, had a daughter out of wedlock. She gave the daughter up for adoption. In the mid-1980s, this daughter, let's call her Liki, found Jiki in Australia. Liki's adoptive father started a service in the 80s to help adopted children locate their birth parents. I guess that's how Liki found her birth mother.
At that time, Jiki communicated with Liki for about two years by mail. There was a phone call. But Jiki finally told Liki she didn't want to communicate any more. However, Jiki kept Liki's correspondence and filed them away. She was a geneologist after all.
Jiki passed away two years ago. Her daughters from her marriage, Siki and Kiki came to Canada to reconnect with their mother's family. Kiki is now on her third visit to us. The last two times Kiki visited, she wanted to look Liki up. But she never had the time or the required information to locate her, what with so many relatives to visit and all. This time, Kiki made a point of getting the needed info to find Liki. Tonight, Kiki found her.
Liki is Kiki's half sister. Because Liki is also Jiki's daughter, that makes her Man's first cousin as well. That means, the Boy has another second cousin. I'm just an outsider watching all this.
Liki is 56, divorced and lives in Ottawa. She has two children in their twenties who are attending university in Guelph. Kiki and Liki are talking about meeting each other, either in Ottawa or in TO. It will probably happen this week or next. Certainly before Kiki returns to Australia.
They have never met, yet came from the same mother. Are they really such strangers? Will they feel an instant bond? What parallels exist in their lives that were genetically determined?
This is all very exciting and heart-warming, watching new family ties form. Liki had sought out her birth mother 20 years ago when she was in a difficult phase of life. Kiki and Siki reconnected with their mother's family after she passed away. The continuation of that process now is the search for their half sister, Liki. Life, loss, death and rebirth. Loss and death make us want to forge new ties to reaffirm life.
Can't wait to see how their lives are reshaped.
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Night Duty
The Boy just turned 15. He often acts 8. For his birthday weekend, he had two sleepovers, back to back. That means two nights of going to bed late. He ate junk food and drank Coke most of the time. Without being a party-pooper, what can a mother do?
On Monday, he refused the healthy meatball and vegetable soup I made for dinner. Instead, he ate Goldfish, chips and had more Coke. I am trying to treat him like a 15 year old. I warned him against such a diet. He scoffed at me, turned tail, and ensconced himself in the basement all evening to watch TV.
He is living in the basement for two weeks because we have a guest in the house who is using his bedroom. He doesn't mind giving up his bedroom because he loves sleeping in the basement anyway. That's where all his sleepovers take place. That's where the TV is.
So despite all my protests against his late nights and poor diet, and me trying not to lay down the heavy hand of the disciplinarian, I let him be, now that he's 15.
Last night, I had my regular insomnia night (happens at least once a week). At 2:30 a.m., I heard the bathroom vent in the basement come alive. When this vent is on, you can feel it vibrate throughout the house. Imagine it coming on suddenly in the middle of the night. That's why I heard it on the second floor, in my bedroom, with the door closed, beside the snoring Man.
I came down to the basement to investigate. The basement was filled with the stench of diarrhea. The Boy was not in bed. I called out to Boy in the bathroom. No answer. I went right up to the bathroom door where the stench got worse and called out in a loud day voice. No answer. He must be in the bathroom, I reasoned. Concerned, I tapped on the door and jiggled the door handle. Boy screamed and hollered in fear, as if I was the Boogeyman coming to get him. He confirmed he was sick but didn't need my help. Thank god for that, I said to myself, and went upstairs.
A few minutes later, he called to see where I was. I told him I was sitting in the living room upstairs. A few minutes after that, I heard flushing and running tap water, then he came upstairs. I fixed him with some water, juice, Tylenol for his sore throat, and he went back to bed. As I sat there, I think, He's sick because of lack of sleep and junk food. I have to stick to the law. He cannot have sleepovers back to back. I will have to figure out a way to curb his junk food intake and still have him be in control. Just then, he called out to me again. It was now 3:30 a.m.
Mom?
What is it? I shouted down to him in the middle of the night with two people sound asleep upstairs.
Can you come here?
I went to the top of the basement stairs holding my nose. Why? I called out.
Can you sit with me?
The poor boy, I thought. He's sick and he wants comfort. But god, I don't want to sit in that stench. He brought this on himself. I'm tired. I'm not going to sit with him, damn it.
No, I said, I'm not coming down, because I can't breath down there. How's that for being a devoted mother. But I'll stay up here till you fall asleep.
Oh, he said, disappointed.
I refrained from lecturing him, from saying, you brought this on yourself. Instead, I said, I'll check on you before I go back to bed.
Later, at 4:00 a.m., when the stench went away, I did check on him. He seemed okay. Yes, that was me at 4:00 a.m. in the basement bathroom disinfecting the toilet bowl, scrubbing the rim and wiping clean the seat so that in the morning, the Boy wouldn't freak out about the brown streaks all over the bowl and refuse to pee in it. Then I went to bed, feeling resentful.
On Monday, he refused the healthy meatball and vegetable soup I made for dinner. Instead, he ate Goldfish, chips and had more Coke. I am trying to treat him like a 15 year old. I warned him against such a diet. He scoffed at me, turned tail, and ensconced himself in the basement all evening to watch TV.
He is living in the basement for two weeks because we have a guest in the house who is using his bedroom. He doesn't mind giving up his bedroom because he loves sleeping in the basement anyway. That's where all his sleepovers take place. That's where the TV is.
So despite all my protests against his late nights and poor diet, and me trying not to lay down the heavy hand of the disciplinarian, I let him be, now that he's 15.
Last night, I had my regular insomnia night (happens at least once a week). At 2:30 a.m., I heard the bathroom vent in the basement come alive. When this vent is on, you can feel it vibrate throughout the house. Imagine it coming on suddenly in the middle of the night. That's why I heard it on the second floor, in my bedroom, with the door closed, beside the snoring Man.
I came down to the basement to investigate. The basement was filled with the stench of diarrhea. The Boy was not in bed. I called out to Boy in the bathroom. No answer. I went right up to the bathroom door where the stench got worse and called out in a loud day voice. No answer. He must be in the bathroom, I reasoned. Concerned, I tapped on the door and jiggled the door handle. Boy screamed and hollered in fear, as if I was the Boogeyman coming to get him. He confirmed he was sick but didn't need my help. Thank god for that, I said to myself, and went upstairs.
A few minutes later, he called to see where I was. I told him I was sitting in the living room upstairs. A few minutes after that, I heard flushing and running tap water, then he came upstairs. I fixed him with some water, juice, Tylenol for his sore throat, and he went back to bed. As I sat there, I think, He's sick because of lack of sleep and junk food. I have to stick to the law. He cannot have sleepovers back to back. I will have to figure out a way to curb his junk food intake and still have him be in control. Just then, he called out to me again. It was now 3:30 a.m.
Mom?
What is it? I shouted down to him in the middle of the night with two people sound asleep upstairs.
Can you come here?
I went to the top of the basement stairs holding my nose. Why? I called out.
Can you sit with me?
The poor boy, I thought. He's sick and he wants comfort. But god, I don't want to sit in that stench. He brought this on himself. I'm tired. I'm not going to sit with him, damn it.
No, I said, I'm not coming down, because I can't breath down there. How's that for being a devoted mother. But I'll stay up here till you fall asleep.
Oh, he said, disappointed.
I refrained from lecturing him, from saying, you brought this on yourself. Instead, I said, I'll check on you before I go back to bed.
Later, at 4:00 a.m., when the stench went away, I did check on him. He seemed okay. Yes, that was me at 4:00 a.m. in the basement bathroom disinfecting the toilet bowl, scrubbing the rim and wiping clean the seat so that in the morning, the Boy wouldn't freak out about the brown streaks all over the bowl and refuse to pee in it. Then I went to bed, feeling resentful.
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
The First Time
The first time I didn't have to go to school when September came was in 1982. I had dropped out of university and started a full-time job. It felt odd, being neither nor.
That summer, we had students in the office. By the end of August, they had all left, getting ready to start a new school year in their respective universities. I stayed in the office to assume what was my adult life, without school. I felt relieved I was spared the tedious grind of school, an area I had never done well in. But I didn't quite fit as a new working adult either. I eventually got used to working. But for many years, whenever September came, I looked to start something new.
All these years later, now with my own teenage son, I still look at September as a time of restart. Funny that. That the restart should be in the Fall rather than the Spring.
This year, I was hoping to start a new job. And yes, I was thinking I would go back to school! I did start a new job, for two weeks. It didn't work out. It was the first time in my life where I have been in an abusive environment. People talk about it, I could never quite relate. But now, I have first-hand experience. I don't want to talk about this experience right now, but it is forever etched in my life as The Horror.
But the return to school! My goodness, there are many exciting programs at the graduate level I can take, in different formats. My current interest is the University of Athabasca, where I can do a Master of Arts – Integrated Studies online. Once I do the two core courses, I can go into a stream of my choice. That is, I can take cluster courses in Adult Education (where I have a keen interest); Community Studies; Cultural Studies; Distance Educational Studies; Work, Organization and Leadership; Global Change; or Information Studies. I would be interested in any of these streams.
And what does one do with an MA in such areas? Who knows. For me, the MA is a vanity degree. I just want one. I am willing to earn it.
This is a graduate program, so the cost is high. About $12,000 for the program. So I need to nail that job to fund this. What's first about this? It's the first time I have ever wanted to go to school and feel I will enjoy the learning! What's with that?
That summer, we had students in the office. By the end of August, they had all left, getting ready to start a new school year in their respective universities. I stayed in the office to assume what was my adult life, without school. I felt relieved I was spared the tedious grind of school, an area I had never done well in. But I didn't quite fit as a new working adult either. I eventually got used to working. But for many years, whenever September came, I looked to start something new.
All these years later, now with my own teenage son, I still look at September as a time of restart. Funny that. That the restart should be in the Fall rather than the Spring.
This year, I was hoping to start a new job. And yes, I was thinking I would go back to school! I did start a new job, for two weeks. It didn't work out. It was the first time in my life where I have been in an abusive environment. People talk about it, I could never quite relate. But now, I have first-hand experience. I don't want to talk about this experience right now, but it is forever etched in my life as The Horror.
But the return to school! My goodness, there are many exciting programs at the graduate level I can take, in different formats. My current interest is the University of Athabasca, where I can do a Master of Arts – Integrated Studies online. Once I do the two core courses, I can go into a stream of my choice. That is, I can take cluster courses in Adult Education (where I have a keen interest); Community Studies; Cultural Studies; Distance Educational Studies; Work, Organization and Leadership; Global Change; or Information Studies. I would be interested in any of these streams.
And what does one do with an MA in such areas? Who knows. For me, the MA is a vanity degree. I just want one. I am willing to earn it.
This is a graduate program, so the cost is high. About $12,000 for the program. So I need to nail that job to fund this. What's first about this? It's the first time I have ever wanted to go to school and feel I will enjoy the learning! What's with that?
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
Old Farts
For the past three months, I've had a shoulder/neck pain in the right shoulder. This is actually a pain I've had for over 25 years. I've been to a chiropractor and family doctor but to no avail. Thing is, the pain does not limit my mobility, and while I can point to the area because it feels hot and inflamed, no amount of drugs or massaging gets rid of it. It is a deep deep embedded pain that flares up during stressful periods or when I've been really really bad with my diet. I think this bout was triggered by really really bad eating and poor sleeping a few months ago. It feels like a torn muscle or really bad bruise.
So last week, The Man complained of a similar pain in his left shoulder.
A few night ago, The Man bought some Absorbine Jr. At bedtime, we rubbed the reeky stuff on each other. He lay on his side of the bed, me on mine, far far away from each other because we both stank. The rub provided some temporary relieve so that I heard The Boy get ready for bed but fell asleep before he finished. Don't know what happened to The Man.
I have envisioned evenings spent with The Man reading - him in his chair, me in my corner. I have imagined evenings of us going to dinner then going for a walk. I would like us to spend an evening listening to music and making a meal. But I have never imagined us spending an evening rubbing Absorbine Jr. on each other and not knowing when my son went to bed. Has this become my life?
So last week, The Man complained of a similar pain in his left shoulder.
A few night ago, The Man bought some Absorbine Jr. At bedtime, we rubbed the reeky stuff on each other. He lay on his side of the bed, me on mine, far far away from each other because we both stank. The rub provided some temporary relieve so that I heard The Boy get ready for bed but fell asleep before he finished. Don't know what happened to The Man.
I have envisioned evenings spent with The Man reading - him in his chair, me in my corner. I have imagined evenings of us going to dinner then going for a walk. I would like us to spend an evening listening to music and making a meal. But I have never imagined us spending an evening rubbing Absorbine Jr. on each other and not knowing when my son went to bed. Has this become my life?
Thursday, August 11, 2005
Technology Circus
I get comments on my posts sometimes. I delete most of them. I don't think they are from real people. The comments carry generic messages like:
Hey great job on your blog. I'll definately be back. Meanwhile, check out my site ....
The link goes to site that want to sell you stuff. I guess there is no privacy in the blog world. But I feel so violated by this kind of spamming. How do they do that? Do they use a program to search weblog.com or technorati, come up with key words and automatcially pop in generic messages into blogs? Is commerce the motivation for invading people's blogs? Is there a blog spam protection software I can use?
Service providers come up with a technology that enables one activity, only to have people come up with a tertiary technology that abuses the primary activity, which necessitates the creation of a new technology to stop the abuse. Sure, necessity is the mother of invention. But this is like mother gone bad. Or are we all just part of a technology circus?
Hey great job on your blog. I'll definately be back. Meanwhile, check out my site ....
The link goes to site that want to sell you stuff. I guess there is no privacy in the blog world. But I feel so violated by this kind of spamming. How do they do that? Do they use a program to search weblog.com or technorati, come up with key words and automatcially pop in generic messages into blogs? Is commerce the motivation for invading people's blogs? Is there a blog spam protection software I can use?
Service providers come up with a technology that enables one activity, only to have people come up with a tertiary technology that abuses the primary activity, which necessitates the creation of a new technology to stop the abuse. Sure, necessity is the mother of invention. But this is like mother gone bad. Or are we all just part of a technology circus?
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
Down With Rain
I try to be a good citizen. I know that parts of our country has been in a drought for the whole growing season this year. Our part of the country has been baking in an oven for almost two months. Air conditioners rage in every house in the city. Hydro regulators have asked us to reduce electricity use to avoid over-burdening the system.
I do my part to reduce energy consumption because the production of electricy causes pollution and the use of electricity is expensive. So I do us a favour by limiting our use of electricity and saving us some money. For the past two months, I've done two main things: 1) I gauge the temperature outside and set our air conditioner just a few degrees lower so that the AC takes the edge off the humidity without making the house cold. 2) I don't use the dryer at all. I've had a clothes line in the backyard for two years now. I've only hung the white laundry out because the colours discolour in the sun. This summer, I moved the clothes line to a shady spot under the tree. Now I can hang up all my laundry outside to dry.
But you can never quite count on Mother Nature to do her part to get your laundry dried though. I hung up two loads of washing today. Wouldn't you know that by mid-morning, it started raining. I'm cool with that, I said to our cousin visiting from Australia, What's the worst that can happen? So my clothes get wet, but they will dry again. I'm good with that.
Later, the sun came back out, the clothes started to dry again. It's evening now. I am looking out the window. It's pouring rain. My laundry is still out on the lines.
Right now, there's a part of me saying, I do my part to conserve energy and protect the environment. Why isn't Mother Nature being more cooperative in getting my laundry dry? Damn, do I have to re-wash the laundry and put them in the dryer? What the hell is this?
I do my part to reduce energy consumption because the production of electricy causes pollution and the use of electricity is expensive. So I do us a favour by limiting our use of electricity and saving us some money. For the past two months, I've done two main things: 1) I gauge the temperature outside and set our air conditioner just a few degrees lower so that the AC takes the edge off the humidity without making the house cold. 2) I don't use the dryer at all. I've had a clothes line in the backyard for two years now. I've only hung the white laundry out because the colours discolour in the sun. This summer, I moved the clothes line to a shady spot under the tree. Now I can hang up all my laundry outside to dry.
But you can never quite count on Mother Nature to do her part to get your laundry dried though. I hung up two loads of washing today. Wouldn't you know that by mid-morning, it started raining. I'm cool with that, I said to our cousin visiting from Australia, What's the worst that can happen? So my clothes get wet, but they will dry again. I'm good with that.
Later, the sun came back out, the clothes started to dry again. It's evening now. I am looking out the window. It's pouring rain. My laundry is still out on the lines.
Right now, there's a part of me saying, I do my part to conserve energy and protect the environment. Why isn't Mother Nature being more cooperative in getting my laundry dry? Damn, do I have to re-wash the laundry and put them in the dryer? What the hell is this?
Saturday, July 30, 2005
Hardware and Chocolates
Know what Rona sells in addition to home improvement hardware? They sell chocolates. What's with that?
The chocolate bars carry the Rona label. These chocolates are stocked at the cash, like magazines, so when you check out, you go, Hey chocolates, I want one.
I asked the cashier, Why is Rona selling chocolate? She said, I don't know. But I got to thinking...Rona's TV commercials feature a woman, all glammed up, looking at a problem in her house and wondering how to fix it. Meanwhile, her husband sits there looking doltzy, at a worse loss than her. The voiceover says, Rona - you can do it, we can help. Rona's commercials target women. The whole store is set up so it's easier to find things, their staff is more willing to help, the place is less crowded, they sell decorative furnishing as well. Rona has a softer image than other hardware and home improvement centres. It makes sense they want to build on that softer image with chocolates. If women shop at Rona, as I did, it's a treat for them to find chocolate among the hardware, as I did.
Rona Home & Garden rivals Home Depot any day for me.
The chocolate bars carry the Rona label. These chocolates are stocked at the cash, like magazines, so when you check out, you go, Hey chocolates, I want one.
I asked the cashier, Why is Rona selling chocolate? She said, I don't know. But I got to thinking...Rona's TV commercials feature a woman, all glammed up, looking at a problem in her house and wondering how to fix it. Meanwhile, her husband sits there looking doltzy, at a worse loss than her. The voiceover says, Rona - you can do it, we can help. Rona's commercials target women. The whole store is set up so it's easier to find things, their staff is more willing to help, the place is less crowded, they sell decorative furnishing as well. Rona has a softer image than other hardware and home improvement centres. It makes sense they want to build on that softer image with chocolates. If women shop at Rona, as I did, it's a treat for them to find chocolate among the hardware, as I did.
Rona Home & Garden rivals Home Depot any day for me.
Thursday, July 21, 2005
Hey Freddie, hey Armour
You eat my food, you wear my clothes, you sleep in my bed. You said you'd blog with me. But you're no show so far. What's with that?
Sunday, July 17, 2005
HP Sauced
We pre-ordered Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince back in February. The Boy was keen to get it. The bookstore's promise was that by pre-ordering, we'd be the first to get the book and we'd get it at 40% off.
Closer to the book release date, I learned that many book sellers were hosting launch parties the night of July 15. All these pre-teens and adults were showing up at the parties in costumes. They even held contests for the best outfit. Yes, it's a good marketing ploy, yes, it gets pre-teens excited about reading. Except the book seller we ordered from was selling the book at 40% off on launch night, and you could pick up the book at 12:01 AM July 16, if you attended the party.
So why did we pre-order? We were not the first to get the book, we did not save extra money. True, I would not have gone to the launch party. And we did get the book on July 16 at 40% off. Still, I feel ripped off for some reason.
Note to self: Do not fall for book selling ploys again. (But I will. Because I don't have to go out at midnight, I still get the book on the day they say, at the discount they offered, plus a "magic card" that entitles the holder to a discount of $5 to $100 off the next purchase of $50 or more in books. Yea, yea, another marketing ploy.)
Second note to self: Good god, am I a competitive and petty consumer? (Yes I am.)
Closer to the book release date, I learned that many book sellers were hosting launch parties the night of July 15. All these pre-teens and adults were showing up at the parties in costumes. They even held contests for the best outfit. Yes, it's a good marketing ploy, yes, it gets pre-teens excited about reading. Except the book seller we ordered from was selling the book at 40% off on launch night, and you could pick up the book at 12:01 AM July 16, if you attended the party.
So why did we pre-order? We were not the first to get the book, we did not save extra money. True, I would not have gone to the launch party. And we did get the book on July 16 at 40% off. Still, I feel ripped off for some reason.
Note to self: Do not fall for book selling ploys again. (But I will. Because I don't have to go out at midnight, I still get the book on the day they say, at the discount they offered, plus a "magic card" that entitles the holder to a discount of $5 to $100 off the next purchase of $50 or more in books. Yea, yea, another marketing ploy.)
Second note to self: Good god, am I a competitive and petty consumer? (Yes I am.)
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
Plight of Misery
I took a little camping trip up the Bruce Peninsula this weekend. The whole weekend was warm and sunny. Even though we were camping, we took most of our meals in a restaurant because D forgot to pack the stove and lantern. I mean, not only could we not cook, but we also had to not cook in the dark. But that's an other story.
During one of our meals at an outdoor restaurant, this is what I witnessed:
A man and his family came in. Before he even sat down, he started adjusting the umbrella attached to the table in an effort to get some shade over the seats. I wondered why he didn't just go to one of the other tables that already had the umbrella bent and positioned to give shade. The umbrella didn't seem cooperative, so he asked the waitress to fix the umbrella. The waitress said the umbrella is probablly broken because there was tape around the adjustment mechanism, so she didn't touch the umbrella. She suggested he moved to a different table. The man's teenaged son however, was completely embarrassed by his father's struggle with the umbrella and refused to change tables. After some words with the father, he said, "If we move, let's move to that table that is in the shade. It doesn't have an umbrella." But the man said, "No, I want to sit here."
Not happy with the waitress' answer or his son's refusal to move to a table with an umbrella, the man flagged down a waiter, who happily adjusted the umbrella for him. The waiter said, "Just be careful, the wind may blow the umbrella about."
Sure enough, each time the wind came up, the umbrella spun on its adjustment pivot, knocking passersby in the head and allowing the full force of the sun to hit the man's table. He spent most of the time holding the umbrella steady with one hand. He looked most unhappy. His poor wife and son looked frustrated with the man.
So I was thinking...Why is this family out when they are so full of misery? Why didn't the man just go to a table in the shade? I don't know. I think this man came into the restaurant looking for reasons to be unhappy. What's with people like that?
During one of our meals at an outdoor restaurant, this is what I witnessed:
A man and his family came in. Before he even sat down, he started adjusting the umbrella attached to the table in an effort to get some shade over the seats. I wondered why he didn't just go to one of the other tables that already had the umbrella bent and positioned to give shade. The umbrella didn't seem cooperative, so he asked the waitress to fix the umbrella. The waitress said the umbrella is probablly broken because there was tape around the adjustment mechanism, so she didn't touch the umbrella. She suggested he moved to a different table. The man's teenaged son however, was completely embarrassed by his father's struggle with the umbrella and refused to change tables. After some words with the father, he said, "If we move, let's move to that table that is in the shade. It doesn't have an umbrella." But the man said, "No, I want to sit here."
Not happy with the waitress' answer or his son's refusal to move to a table with an umbrella, the man flagged down a waiter, who happily adjusted the umbrella for him. The waiter said, "Just be careful, the wind may blow the umbrella about."
Sure enough, each time the wind came up, the umbrella spun on its adjustment pivot, knocking passersby in the head and allowing the full force of the sun to hit the man's table. He spent most of the time holding the umbrella steady with one hand. He looked most unhappy. His poor wife and son looked frustrated with the man.
So I was thinking...Why is this family out when they are so full of misery? Why didn't the man just go to a table in the shade? I don't know. I think this man came into the restaurant looking for reasons to be unhappy. What's with people like that?
Saturday, June 11, 2005
Not Fake Enough
In a mall recently, one of the shops mounted an eye-catching display of colourful, potted florals, taking up two tables, half the floor space, spilling out onto the mall floor. There were reds, yelllows and oranges everywhere. The array almost tempted you to get closer, to walk through the flower bed, to take one of the potted plants home. Only, you wouldn't want to do that. Because the flowers were moving and flashing lights. These were fake flowers. Not just fake plastic flowers in plastic pots. They were fake plastic flowers in plastic pots powered by battery. Some stems twisted this way and that, beckoning to the onlooker, others had spinning flower heads, some had leaves that waved back and forth, some had lights that glowed from the centre of the flower, some lights flickered like a disco ball.
It was a disconcerting sight, this sea of neon and fluorescent twirling plastic. As if fake flowers weren't fake enough, they now have fake flowers with fake movement and fake brightness. The flowers were not in a kid's shop. They were in an adult gift, souvenir and clothing shop. What's with that? Who buys flowers like that?
It was a disconcerting sight, this sea of neon and fluorescent twirling plastic. As if fake flowers weren't fake enough, they now have fake flowers with fake movement and fake brightness. The flowers were not in a kid's shop. They were in an adult gift, souvenir and clothing shop. What's with that? Who buys flowers like that?
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Is it important to know anything?
I went to a gardening centre today. I wanted flowering plants for a shaded area. There were many plants in the centre, in different colours, easily overwhelming me. I didn't know which ones would grow in the shade. So I asked a woman in the garden centre's uniform for help.
She looked down at some plants in front of her, flipped a tag over, and said, "No, this one needs sun." She did that to several plants, muttering each time, "No, needs sun." She finally flipped one tag over and said, "Look, this one says, Sun to Shade."
I said, "Do you know which plants grow in the shade, or are you just checking the tags."
She said, "I'm checking the tags."
"So I could do that too."
"Right. Except most of the plants don't have tags, and some of them are wrong."
She was right about that. There was a tag buried in every ten plants or so. The plants are clustered so you can't see the tags unless you looked for them. But apparently, if I found one, I shouldn't trust it, because it could be wrong. And the woman helping me has no special knowledge of plants because she's just checking the tags, which could be wrong. My mind reels.
What's with that?
She looked down at some plants in front of her, flipped a tag over, and said, "No, this one needs sun." She did that to several plants, muttering each time, "No, needs sun." She finally flipped one tag over and said, "Look, this one says, Sun to Shade."
I said, "Do you know which plants grow in the shade, or are you just checking the tags."
She said, "I'm checking the tags."
"So I could do that too."
"Right. Except most of the plants don't have tags, and some of them are wrong."
She was right about that. There was a tag buried in every ten plants or so. The plants are clustered so you can't see the tags unless you looked for them. But apparently, if I found one, I shouldn't trust it, because it could be wrong. And the woman helping me has no special knowledge of plants because she's just checking the tags, which could be wrong. My mind reels.
What's with that?
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Of Mice and Me
We had a mouse problem in our house last week. We bought a humane mouse trap, the kind that traps the mouse in a box so you can release it later. So far, we've caught a mouse on three consectuive tries. The last one we found was on Sunday night, when we came home from the weekend. D took the mouse out in the backyard, removed the lid from the box, and threw the mouse out in the dark. He thought the mouse may have been dead.
The next morning, he went out to look for the dead mouse. It was not found. We are assuming the mouse was either dead and got eaten by a nocturnal creature, or it was stunned and when it came to, it scampered away.
Last night, we set the mouse trap again. This morning, no mouse. What are we learning from this?
1) We've been catching the same mouse each night.
2) We've catching different mice each night.
The next morning, he went out to look for the dead mouse. It was not found. We are assuming the mouse was either dead and got eaten by a nocturnal creature, or it was stunned and when it came to, it scampered away.
Last night, we set the mouse trap again. This morning, no mouse. What are we learning from this?
1) We've been catching the same mouse each night.
- Mice are homing creatures. The one we've been catching is not very smart. It had to get caught several times before it learned to stayed away from the trap.
- If we had been catching the same mouse, our mouse died in the trap and got eaten up in the backyard overnight so it couldn't come back last night.
- Or it's playing with us, knowing we're too wimpy to intentionally kill it so it's staying away for one night to keep us guessing.
- We need to find that entrance to the house the mouse has been using
2) We've catching different mice each night.
- We've had a family of mice living with us. We finally got rid of the last one.
- If we've had a family of mice with us, there could be more that we don't know about. We are waiting for the babies to grow up to make their appearance known again.
- The mice stayed away last night because they are gathering friends for reinforcement to launch a mass attack.
- We need to bring in an exterminator.
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
Too many shoes, not enough feet
I bought a new pair of shoes last week. That makes over 20 pairs that I have in my closet, having discarded about ten pairs two months ago. But I really only wear four pairs regularly. Why do I keep buying shoes that I don't wear? Let me tell you something about my logic.
I buy shoes that look cute or have a nice colour that I imagine I would wear to create a certain look. But that look often requires new pants or skirt and a new top. By the time I get the shoes home, I've moved beyond that look I had in mind in the shoe store. So I don't buy the top or bottom to go with the shoes. So the shoes sit in my closet, unworn.
Or I buy shoes that are similar in look and feel because I just like that look and feel. These are usually low-heeled, comfortable walking shoes. I have many pairs of these, but I can only wear one pair at a time.
Or I buy shoes that are on sale. They have to be real cheap. So here's my dilemma today.
I came a cross a pair of lavender flats yesterday. They were kind of cute. I've seen the brand name version of these, which costs over $80 and were comfortable to wear. These particular ones cost $9! $9? I was excited. Lavender/purple happens to be my three-year-old niece's favourite colour right now. I had this bright idea in the store that I would create matching purple outfits for us. I could spend $9 to start the look. I'd then try to get her similar shoes, get us matching t-shirt, and skirt. Except these $9 shoes are very uncomfortable. They are so uncomfortable that when I got them home, I won't even wear them to break them in. Now, do I abandon my matching outfit idea, or go ahead anyway, because it'd be so cute?
I buy shoes that look cute or have a nice colour that I imagine I would wear to create a certain look. But that look often requires new pants or skirt and a new top. By the time I get the shoes home, I've moved beyond that look I had in mind in the shoe store. So I don't buy the top or bottom to go with the shoes. So the shoes sit in my closet, unworn.
Or I buy shoes that are similar in look and feel because I just like that look and feel. These are usually low-heeled, comfortable walking shoes. I have many pairs of these, but I can only wear one pair at a time.
Or I buy shoes that are on sale. They have to be real cheap. So here's my dilemma today.
I came a cross a pair of lavender flats yesterday. They were kind of cute. I've seen the brand name version of these, which costs over $80 and were comfortable to wear. These particular ones cost $9! $9? I was excited. Lavender/purple happens to be my three-year-old niece's favourite colour right now. I had this bright idea in the store that I would create matching purple outfits for us. I could spend $9 to start the look. I'd then try to get her similar shoes, get us matching t-shirt, and skirt. Except these $9 shoes are very uncomfortable. They are so uncomfortable that when I got them home, I won't even wear them to break them in. Now, do I abandon my matching outfit idea, or go ahead anyway, because it'd be so cute?
Saturday, May 14, 2005
Service Lesson
A young woman knocked on my door. She said she's a student. She could be. She's selling household products like Saran, foil, lunch bags, garbage bags and the like. Only she wants $23 per item, four times more expensive than if you bought the same item from a supermarket. I told her I didn't want to pay that much for the items.
She said, "But you are supporting students."
I said, "I would support them if they sold me something useful at a good price. This is a ridiculous markup."
"But students need your support."
"And I would be happy to support them in other real ways. I'm sorry, I can't afford to, nor do I want to pay those prices for these same items I can buy for so much cheaper at a supermarket."
The young woman looked disappointed. Naturally. But she walked away without saying thank you. She just rolled her eyes.
So what's with that? Do the organizers really think they can sell anything at a huge markup if thay attach "student" to the sale? And do they not teach their sales reps manners? When you don't make a sale, you should still thank your prospect for their time, not roll your eyes at them. At this point, even if I felt generous and wanted to part with my money, I'm certainly not going to give it to this woman or this type of organization.
She said, "But you are supporting students."
I said, "I would support them if they sold me something useful at a good price. This is a ridiculous markup."
"But students need your support."
"And I would be happy to support them in other real ways. I'm sorry, I can't afford to, nor do I want to pay those prices for these same items I can buy for so much cheaper at a supermarket."
The young woman looked disappointed. Naturally. But she walked away without saying thank you. She just rolled her eyes.
So what's with that? Do the organizers really think they can sell anything at a huge markup if thay attach "student" to the sale? And do they not teach their sales reps manners? When you don't make a sale, you should still thank your prospect for their time, not roll your eyes at them. At this point, even if I felt generous and wanted to part with my money, I'm certainly not going to give it to this woman or this type of organization.
Sunday, May 08, 2005
Public toilets
I often wonder how public toilets get so filthy. Is it just overuse by many people? Is it a few people who make it messy?
I noticed recently in a woman's washroom that the toilet seat was splashed wet. Assuming the flush had splashed water all over the seat, I wiped dry the seat with toilet paper before using it. But when I flushed after my use, the whirling water did not over splashed onto the seat.
Another time, I noticed a seat with sole marks on it. Obviously, someone's been crouching on the seat to do their business.
So these women who crouch and splash on the seat...they do this because they think the toilet is dirty and don't want their bums to touch the seat? But if they object to dirty washrooms, why aren't they cleaning up properly after their use? They, in fact, are the perpetrators of the dirty washrooms they object to. What's with these people?
I noticed recently in a woman's washroom that the toilet seat was splashed wet. Assuming the flush had splashed water all over the seat, I wiped dry the seat with toilet paper before using it. But when I flushed after my use, the whirling water did not over splashed onto the seat.
Another time, I noticed a seat with sole marks on it. Obviously, someone's been crouching on the seat to do their business.
So these women who crouch and splash on the seat...they do this because they think the toilet is dirty and don't want their bums to touch the seat? But if they object to dirty washrooms, why aren't they cleaning up properly after their use? They, in fact, are the perpetrators of the dirty washrooms they object to. What's with these people?
Saturday, January 01, 2005
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