It was one of those birthdays, you know the kind. The ones that mark a decade or a half-decade or, in my case, the arrival of a new status at a half-decade. I'm now officially a senior and will look forward to whatever perks go with the title. But, it's a weird feeling. On Tuesday, I was officially young, or at least not classed as old; now I'm in a new category. Perhaps the fact that my youngest grandson's voice dropped overnight and he now sounds like a man should have given me a clue, but it didn't.
When a male friend who is three months younger than me called to wish me a happy birthday and ask me how it felt to be officially old (he enjoyed saying that), I said, I didn't know yet. And that's still true today.
I spent the day itself doing whatever came to mind and ignoring my chores. I had a healthy breakfast, chocolate mousse cake for brunch and potato chips for supper. Because, well, because I felt like it. Maybe I needed a small rebellious moment. I also finished reading a mystery and fooled around on the internet.
There's birthday loot of course. I have a brand new pair of walking shoes thanks to the marvellous Viking and a framed photograph of the Port Elgin lighthouse from my daughter. Today is just a regular day so I suppose I shall have to return to the land of responsibiities. Maybe I'll do that after lunch.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Madness in the Marketplace
My brain may only be firing on one cylinder at the moment. Perhaps that's why I fail to understand the cost of things.
My friend, the Bear, had a wheelchair that was chosen for him by the occupational therapist in Toronto. The chair also had a separate air cushion that fit on the seat. The wheelchair is a piece of crap but the cushion can protect my friend's bony rear end when he sits in the dining room. Because he is not using the wheelchair (and because it is a piece of crap) I called the company that had sent it and asked them to take it back. They suggested I rent it for $200 a month and I said no. However, the cushion has a mark on it and could not be returned. So, I asked the price - $541 dollars and that, my friends, is the Adaptive Devices Program price. A special deal indeed! I sent the company a cheque, but I also told them I hoped never to buy anything else from them, ever.
Not everything is as ridiculously expensive as that cushion. I cracked my small Melita coffee pot; the kind that can sit on a stove burner and has a removable cone on top. It's a simple thing. I boiled water and poured the water over the coffee filter and waited for the elixir. When the Viking was here on the weekend he noticed the cracked pot and said he would replace it. He tried, but they don't make basic things anymore. Instead, the inveterate shopper purchased a Black & Decker 12 cup automatic coffee-maker for me. When he delivered it, I wondered where I would put it, since I have so little counter space - but I was also concerned about the price. It cost $15.00. I'm afraid to ask how they do that.
I'm also afraid to look at current gas prices, though I don't drive. The Viking's old van, affectionately known as the green pig, is a very thirsty critter and so, we are unlikely to get out of town much this summer. All energy costs are bound to go up, but we have wise advisers to help us out. David Suzuki suggests we hang our clothes out to dry the old fashioned way. Well, yes, I would love to have a clothes line in the condo's back yard, but I fear the board will not agree.
Happily, sometimes people benefit from expensive purchases made by others. The Bear had an almost new $1800 double bed with an air bladder mattress in his apartment. It was totally unsuitable for his new abode. I didn't want it and it couldn't transport it. Fortunately, the bear's neighbour who assisted me during the final pitch-out day, knew of an older lady on the same floor who needed a bed. She's delighted to have it since she was sleeping on a very old futon, on the floor. And I'm glad to end this on a up-beat note.
My friend, the Bear, had a wheelchair that was chosen for him by the occupational therapist in Toronto. The chair also had a separate air cushion that fit on the seat. The wheelchair is a piece of crap but the cushion can protect my friend's bony rear end when he sits in the dining room. Because he is not using the wheelchair (and because it is a piece of crap) I called the company that had sent it and asked them to take it back. They suggested I rent it for $200 a month and I said no. However, the cushion has a mark on it and could not be returned. So, I asked the price - $541 dollars and that, my friends, is the Adaptive Devices Program price. A special deal indeed! I sent the company a cheque, but I also told them I hoped never to buy anything else from them, ever.
Not everything is as ridiculously expensive as that cushion. I cracked my small Melita coffee pot; the kind that can sit on a stove burner and has a removable cone on top. It's a simple thing. I boiled water and poured the water over the coffee filter and waited for the elixir. When the Viking was here on the weekend he noticed the cracked pot and said he would replace it. He tried, but they don't make basic things anymore. Instead, the inveterate shopper purchased a Black & Decker 12 cup automatic coffee-maker for me. When he delivered it, I wondered where I would put it, since I have so little counter space - but I was also concerned about the price. It cost $15.00. I'm afraid to ask how they do that.
I'm also afraid to look at current gas prices, though I don't drive. The Viking's old van, affectionately known as the green pig, is a very thirsty critter and so, we are unlikely to get out of town much this summer. All energy costs are bound to go up, but we have wise advisers to help us out. David Suzuki suggests we hang our clothes out to dry the old fashioned way. Well, yes, I would love to have a clothes line in the condo's back yard, but I fear the board will not agree.
Happily, sometimes people benefit from expensive purchases made by others. The Bear had an almost new $1800 double bed with an air bladder mattress in his apartment. It was totally unsuitable for his new abode. I didn't want it and it couldn't transport it. Fortunately, the bear's neighbour who assisted me during the final pitch-out day, knew of an older lady on the same floor who needed a bed. She's delighted to have it since she was sleeping on a very old futon, on the floor. And I'm glad to end this on a up-beat note.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
The Urban Archeologist Retires
Late yesterday afternoon, I handed in the keys to my friend's Toronto apartment. A neighbour of his had agreed to remove the few pieces of heavy furniture that remained. The neighbour had a small moving dolly which was helpful, because each piece had to be taken from the top floor apartment to the elevator, then carried up the stairs from the basement level to the street and then towed along the street to the garbage disposal area. The process was time consuming and grit producing, but fortunately, the neighbour didn't complain and of course I paid him for his help. The bear's fairly-new and expensive aeropaedic double bed is now stashed in the hallway but the neighbour has agreed that if one of the elderly people on the same floor does not want it (the solution I'd prefer), then he and a friend will make sure it goes to the garbage disposal area. They may sell it instead of giving it away, but if there is nothing I can do to prevent that scenario.
Locking the door of my friend's apartment for the last time was a relief, but it was also a time of sorrow because my friend, the bear, will never see the place again and because, long ago, we enjoyed many happy hours there.
Something had to be done to commemorate the end of an era and so last night, after a long hot shower, I had some chocolate and a glass of wine. Slainte!
Locking the door of my friend's apartment for the last time was a relief, but it was also a time of sorrow because my friend, the bear, will never see the place again and because, long ago, we enjoyed many happy hours there.
Something had to be done to commemorate the end of an era and so last night, after a long hot shower, I had some chocolate and a glass of wine. Slainte!
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Reflections on Myanmar/Burma, China - and Tide Free
The events of the last few days have been extraordinary or, perhaps overwhelming would be a better word choice. A major typhoon struck Myanmar/Burma and a huge earthquake devastated parts of China.
It's difficult to comprehend. The number of lives lost boggles the imagination and the amount that I can give to help out is minuscule. Though I can't avoid the thought that if everyone responded much could be done.
I recall how the whole world pitched in after the tsunami hit Asia and wonder why these disasters have not yet received the same kind of response. Much is written about compassion fatigue, but is that really what's happening? Or, is the response less because the people affected live in countries whose governments we Westerners are less than pleased with?
For example: News coverage of the Myanmar/Burma disaster makes much mention of the regime's bad policies and yes, the facts should be reported, but I notice that media reports have suddenly began referring to the country as Burma again and I wonder who started that? It will not help improve relations with the junta and may make the rulers even more intractable. Isn't getting help to the people the most important thing? Oh, silly me, of course not. If the United States was not already over committed militarily and broke, and if Bush was not a lame duck president, the Americans could decide to help 'make' Myanmar a democracy.
Then there's China. Many parts of the disaster area are only now becoming accessible and the true extent of the devastation won't be known for quite some time. It looks like the government (such as it is) is doing the best it can and China has asked for help. Parts of China are controlled by war lords and not the central government. Regulations for building construction are few and likely were not enforced; and corruption is endemic. The Chinese government has persecuted people in Tibet. All these things are true. It's also true that China wields huge economic influence, unlike Myanmar, and whatever Western government's reservations are, they will no doubt pitch in with significant amounts of material aid.
A comment on nitty-gritty personal stuff before I return to the main subject, I have nearly reached the end of cleaning out the Bear's apartment. While I had promised myself and my daughter that I would not do any major cleaning, on every visit some clean-up was unavoidable because I couldn't move a step without being covered in dirt from the floor, from the furniture, from every object in the place (especially all the papers). There was a huge supply of paper towels, some half empty bottles of Lysol spray cleaner and a very dusty can of Endust which was unusable. There were also several pairs of rubber gloves and many J cloths and sponges. However; there were no other cleaning agents and I thought I'd have to buy something, until I discovered a half empty box of Tide Free laundry soap powder in one of the kitchen cupboards, along with about 30 light bulbs and 20 tins of salmon and some other unmentionable things. So, since it was available, I decided to use it on the tile wall and the cupboards in the kitchen and in the bathroom. It removed the heavy greasy dirt and left the tiles shining. Probably it's a mix of environmentally unfriendly chemicals. Mea culpa.
I'll end this comment by returning to my concern for the people of Myanmar/ Burma and China and referring you to an excellent article in this month's Harper's magazine: Turning Away from Jesus: Gay Rights and the War for the Episcopal Church by Garret Keizer. It is connected because it is about how we see and respond to other people ; though the last words in the article are not his; they sum up my thoughts and they are the most important. "Feed my sheep."
It's difficult to comprehend. The number of lives lost boggles the imagination and the amount that I can give to help out is minuscule. Though I can't avoid the thought that if everyone responded much could be done.
I recall how the whole world pitched in after the tsunami hit Asia and wonder why these disasters have not yet received the same kind of response. Much is written about compassion fatigue, but is that really what's happening? Or, is the response less because the people affected live in countries whose governments we Westerners are less than pleased with?
For example: News coverage of the Myanmar/Burma disaster makes much mention of the regime's bad policies and yes, the facts should be reported, but I notice that media reports have suddenly began referring to the country as Burma again and I wonder who started that? It will not help improve relations with the junta and may make the rulers even more intractable. Isn't getting help to the people the most important thing? Oh, silly me, of course not. If the United States was not already over committed militarily and broke, and if Bush was not a lame duck president, the Americans could decide to help 'make' Myanmar a democracy.
Then there's China. Many parts of the disaster area are only now becoming accessible and the true extent of the devastation won't be known for quite some time. It looks like the government (such as it is) is doing the best it can and China has asked for help. Parts of China are controlled by war lords and not the central government. Regulations for building construction are few and likely were not enforced; and corruption is endemic. The Chinese government has persecuted people in Tibet. All these things are true. It's also true that China wields huge economic influence, unlike Myanmar, and whatever Western government's reservations are, they will no doubt pitch in with significant amounts of material aid.
A comment on nitty-gritty personal stuff before I return to the main subject, I have nearly reached the end of cleaning out the Bear's apartment. While I had promised myself and my daughter that I would not do any major cleaning, on every visit some clean-up was unavoidable because I couldn't move a step without being covered in dirt from the floor, from the furniture, from every object in the place (especially all the papers). There was a huge supply of paper towels, some half empty bottles of Lysol spray cleaner and a very dusty can of Endust which was unusable. There were also several pairs of rubber gloves and many J cloths and sponges. However; there were no other cleaning agents and I thought I'd have to buy something, until I discovered a half empty box of Tide Free laundry soap powder in one of the kitchen cupboards, along with about 30 light bulbs and 20 tins of salmon and some other unmentionable things. So, since it was available, I decided to use it on the tile wall and the cupboards in the kitchen and in the bathroom. It removed the heavy greasy dirt and left the tiles shining. Probably it's a mix of environmentally unfriendly chemicals. Mea culpa.
I'll end this comment by returning to my concern for the people of Myanmar/ Burma and China and referring you to an excellent article in this month's Harper's magazine: Turning Away from Jesus: Gay Rights and the War for the Episcopal Church by Garret Keizer. It is connected because it is about how we see and respond to other people ; though the last words in the article are not his; they sum up my thoughts and they are the most important. "Feed my sheep."
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Near the Top of the Hill, Maybe
For the first time, I think I can see the top of the hill which represents all my friend's needs and wants. I'll never be able to satisfy all his wants, but I'm close to meeting most of his current needs. That's progress. Old skills have come in handy. For example, I've hemmed five pairs of trousers this week. The results are far from professional, but they are good enough. I've coped with weird demands that don't make objective sense, but do make sense to my eccentric and sometimes confused friend. Doing so reminded me of when I ran the Adult Day Program. Sometimes it was easier to fulfill a strange request than to argue about it. It still is.
There's been little time for other things, but I managed to return my overdue library books and take out one forgettable paperback mystery novel. It was soothing to read at night because I knew the culprit would be caught and all would be resolved. Perhaps that's why many middle-aged and older people read mysteries; we crave resolution but we know that real life seldom if ever works that way.
There's been little time for other things, but I managed to return my overdue library books and take out one forgettable paperback mystery novel. It was soothing to read at night because I knew the culprit would be caught and all would be resolved. Perhaps that's why many middle-aged and older people read mysteries; we crave resolution but we know that real life seldom if ever works that way.
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Fearless Cave Explorer Plumbs the Depths
The excavation continues. The Viking now refers to me as his dust bunny even though he hasn't seen me wearing the after effects of a cave episode.
However; other people have. On Wednesday, after a five hour shift in the dust palace, I decided to take a short break. I washed my face and hands and walked over to Church and Wellesley. The majority of the natty male people on the street looked askance at my dusty coat and jeans, while others made sure not to stare, lest I accost them for spare change. The proprietor of Baskin Robbins was pleased to serve me ice cream in a dish, and I watched other customers as I sat on a stool and consumed my treat. I noticed that there is a cool way to order ice cream and a non-cool way. You order your scoop of ice cream in a cup, not a cone, and don't refer to it as a dish. That tip is free - you too, can be cool, or bad, or, whatever the saying is today.
When I returned to the cave, it was time to take large garbage bags to the basement garage. The Bear's cave is on the top floor of a large old apartment building and the garbage chutes on each floor have an opening barely large enough for a pair of shoes to pass through, especially if said shoes are size 13. So, I took the elevator to the basement several times with large garbage bags, which I balanced on an old bundle buggy. On my second trip to the big bins, I encountered a garbage picker. He was going through a bag I had just thrown in. I'll admit, he was very polite and said he collected things for garage sales. It was tempting to invite him upstairs, but sanity prevailed and I didn't.
By Thursday evening I had 'had the biscuit' so, after sneaking back into my hotel and enjoying an extremely long hot shower, I treated myself to a salad, a club sandwich and a Rickart's Red in the hotel bar. The food was excellent and I watched some of the Masters Golf tournament while munching. The beer was also good, but, according to the bartender, next time, I should order a half-pint for a half-pint, because I couldn't finish my pint. Meanwhile, the two industrial salesmen at the table next to me both had three drinks, while talking on cell phones, talking to each other, and texting on their Blackberries. One thing is very clear, I do not have a future in sales.
The only other tip I can offer is of the Molly Maid type. I discovered that I could use the green stuff (it used to be called Dustbane and people used it on their garage floors ) and scatter it over places where the dust is the thickest, then very carefully sweep it into a pile. Dust still rose up to choke me, but it was not quite as deadly.
I'd better go and do my own cleaning because, I think I smell dust.
However; other people have. On Wednesday, after a five hour shift in the dust palace, I decided to take a short break. I washed my face and hands and walked over to Church and Wellesley. The majority of the natty male people on the street looked askance at my dusty coat and jeans, while others made sure not to stare, lest I accost them for spare change. The proprietor of Baskin Robbins was pleased to serve me ice cream in a dish, and I watched other customers as I sat on a stool and consumed my treat. I noticed that there is a cool way to order ice cream and a non-cool way. You order your scoop of ice cream in a cup, not a cone, and don't refer to it as a dish. That tip is free - you too, can be cool, or bad, or, whatever the saying is today.
When I returned to the cave, it was time to take large garbage bags to the basement garage. The Bear's cave is on the top floor of a large old apartment building and the garbage chutes on each floor have an opening barely large enough for a pair of shoes to pass through, especially if said shoes are size 13. So, I took the elevator to the basement several times with large garbage bags, which I balanced on an old bundle buggy. On my second trip to the big bins, I encountered a garbage picker. He was going through a bag I had just thrown in. I'll admit, he was very polite and said he collected things for garage sales. It was tempting to invite him upstairs, but sanity prevailed and I didn't.
By Thursday evening I had 'had the biscuit' so, after sneaking back into my hotel and enjoying an extremely long hot shower, I treated myself to a salad, a club sandwich and a Rickart's Red in the hotel bar. The food was excellent and I watched some of the Masters Golf tournament while munching. The beer was also good, but, according to the bartender, next time, I should order a half-pint for a half-pint, because I couldn't finish my pint. Meanwhile, the two industrial salesmen at the table next to me both had three drinks, while talking on cell phones, talking to each other, and texting on their Blackberries. One thing is very clear, I do not have a future in sales.
The only other tip I can offer is of the Molly Maid type. I discovered that I could use the green stuff (it used to be called Dustbane and people used it on their garage floors ) and scatter it over places where the dust is the thickest, then very carefully sweep it into a pile. Dust still rose up to choke me, but it was not quite as deadly.
I'd better go and do my own cleaning because, I think I smell dust.
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
The Big Move and the Urban Archeologist
On Monday, my friend the bear, moved from Toronto to Kitchener. I had hired a wheelchair van and we left Kitchener at 7 in the morning and hoped to be in Toronto by 9 or 9:30. Of course it rained and of course the traffic was horrendous. The van driver entertained me with the story of his travel to Alberta for Christmas and the many breakdowns of his motor home. It was 10:30 by the time we arrived at the hospital and just after 11:00 when we loaded the bear and his wheelchair, his walker and his suitcase into the van. We arrived at his new Kitchener living quarters at noon. I did not watch the van's speedometer while we were on the return trip. I did pray that we would not be stopped by the OPP as we sped along the 401.
It's weird to be completely in charge of another person's life and it leaves very little time for leading my own life, at least at present. I'm still winding my way through my friend's very tangled financial affairs. I wonder if the tendency to hoard things is more prevalent in men. Suggestions for things to tear up and throw out, if you haven't yet: ten-year-old paid utilities bills, Olympic lottery tickets from 1976, fifteen-year-old credit card statements, very old bank books from closed accounts, expired insurance policies, stacks of old telephone books, expired drivers licences etc And believe me, there is a hell of a lot of etc..
Other things to get rid of - stacks of very old newspapers, socks that do not match ( it seems to me I've mentioned socks before - I am still finding more of them) clothes that do not and will never fit, or be usable again. That's only a partial list of course and I will be excavating at my friend's apartment again next week. I might even find the floor soon. It's there somewhere under all the stuff; I just know it.
Meanwhile, there is hope for better things. The sun is shining, the weeds are green and my tax refund has arrived. It's not a huge refund, so I don't have to be too practical about how I spend some of it. Besides, I'm so immersed in taking care of the practicalities of my friend's life that I need to do something frivolous, though of course I'll save most of it. Perhaps I'll buy something soft and silky, or some new sheet music (if I ever get to to Music Plus), or a new CD. Before that though, I have to find disposable masks for my next trip.
This is the urban archaeologist, signing out for now.
It's weird to be completely in charge of another person's life and it leaves very little time for leading my own life, at least at present. I'm still winding my way through my friend's very tangled financial affairs. I wonder if the tendency to hoard things is more prevalent in men. Suggestions for things to tear up and throw out, if you haven't yet: ten-year-old paid utilities bills, Olympic lottery tickets from 1976, fifteen-year-old credit card statements, very old bank books from closed accounts, expired insurance policies, stacks of old telephone books, expired drivers licences etc And believe me, there is a hell of a lot of etc..
Other things to get rid of - stacks of very old newspapers, socks that do not match ( it seems to me I've mentioned socks before - I am still finding more of them) clothes that do not and will never fit, or be usable again. That's only a partial list of course and I will be excavating at my friend's apartment again next week. I might even find the floor soon. It's there somewhere under all the stuff; I just know it.
Meanwhile, there is hope for better things. The sun is shining, the weeds are green and my tax refund has arrived. It's not a huge refund, so I don't have to be too practical about how I spend some of it. Besides, I'm so immersed in taking care of the practicalities of my friend's life that I need to do something frivolous, though of course I'll save most of it. Perhaps I'll buy something soft and silky, or some new sheet music (if I ever get to to Music Plus), or a new CD. Before that though, I have to find disposable masks for my next trip.
This is the urban archaeologist, signing out for now.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Snow Again Must Mean Travel, Again.
The snow is blowing past my windows so fast that it obscures my view. Maybe by tomorrow it will stop and the bus to Toronto will leave on time and arrive in the big smoke on time. I had considered leaving this afternoon but I continue to wait for people to call me back. My theme song of the moment is 'someday my call will come.' No prince required, when there's a Viking nearby.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Mild Mannered Reporter Not Hornswoggled or Bamboozled.
This just in from your mild-mannered reporter on the banking front. Some folk who work in banks believe that seniors can be hornswoggled or bamboozled by the flummery of brightly coloured papers. However, this getting-older-by-the-minute scribe was not impressed by charts, tables, market predictions, or any other flim-flammery.
Did you know that you could invest money in a GIC based on bank values that is, according to the person who showed me the information, 'not based on the stock market?" What twaddle! Of course the GIC has to be based on the value of the banks' stock. and furthermore, according to the fine print, if the index declines in value you receive no return though of course your principal remains protected. How on earth does it qualify as a GIC? That could have been your intrepid reporter's question, and she will ask it as soon as she recovers.
In the meantime, she may investigate the value of sock companies' shares because there's always a market for socks in colder parts of the world.
Did you know that you could invest money in a GIC based on bank values that is, according to the person who showed me the information, 'not based on the stock market?" What twaddle! Of course the GIC has to be based on the value of the banks' stock. and furthermore, according to the fine print, if the index declines in value you receive no return though of course your principal remains protected. How on earth does it qualify as a GIC? That could have been your intrepid reporter's question, and she will ask it as soon as she recovers.
In the meantime, she may investigate the value of sock companies' shares because there's always a market for socks in colder parts of the world.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Tales from Behind the Snow Banks
It's official, Kitchener set a new record for snow. I don't know if it also set a record for accidents, but it would not surprise me if that was the case.
One has to edge out cautiously when accessing the road whether by car, or on foot. My daughter has had accidental guests three times in the last few days because she lives very close to a dangerous intersection. I almost escaped the after-effects of the storm. However, this morning while walking to the bank, I slipped and fell on my tush thanks to some black ice. Only my ego has been damaged, as far as I can tell. I have mended the damage by consuming a chocolate Easter egg. I recommend that solution
My daughter is also the only person I know who wants more snow to fall. I'm doing my best to help her out. I have not seen the long range weather forecast yet, but since I plan to go to Toronto on Tuesday, I'd bet on more snow that day. My record is consistent. It snows every time I get on the bus. So, put your money down now. The odds are excellent.
One has to edge out cautiously when accessing the road whether by car, or on foot. My daughter has had accidental guests three times in the last few days because she lives very close to a dangerous intersection. I almost escaped the after-effects of the storm. However, this morning while walking to the bank, I slipped and fell on my tush thanks to some black ice. Only my ego has been damaged, as far as I can tell. I have mended the damage by consuming a chocolate Easter egg. I recommend that solution
My daughter is also the only person I know who wants more snow to fall. I'm doing my best to help her out. I have not seen the long range weather forecast yet, but since I plan to go to Toronto on Tuesday, I'd bet on more snow that day. My record is consistent. It snows every time I get on the bus. So, put your money down now. The odds are excellent.
Friday, February 29, 2008
My Friend's Financial Career and other Rambling Thoughts
One of Stephen Leacock's best known stories is My Financial Career. It's about one ordinary man's encounter with the mysteries and hazards of banking. After my experiences of the last few days, I appreciate the story even more than I did when I first heard it on CBC radio.
I am acting on behalf of a sick friend and I have all the documentation the government says is sufficient. Nevertheless, almost every one of the big five banks wanted one of their own Power of Attorney forms signed and witnessed. Fortuately, I was able to prevail, thanks to my ability to conceal anxiety and present a stern school marm face. My passport has now been in more banks than countries. Also, I have so much paper that I will have to acquire another file box or three.
Now I understand why my friend had so many uncashed cheques in his apartment. It's a wonder he didn't keep them in a sock, like Leacock's protagonist did. My friend did the next best thing though, he put his money in accounts that earn almost no interest.
I've considered writing an article about how each bank has responded, complete with ratings, but I doubt any newspaper would want to publish it, because I would have to use a nom de plume. In any event, I have no time to write it because the next fearsome task looms.
Usually, I read for a while before I go to sleep but lately I've been conking out after three pages instead of twenty or thirty pages. I'm part way through Late Nights On Air by Elizabeth Hay and for me, one of the best things about the book is all the references to CBC radio - the old announcers and the programs I listened to when I was young. I need to finish the book before it is due back at the library because a neighbour took it out on her card and lent it to me after she read it. I might stay up late tonight and finish the book, since my weekend dance card is filled and next week I return to Toronto. But, before I do, maybe I'll buy more socks.
I am acting on behalf of a sick friend and I have all the documentation the government says is sufficient. Nevertheless, almost every one of the big five banks wanted one of their own Power of Attorney forms signed and witnessed. Fortuately, I was able to prevail, thanks to my ability to conceal anxiety and present a stern school marm face. My passport has now been in more banks than countries. Also, I have so much paper that I will have to acquire another file box or three.
Now I understand why my friend had so many uncashed cheques in his apartment. It's a wonder he didn't keep them in a sock, like Leacock's protagonist did. My friend did the next best thing though, he put his money in accounts that earn almost no interest.
I've considered writing an article about how each bank has responded, complete with ratings, but I doubt any newspaper would want to publish it, because I would have to use a nom de plume. In any event, I have no time to write it because the next fearsome task looms.
Usually, I read for a while before I go to sleep but lately I've been conking out after three pages instead of twenty or thirty pages. I'm part way through Late Nights On Air by Elizabeth Hay and for me, one of the best things about the book is all the references to CBC radio - the old announcers and the programs I listened to when I was young. I need to finish the book before it is due back at the library because a neighbour took it out on her card and lent it to me after she read it. I might stay up late tonight and finish the book, since my weekend dance card is filled and next week I return to Toronto. But, before I do, maybe I'll buy more socks.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Joyful News
Let me get right to the good stuff.
My friend, Lori Hahnel, is currently making final minor revisions to her novel, Take Me Disappearing. It has been accepted by Oberon (subject to her revisions meeting their approval as I've no doubt they will) and it will be published this fall. That's right, amazingly enough, they will publish it this year. Usually literary novels take longer than that to go to press but not this time.
I am thrilled for her and plan to celebrate her success with a fine single malt scotch whenever I can make to to the LCBO. Heck! maybe I'll even go this afternoon, because if I don't get busy and celebrate, when will I have time?
But that story is for another blog.
This one is all about Lori.
Cheers!
My friend, Lori Hahnel, is currently making final minor revisions to her novel, Take Me Disappearing. It has been accepted by Oberon (subject to her revisions meeting their approval as I've no doubt they will) and it will be published this fall. That's right, amazingly enough, they will publish it this year. Usually literary novels take longer than that to go to press but not this time.
I am thrilled for her and plan to celebrate her success with a fine single malt scotch whenever I can make to to the LCBO. Heck! maybe I'll even go this afternoon, because if I don't get busy and celebrate, when will I have time?
But that story is for another blog.
This one is all about Lori.
Cheers!
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Sandwich, anyone?
Recently, a friend's blog gave her thoughts on being a member of the sandwich generation. Normally this saying refers to adult children who care for their aging parents and for their own children at the same time. There are different kinds of sandwiches though and I'm the middle part of one now and I will be for some time to come.
I don't have aging parents to care for - heck, I'm the aging parent, but I do have an older friend with no family and he needs all kinds of help. Meanwhile, my adult child could use some help too. The Viking doesn't require my help, he but enjoys our time together as much as I do, and now there's less time for us.
In addition to dealing with several banks and trying to sort out a financial muddle (I'd call it something else but I'm being polite here.); I am gathering information on retirement living options, looking for an acountant, and tomorrow, my bum will no doubt be warming a seat at Service Canada for hours since I must sort out a pension snafu.
This weekend, I'll be making my grandsons mind me or offering them bribes, whichever one I'm in the mood for, while their parents take a break. And next week I'll be in Toronto for four days.
The Viking said, you have an interesting life. Isn't - may you have an interesting life - a curse according to some eastern philosophy?
I'd like to settle down and put the final touches to a short story that's almost ready to go out. I'd like to, but instead I have to recheck and then add up columns of numbers and see if I can get the same result three times in a row. Not so simple when you're me and have a tendency to reverse digits.
It must be time for coffee, with a pickle on the side.
I don't have aging parents to care for - heck, I'm the aging parent, but I do have an older friend with no family and he needs all kinds of help. Meanwhile, my adult child could use some help too. The Viking doesn't require my help, he but enjoys our time together as much as I do, and now there's less time for us.
In addition to dealing with several banks and trying to sort out a financial muddle (I'd call it something else but I'm being polite here.); I am gathering information on retirement living options, looking for an acountant, and tomorrow, my bum will no doubt be warming a seat at Service Canada for hours since I must sort out a pension snafu.
This weekend, I'll be making my grandsons mind me or offering them bribes, whichever one I'm in the mood for, while their parents take a break. And next week I'll be in Toronto for four days.
The Viking said, you have an interesting life. Isn't - may you have an interesting life - a curse according to some eastern philosophy?
I'd like to settle down and put the final touches to a short story that's almost ready to go out. I'd like to, but instead I have to recheck and then add up columns of numbers and see if I can get the same result three times in a row. Not so simple when you're me and have a tendency to reverse digits.
It must be time for coffee, with a pickle on the side.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Robert Weaver Remembered
Robert Weaver nourished and championed many outstanding Canadian writers through his work with the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. He also published anthologies and was responsible for the creation of the CBC literary awards. Because of Robert Weaver, the CBC was the first venue for the work of many fine Canadian writers back when the CBC believed that presenting the best work of Canadian writers would be appreciated by listeners throughout Canada. It was.
Thank you Mr. Weaver. May you romp in the Elysian fields forever.
Thank you Mr. Weaver. May you romp in the Elysian fields forever.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
The Weather: External and Internal
We were only supposed to get a little snow today, but Mother Nature was not listening to the weather forecast on our local CTV channel. Instead, she decided to send a January-like amount of the white stuff and blow it in every direction.
The weather suits my mood as I feel like I'm being blown about too. My Toronto visit was exhausting and most likely I'll have to pay a return visit to my sick friend very soon since I am his only close friend and he has no immediate family. When I was working, I met quite a few reclusive seniors who had little or no contact with their families and I was able empathize with them and still be professional. It's much harder when the reclusive older person is someone I know very well. He is confused and frail now and may never be able to return to his home. Of course, he is only one of many older people who are in the same dreadful predicament. His situation reminds me to be grateful for having a loving family and cherished friends, and I am.
Speaking of cherished friends, my friend Lori Hahnel has had more success. One of her short stories, Leading Men (published in Prairie Fire) has been nominated for the Journey Prize, and another of her stories has been accepted by Room of One's Own. Said story was rejected many many times before ROM chose to accept it. Lori is on a streak, and long may it continue.
Now, if I could stop thinking about my sick friend, maybe I could rewrite something.
The weather suits my mood as I feel like I'm being blown about too. My Toronto visit was exhausting and most likely I'll have to pay a return visit to my sick friend very soon since I am his only close friend and he has no immediate family. When I was working, I met quite a few reclusive seniors who had little or no contact with their families and I was able empathize with them and still be professional. It's much harder when the reclusive older person is someone I know very well. He is confused and frail now and may never be able to return to his home. Of course, he is only one of many older people who are in the same dreadful predicament. His situation reminds me to be grateful for having a loving family and cherished friends, and I am.
Speaking of cherished friends, my friend Lori Hahnel has had more success. One of her short stories, Leading Men (published in Prairie Fire) has been nominated for the Journey Prize, and another of her stories has been accepted by Room of One's Own. Said story was rejected many many times before ROM chose to accept it. Lori is on a streak, and long may it continue.
Now, if I could stop thinking about my sick friend, maybe I could rewrite something.
Monday, January 07, 2008
Ten Degrees of Separation - One Thousand International Units of Frustration
Over the last few days, I've had the distinct impression that I am either a non-person, or a person who may commit a crime at any moment. I'm pretty sure I'm a person and I haven't committed any crimes, or at least none that I can recall. But at first people were distinctly unhelpful.
It all started when I became concerned because I couldn't contact a dear old friend. I tried and tried, since we had agreed I would visit him last Wednesday, but I couldn't get an answer. So, I went to Toronto and discovered that he had fallen and had been taken to hospital. I visited him there. I know that am his one and only contact and that he had given my name to his doctor and others (including the CCAC), I tried to get information on his status. I pestered the nurses and the hospital social worker for his unit. No one would tell me anything. Privacy laws protected him and that's fine, but I knew my name was down on the list somewhere, only no one would bother to look. I was in Toronto for two days and then had to return home and try connecting with the people in charge via long distance calls. Yes, now I am ranting, sorry about that.
After a lot of calls to Toronto, including several to the CCAC whose whole computer system was down for hours, I was finally able to confirm that I was listed as the 'consent' person. That allowed me to pry a little information from the nurse responsible for my friend's care. She tells me he is making some progress toward recovery and he wants to know where his shoes are. I can't help with that, and no one seems to know where his personal things have gone.
I guess more long distance calls will be in my future, and I know I'll be making sure my daughter is still aware of where to find my Will and my Power of Attorney. My friend has not made a Will or chosen a substitute decision maker and should he not recover his wits, there will be a huge mess. So, if anyone reading this has postponed making a Will, or enabling someone to act for you, should you not be able to make decisions, then - DO IT NOW!
It all started when I became concerned because I couldn't contact a dear old friend. I tried and tried, since we had agreed I would visit him last Wednesday, but I couldn't get an answer. So, I went to Toronto and discovered that he had fallen and had been taken to hospital. I visited him there. I know that am his one and only contact and that he had given my name to his doctor and others (including the CCAC), I tried to get information on his status. I pestered the nurses and the hospital social worker for his unit. No one would tell me anything. Privacy laws protected him and that's fine, but I knew my name was down on the list somewhere, only no one would bother to look. I was in Toronto for two days and then had to return home and try connecting with the people in charge via long distance calls. Yes, now I am ranting, sorry about that.
After a lot of calls to Toronto, including several to the CCAC whose whole computer system was down for hours, I was finally able to confirm that I was listed as the 'consent' person. That allowed me to pry a little information from the nurse responsible for my friend's care. She tells me he is making some progress toward recovery and he wants to know where his shoes are. I can't help with that, and no one seems to know where his personal things have gone.
I guess more long distance calls will be in my future, and I know I'll be making sure my daughter is still aware of where to find my Will and my Power of Attorney. My friend has not made a Will or chosen a substitute decision maker and should he not recover his wits, there will be a huge mess. So, if anyone reading this has postponed making a Will, or enabling someone to act for you, should you not be able to make decisions, then - DO IT NOW!
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
The Day After Christmas
It's a quiet sunny day, the trees are cloaked in ice and there is very little traffic in this part of town. The Boxing Day bargain scavengers are no doubt scurrying through the malls and snapping up things they may regret buying later. As for me, I prefer to stay home and I need time to recover from all the Christmas events. I had a four day Christmas this year.
It started on Friday, when D. and I went to his daughter's place in Embro for Christmas lunch. And while she referred to it as lunch, it was really a full-scale dinner and we didn't need to eat anything else for the rest of the day, or the next day, but of course, we did.
Saturday, D. arrived carrying a new microwave oven for me. On Sunday D. and I opened gifts and had a peaceful day.
Nancy and her family arrived home Monday evening and so we were able to spend Christmas eve and Christmas day together. Nancy and Gary and the boys went to Christmas eve midnight mass, but I was knackered and went to bed. However, I was awakened by the fragrance of home-made spaghetti and joined them for a snack at 2 a.m. Christmas day didn't start until about 9:30, when I got up and turned on the coffee maker, the rest of the crew emerged shortly thereafter and we had brunch and Nancy and Gary prepared the turkey dinner.
There is always at least one snag in every Christmas Day, at least in our family. Gary's mom lives in a long-term care facility in Waterloo, but the plan was to bring her to the house for Christmas dinner and then take her back afterward. Gary and his brother went to pick her up, but she decided she wanted to stay put. So Gary drove back to the house to pack up dinner for his mom and his brother and take it to them. Gary needed someone to drive up with him in a second car so that his brother would be able to come back after eating dinner. Are you confused yet? Well if not, you are the only one who understands what was going on. Frank senior (my former husband) volunteered to follow Gary. So, Gary set off in the family car, and Frank tried to follow him in his car, Alas, Gary forgot that Frank was following him and he forgot that Frank had never been to the facility. Frank got thoroughly lost. Fortunately he had his cell phone with him and he called Nancy for directions. It was dark and the long-term care home is in a weird part of Waterloo that is only accessible by taking a roundabout and then backtracking. Are you lost yet? Frank still was. I'm still not sure how he was able to follow Nancy's directions, but somehow he managed and things worked out. Dinner was delayed by over an hour, but it was still mighty delicious.
Frankie and Sam are ecstatic because, between them, they have enough money to buy an Xbox 360. In fact, Frank might be at the mall right now, checking out prices. I don't know what is so enticing about the Xbox and probably never will, but then, I don't need to know.
I do know it was a very special Christmas and I have the Minnie Mouse to prove it.
Happy New Year to all of you.
It started on Friday, when D. and I went to his daughter's place in Embro for Christmas lunch. And while she referred to it as lunch, it was really a full-scale dinner and we didn't need to eat anything else for the rest of the day, or the next day, but of course, we did.
Saturday, D. arrived carrying a new microwave oven for me. On Sunday D. and I opened gifts and had a peaceful day.
Nancy and her family arrived home Monday evening and so we were able to spend Christmas eve and Christmas day together. Nancy and Gary and the boys went to Christmas eve midnight mass, but I was knackered and went to bed. However, I was awakened by the fragrance of home-made spaghetti and joined them for a snack at 2 a.m. Christmas day didn't start until about 9:30, when I got up and turned on the coffee maker, the rest of the crew emerged shortly thereafter and we had brunch and Nancy and Gary prepared the turkey dinner.
There is always at least one snag in every Christmas Day, at least in our family. Gary's mom lives in a long-term care facility in Waterloo, but the plan was to bring her to the house for Christmas dinner and then take her back afterward. Gary and his brother went to pick her up, but she decided she wanted to stay put. So Gary drove back to the house to pack up dinner for his mom and his brother and take it to them. Gary needed someone to drive up with him in a second car so that his brother would be able to come back after eating dinner. Are you confused yet? Well if not, you are the only one who understands what was going on. Frank senior (my former husband) volunteered to follow Gary. So, Gary set off in the family car, and Frank tried to follow him in his car, Alas, Gary forgot that Frank was following him and he forgot that Frank had never been to the facility. Frank got thoroughly lost. Fortunately he had his cell phone with him and he called Nancy for directions. It was dark and the long-term care home is in a weird part of Waterloo that is only accessible by taking a roundabout and then backtracking. Are you lost yet? Frank still was. I'm still not sure how he was able to follow Nancy's directions, but somehow he managed and things worked out. Dinner was delayed by over an hour, but it was still mighty delicious.
Frankie and Sam are ecstatic because, between them, they have enough money to buy an Xbox 360. In fact, Frank might be at the mall right now, checking out prices. I don't know what is so enticing about the Xbox and probably never will, but then, I don't need to know.
I do know it was a very special Christmas and I have the Minnie Mouse to prove it.
Happy New Year to all of you.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Snow, Snow, Snow, Shop, Shop, Shop. Stop
We have snow. There is enough of it to go over my boot tops, should I happen to step off the sidewalk and into a snowbank. The effects of the storm were still here on Monday, so I stayed home, and of course by today, I thought of more things I needed to buy for Christmas. It always works that way for me. Sure, I do advance planning and the presents I ordered from the Avon guy have arrived as have a couple of other things. Christmas cards and a present to a far away friend have been mailed. But there is nothing like the urgency of the last few days before the holiday to put me back into a shopping frame of mind. And besides, it snowed.
So, I took the bus to the little mall at Bridgeport and Weber. It's not as horrendously busy as the big malls and I can usually find a bargain or two. The bus arrived almost on time and the driver was letting people off at shoveled driveways rather than at snow-burdened bus stops. It didn't take me long to spend almost $100 between Zellers and the grocery store. And it could all be carried in two very heavy bags. I still haven't found another something special for Frank and Sam, but that may happen when I go to the Highland Hills Mall on Thursday. I have to go there, the dentist's office is in the mall. But that may be another story.
I mentioned heavy bags, because when the bus came to take me home, it didn't stop in a more or less snow free area. And, there was an older (older than me) woman attempting to get off the bus with her walker. The driver did at least lower the bus. The woman took one step backwards off the bus and her foot sank into the snowbank. The young man who was waiting for the bus with me just stood there. I transferred both my bags to one hand and assisted the woman with the walker to reach the sidewalk safely. I don't blame the young man, he probably was not sure what to do, or how to do it safely. I do blame the bus driver, at least a little, for not stopping in a better spot. If I had had more foresight. I would have handed my grocery bags to the young man, then I would have had the use of both hands. My shoulder is a bit sore now, so it's time to stop shopping, for today.
I think I'll wrap presents and put them under my little green plastic tree while listening to Christmas music. That's a better way to spend the rest of my afternoon. As the song says, Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow!
Merry Christmas to all, and Merry Xmas too!
So, I took the bus to the little mall at Bridgeport and Weber. It's not as horrendously busy as the big malls and I can usually find a bargain or two. The bus arrived almost on time and the driver was letting people off at shoveled driveways rather than at snow-burdened bus stops. It didn't take me long to spend almost $100 between Zellers and the grocery store. And it could all be carried in two very heavy bags. I still haven't found another something special for Frank and Sam, but that may happen when I go to the Highland Hills Mall on Thursday. I have to go there, the dentist's office is in the mall. But that may be another story.
I mentioned heavy bags, because when the bus came to take me home, it didn't stop in a more or less snow free area. And, there was an older (older than me) woman attempting to get off the bus with her walker. The driver did at least lower the bus. The woman took one step backwards off the bus and her foot sank into the snowbank. The young man who was waiting for the bus with me just stood there. I transferred both my bags to one hand and assisted the woman with the walker to reach the sidewalk safely. I don't blame the young man, he probably was not sure what to do, or how to do it safely. I do blame the bus driver, at least a little, for not stopping in a better spot. If I had had more foresight. I would have handed my grocery bags to the young man, then I would have had the use of both hands. My shoulder is a bit sore now, so it's time to stop shopping, for today.
I think I'll wrap presents and put them under my little green plastic tree while listening to Christmas music. That's a better way to spend the rest of my afternoon. As the song says, Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow!
Merry Christmas to all, and Merry Xmas too!
Thursday, December 13, 2007
The Mortimer Bus Gang and The Murder
On Monday, I went to Toronto to get together with four people I hadn't seen in about five years. We originally met on the Mortimer 62 bus. We all lived in the same neighbourhood at the time and it turned out that we had, and still have, some things in common. Mostly, I think we share a belief in what I'll call the Canadian ideal.
We are a disparate group in some ways. We come from different parts of the world. Three of us chose to become Canadians, two of us were born here, and of those two, one is aboriginal. Our skin colours range from pale and somewhat pink after one beer, to very dark brown. Our religious beliefs and lack of belief, also vary. We all have children who were born in Canada.
When we reunited and shared some of our stories, there was much laughter and then some serious discussion of what should be expected from people who are Canadian. The discussion was prompted by the very recent murder of a young Muslim girl. Her father is said to have murdered her because she did not follow the rules of his culture and she would not wear the head covering. We were all appalled and saddened by the event, though some of us were less shocked than others.
It can be extremely difficult for first generation Canadians to accept the choices their children make, especially when the children break cultural or religious rules. Two of our gang told us of the ways their own children had rebelled and of their reactions as parents. They were angry, yes, but that anger was tempered by their belief that they needed to act in accordance with the Canadian ideal.
I don't think we defined what the Canadian ideal is, but perhaps we defined what it isn't. Tolerance of difference does not include accepting differences that are harmful or discriminatory to a person, whether the intolerance has it's origin in culture, in faith, or in race, it makes no difference. It is simply wrong.
If the Canadian ideal ever becomes a wide spread reality, and I'd like to think it can; it will happen slowly, over generations. I am an optimist, but as my friends have proved, I am not alone. If sixty years ago, a small and very disparate group like the Mortimer bus gang had met at a bus stop, would we all have immediately started chatting with one another? Probably not, because it would have seemed too strange, too threatening, both for the brown people (including a large very fit, dark brown man) and for the one pink person. I remain cautiously hopeful and "as Canadian as possible, under the circumstances."
We are a disparate group in some ways. We come from different parts of the world. Three of us chose to become Canadians, two of us were born here, and of those two, one is aboriginal. Our skin colours range from pale and somewhat pink after one beer, to very dark brown. Our religious beliefs and lack of belief, also vary. We all have children who were born in Canada.
When we reunited and shared some of our stories, there was much laughter and then some serious discussion of what should be expected from people who are Canadian. The discussion was prompted by the very recent murder of a young Muslim girl. Her father is said to have murdered her because she did not follow the rules of his culture and she would not wear the head covering. We were all appalled and saddened by the event, though some of us were less shocked than others.
It can be extremely difficult for first generation Canadians to accept the choices their children make, especially when the children break cultural or religious rules. Two of our gang told us of the ways their own children had rebelled and of their reactions as parents. They were angry, yes, but that anger was tempered by their belief that they needed to act in accordance with the Canadian ideal.
I don't think we defined what the Canadian ideal is, but perhaps we defined what it isn't. Tolerance of difference does not include accepting differences that are harmful or discriminatory to a person, whether the intolerance has it's origin in culture, in faith, or in race, it makes no difference. It is simply wrong.
If the Canadian ideal ever becomes a wide spread reality, and I'd like to think it can; it will happen slowly, over generations. I am an optimist, but as my friends have proved, I am not alone. If sixty years ago, a small and very disparate group like the Mortimer bus gang had met at a bus stop, would we all have immediately started chatting with one another? Probably not, because it would have seemed too strange, too threatening, both for the brown people (including a large very fit, dark brown man) and for the one pink person. I remain cautiously hopeful and "as Canadian as possible, under the circumstances."
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
How Do I Avoid Thee. Let Me Count The Ways
It is the last week of November. If I could, I would get rid of November altogether. November is far too dreary with its short dull days and long dark nights. There is no hope of weather that would require shorts and tee shirts, but my summer wardrobe didn't get packed away until yesterday. Was I hoping for a summer day to appear in November? No, I was just avoiding the task. I'm good at that.
For instance, it took me about a year to decide to contact O****d magazine about a submission for which I had received no reply. I sent the magazine an email and then two weeks later another email. After no response to my emails, I sent them a letter. It, too, has not been answered. It occurred to me that perhaps I should send them an - I withdraw my submission - letter. But that would be pointless, so I can avoid doing that. Instead, I decided to revise the story, and I started to do that, but other events interceded. It's on the work list, but not yet completed.
I needed a new coat last year, and the year before that, but I postponed shopping for one and by January, all the medium size coats in my price-range had disappeared. Avoiding things has its benefits. I saved money and finally, two weeks ago, I did find and buy a coat. It was a close call though. If D. had not been with me I might have resisted because I didn't want to carry the coat home on the bus.
I have quilts that I need to take to the laundromat since they are too large for my small washer/dryer. But now, there is snow and ice on the ground. I think I'll wait.
There is a flu shot clinic today and I can't avoid that since it is the only one in my area. However, before the day is over, I'm sure I'll find something else to avoid. As I said, I'm good at it.
For instance, it took me about a year to decide to contact O****d magazine about a submission for which I had received no reply. I sent the magazine an email and then two weeks later another email. After no response to my emails, I sent them a letter. It, too, has not been answered. It occurred to me that perhaps I should send them an - I withdraw my submission - letter. But that would be pointless, so I can avoid doing that. Instead, I decided to revise the story, and I started to do that, but other events interceded. It's on the work list, but not yet completed.
I needed a new coat last year, and the year before that, but I postponed shopping for one and by January, all the medium size coats in my price-range had disappeared. Avoiding things has its benefits. I saved money and finally, two weeks ago, I did find and buy a coat. It was a close call though. If D. had not been with me I might have resisted because I didn't want to carry the coat home on the bus.
I have quilts that I need to take to the laundromat since they are too large for my small washer/dryer. But now, there is snow and ice on the ground. I think I'll wait.
There is a flu shot clinic today and I can't avoid that since it is the only one in my area. However, before the day is over, I'm sure I'll find something else to avoid. As I said, I'm good at it.
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