Thrifty Scores

I had resolved NOT to buy anything at all this week from the Thrift. Olde habits die hard and I found my car pulling into their parking lot and my rogue feet walking through their front door.
The rest of me obliged.

Nothing of huge note except for some candles for 50 cents. The three wick variety. And a little alabster angel for 3.99 and hmm a pair of celestial candle holders for 30 cents.

And silk lounging dress and cape vintage 1960s and hmm oh yes, a set of miniature plates for 99 cents. Oh and a tiny piano box for 30 cents and a little sterling blush brush for 50 cents and a silver frame for 50 cents.

See how easily I am led astray?
Shiny things. It is always about the shinies.


The Big *Uh-OH!*

Family obligations being what they are, I try to be happy when in the presence of my father.
I try to be upbeat and companionable while maintaining boundaries but sometimes I fail.
Mostly not though. Mostly we enjoy the company of each other and I leave when I feel like it.

Today we started off early and went for breakfast around 8am. We saw a few people we know, and Dad even magnanimously invited an older lady to sit with us. This is really big for him as in the past he has always been worried she may take things the wrong way if he even looks at her.
She is around his age and they go to the same church.

We three are partners in solidarity re: divorce. This woman had a horrible thing happen to her after experiencing a stroke. She had been married (again) for around 5 years and things were going well. Her husband had been ill with some health issues and she had been taking care of him when she had a stroke. They were both in the same hospital when his children showed up and took him away to another Province. Permanently. Farewell marriage. She came home to her own house and licked her wounds. We all thought she had recovered admirably.

The conversation at our table centred around Driver's Licenses. She had to take her road test and failed. She took driver's lessons until she could pass the test and then she went out and bought herself a new car. Hurrah! Then... it happened.

She looked at us conspiratorially and said in a hushed voice:
"I had the Pastor over to my house and he told me he did not believe it."

Now I admit those years of punk and roll did some permanent damage and I do miss a few things but I was fairly certain we had not been talking about anything involving the church.
Still.... I asked her what he was referring to.

"Oh the telephone and internet lines. I called the Church and said it was an emergency and no one came. No one at all! The young Pastor came the next day and told me he did not believe it."

Dad looked at me out of the side of his eyes. I pretended to do the crossword nonchalantly.
"What is wrong with the telephone lines?" I asked quietly.

She leaned across the table and it all spilled out in a rush of words. She was rather worked up about it too.

"Someone came in and laid a new line across the floor and then hid it behind the carpet. I found it when I moved the rug. I never ordered a new line. And there are people living under my house. I have not figured out how they get there. I came home and the whole house smelled like marijuana. I figure it's them about the telephone too. They can hear everything I say."

I know this line of conversing. Remember the woman who believed we had found a home identical to her own and moved her in there? She was convinced that someone was responsible for this outrage! Yes, I know this road and where it leads to.

I looked our breakfast guest in the eye and asked:
"Do you really believe that someone would do that? Do you really think someone comes and goes in your home without your knowlege and moves things?"

She looked at me triumphantly.

"Yes, I absolutely do." She said it with authority.
" I know it sounds crazy but I am certain 100% that someone is fooling around with me. I just don't know why. Or how they get in without me seeing them."

Uh oh.


New Piercing?

Helping out a co-worker today and she moved in real close and looked me over.
"Cool! You got a new pierce!"
It was a statement not a question.

I had to think for a moment.
Ah yes I put a nose-stud in.

"Where did you get it done?"

I got it in Little India in 1987. In Vancouver. A little East Indian jewellers made me stand against a wall as he slowly screwed a curly jewel into my right nostril. It was an 18ct yellow gold curly nosering with a diamond at the centre. I wore it for 6 months before changing it for a more simple ring. I used to wear a *Japanese* nosestud for years.... plastic and invisible, which works well in a society where conformity of dress is mandatory for student of expensive education.

For some reason my nostril isn't liking this new tube thingeee I have in now.
Perhaps I just need to shower more.


*-= This is a call . . .

In the Office we were updating the list of clients who have passed on.
One of the Nurse Leaders looked at my interest and said:
"Do you notice anything significant about this list?"

Sure enough, the recent deaths are all spouses and longtime caregivers of Clients bwho loved them to death and gave their all.
This is a call.


*oink oink* said the piggee

Since being de-wired, I have enjoyed more than a more delicious meals. More than a few tasty snacks. More middle of the night spaghettis and lasagnas and nuts, chocolates and chewy pastas.
Chocolate bars, chocolate syrup on ice-cream, chocolate covered nuts, chocolate chocolates.

It is possible of course this may be connected to my new rounder face and my ever tighter fitting pants.



A holiday

Queen Victoria's birthday is still celebrated here in Canada. On the Island here where the capital city bears her name, things can get a little crazy around the 24th. This weekend has the distinction of being one of the most dangerous times to drive the highways of this Province. Everyone is going somewhere in a hurry.

I work the holidays since I cannot afford to have a day off without pay. Hourly wage slaves have that pesky thing where we have to WORK for our money. Unlike the Premier of this Province who thinks a 29% increase in salary is acceptable for himself and his elected henchmen, we had to settle for the crumbs they threw us. And that only after having our legally drafted contract ripped up and our wages peeled back. You see that way when our contract was re-done by the current Government, it looked like we were getting a bonus when in fact it was just our own money given back -- at a decrease. Public service employees do not get the same sweetheart deals that Publicly Elected Representatives do.

I worked my usual area with one add-on. The add-on was a rural client. Way out there of course. The Office somehow gave me the wrong address, so I was driving up and down this road looking for a non-existent place. It is not advisable in some areas to lurk around, this being one of them. A very large muscular man on a drive-on mower was watching my every move. I had the distinct impression it would not be wise to pull into his driveway unannounced.

I finally consulted my phone book and got the correct address. When I got to the client's home, they were not expecting anyone as they had been told they would be informed if they got holiday service by the preceding Thursday. This was Monday after the Thursday in question.

The first thing that struck me was the colour of the client. He was blue. I inquired to the spouse, and she told me that earlier in the morning someone came but refused to assist him use his nebulizer. (!!) I asked her if he had other medications or patches, and she suddenly said:
"Oh PATCH! I didn't get my patch this morning." Her nitro patch. For her heart. She had a heart attack 3 weeks ago.

Now I do not know why the morning person took such a stance, but I do know that blue people are in trouble. Jeez Louise. The high road can have carcasses alongside it too.

I told the spouse that should that happen again, she should ask the person to lift the machine to in front of herself or the spouse and THEY can switch it on. And the wife can put the mask over the gentleman's head. He cannot do it himself, and the doseage has been pre-poured by another family member who works. All that must be done is to turn it on and assist to put the mask on. I suppose it made more sense to this woman to leave it undone in the care of a spouse with severe memory loss and heart trouble.

You can't train stupid.


Capt. Cal and his Gallery

Capt. Cal is a retired ferry Captain of my acquaintance. We met at a local breakfast establishment that we both frequent. I go on my days off and he goes on his. Being retired, his days off come more frequently than mine. We used to nod and smile as we passed. Eventually he came over and sat down, always being careful not to be too intrusive. Very interesting and mannerly, Capt. Cal is one of my favourite characters around this town.

Capt. Cal had surgery a few years back for obstructed arteries. In human anatomy, the common carotid artery is an artery that supplies the head and neck with oxygenated blood; it divides in the neck to form the external and internal carotid arteries. Capt. Cal's was 95% blocked on one side and 100% blocked on the other. He did not think he would survive the surgery, or so I assume as he sent me a carving to remember him by. He was somewhat embarressed when he did in fact come out of surgery and back to the diner. I thanked him profusely for the stone carving. It was of a black bird with his head cocked. He stares out at me from my table.

In his retirement, Capt. Cal has taken up the art of stone and wood carving. He does primitive style work, full of personality. Today I went over to his place to see his gallery. Capt. Cal lives in a local trailer park by the river in a little (!!) pull trailer not even 10 by 7. He sleeps there and listens to the radio. He uses a community shower. He has the corner lot in this park, under a great cedar tree. Beside his trailer he has a tarp where his chairs sit. A picnic table serves as bird feeder and display case. Beside the table stand various carvings. Goddesses and imps, birds and bears, and a guardian with his arms raised over his head. I quite took to the guaradian and gave him a hug after bumping into him a few too many times. Capt. Cal has two chairs there where he sits smoking his pipe and carving. There is a faint smell of urine, mixed with the other woodsier smells. As I gazed at the figures he had carved I had the notion they were gazing right back at me, assessing me.

I came home with a stone carving. Two in fact. One that I bought is a tablet style with a man standing at a gate with a shepherds' crook in his hand. Along one side is carved *give* and the other side *take*. Capt. Cal told me he was inspired by the Book of Revelation. Although decidedly not a religious man, Capt. Cal listened to a tape version of the New Testament he found lurking in his car. 20 tapes. In a leather case. I know this because he sold them to my father who has more Bibles than any ten priests. My father is planning to gift them to my Aunt who is just as religious as my Father and completely blind now. She will enjoy listening to the King James version as read by Charlton Heston, I have no doubts.

My carving came with a little extra of a goddess I admired under the picnic table. The raccoons had their way with her and she was broken in 3 pieces. She will join my other goddesses in my bedroom.

This amazing man intrigues me. 81 years old and living like a nomad. He does this so he can pay for his longtime companion who is 91 to be in an extended care home on the Mainland. He visits her every week. They never married but have been together for 45+ years. Now that is devotion. I hope to buy a few more pieces from Capt. Cal as I can afford them.

The gallery can move to my place.



My delirius enjoyment of unfettered jaw and teeth lasted all of 4 hours.

The hour and 20 appointment of the morning was to cut off the wires and brackets. It did hurt a bit on the left side due to pressure. The removal was a lot faster and more pain free once the Doctor came in and used the power tools to cut through things.

Once free of all hardware my teeth were polished and then impressions of both uppers and lowers were taken. I had four hours to kill until my return for the new appliance.

During those 4 hours, I never thought to eat something chewy, I just cruised around town doing my regular schtickt. Back in the chair 4 hours later, I was horrified to learn that in that small time, my teeth had shifted slightly. This, then, would be why I must wear the clear plastic appliances 24/7 for eight weeks, taking them off only to eat or drink. They did get the appliance to fit after much pressing and pulling. (read: more pain)

Eight weeks from now, I go for a followup and hopefully can proceed to wearing the appliances only at nighttime. YEAH!

Last night I had a little parasomnia episode. How do I know?
There were 4 chocolate pudding cups in my bed *AND* the ice cream container.
Do I remember? hmmm only slightly. I recall being hot. My mouth was hot.

Today, I took my appliance out and ate a 12 oz steak for lunch. OH YEAH!
For dessert I had ANOTHER steak- 8 ozs.
Oh yeah, I so did!

Brushed and put the appliance back in.
This is working well.

YUMMY STEAK. Been a long time.


ooo cool

now really how cool is THIS

I love my MUD

Loyal and trueblue since 1995

Work related Blog

Floating about the job site smiling at all I see- - -
and I was!

Being mother's Day this past weekend, many families were in evidence around various homes of my acquaintance. I went to my delightful Z-z to find leftover families doing everything I was there 90 mins for, but hell- that doesnt stop me. We just yapped about and did small tasks together, whilst Madame Z sat munching her toasts and refusing her meds as she felt we would leave once the meds were taken. " Ä telling statement,"said her son.

We were having a great time until I asked the younger woman about her husband in the next room. "Hey now! That's my brother not my husband." she entreated.

I knew that. Damnit. I did so know that.
"That was a sick sick thing I just tried to do to you. Strange and unnatural and oops even."

The son is a retired IBM guy very straight.
He came in and shook my hand.
"It was great meeting you! I am so glad my mom has you twice a week. Now I have the face for the stories and yes, that was a sick sick thing you tried to do but I forgive you."

Believe me, it is my pleasure and privilege.
All mine.

love being me


This is my seasonal obligatory lauding of the best rock and roll band ever.


I wuv ya still.


(cue pursuit of happiness song)
] Moe knows! [

Trying to remember a few things from the 80s is for me a Herculean task.
My memories are faulty from that pesky brain injury trouble. Not just faulty --- positively unreliable. I think I know what I was up to but I am not completely sure.

Did I play with any Vancouver bands? I probably did.
But did I really? hmm. Did I? I know I was there. I know I was on alot of stages.
But music??
I ranted with a few.... hmm hmm
It was more about "Theatre" for me at that time.
But DAMNITALL I can't remember.

hmm hmm
  • Mistress of Ceremonies - yes,
  • Board Member - yes,
  • scenester - yes,
  • dilettante- yes,
  • drunken moron - yes,
  • party-harder - yes yes and yes!

Actually it is my fervent prayer not to be remembered as I have some pictures I have censored mightily over the years for compassionate reasons... family you know....

Thank the Lord there were no digital cameras back then or who knows what blackmail would be going on. Truthfully: although drunken and awful I was never a whore (that I remember) although it amused me no end to have a bad reptutation. After all, my perogative was the whole fuck you thing. Putting on my suit and going to my super straight job with blue and purple hair felt incredibly empowering at the time. But do I remember what exactly I was up to? Other than the shows in Theatre? And TheatreSports?
No I do not.

This is probably a good thing.
L7 never became L8. heheh
I was slapped a few times and had a few dust-ups with other gaudier females who thought I was a shit. I woke up in a few busses in other cities with people I support- - -
Maybe I am a *never was* ...
except: I am deliriously happy with who I am now. Olde and cool.
Possibly olde and deluded but who cares.

Inserting my favourite quote about biographies courtesy Yul Brynner (notorious liar, exaggerator, bon vivant and actor):
"The facts of my life have nothing to do with the realities of my existence."

Yeah, too too true.
Singing with bands? Likely.
Playing wth bands?
- - not sure anymore.


Look Ma, no bands.

Woo and hooo.

Oh Happy day!


Perry Farrell

CBC radio had Perry Ferrell (of Lollapollooza, Jane's Addiction, Porno for Pyros and other things) being interviewed about his new project. I only heard part of it as I had a client waiting for me.

Sounded pretty cool to me. Very diverse and electic.
I want more information, so this will be my reminder.

test link here

It feels like the very last time...

Tonight I sit in my darkened room, playlist of ambient sounds featuring PortisHead and suchlike bands,.... Cocteau Twins, Aphex Twin, Massive Attack, Placebo....

This might be my last night in bands of bondage, as they are scheduled to come off TOMORROW!!! -- huzzah! --

This might not happen but please God let it be so. I hate the bands more than anything so far.
They hurt. Alot. Tomorrow morning at 10:10 think of me laying in the chair with my mouth forced open with those horrid jaw-spreaders being de-banded.

The Oral Surgeon lost money on me. Alot. They were motivated by pride of practise. My treatment is concluding 19 months off schedule. 19 months of steady visits to their offices and being rewired, rebracketed and retightened. Not one visit went as planned. Each and every time I had some hardware failures to be corrected. Some of the technicians wince when they see my name. Hey me too guys. It freakin hurts.

I will rejoin the world of adults. At my age!
Without bands!! YAY!

So tonight is the night for the bands to do their business one last time.


At the Movies . . .

Well now. . . in the INBOX . . .
a little note from abuse.com regarding my uploading practises.
--=-- EGAD! -=---

and the artist in question?

oh for heavens sake--- pick someone current!

Saw a film "TIDELAND""


Gilliam is a truly amazing filmmaker.
I watched every second of this. Did I like it? hmmm not sure.
But it was a trip.


COOLEST thing I read today (Thanks Neil Gaiman)

This is so totally something I would have liked to have done meself.

Oh yeah.

click here --------------> *


What Ho, Blogspot?

What ho?

Jiggers, it is a strange thing to have to explain everyday expressions in use by ones'self to others who read you, not hear you.

Oh I say!

Call me Bertie!


--- Almost there.... almost... almost...

The fourth of May today.

Eleven days to go until I am free of the bands that bind me. Or so it is scheduled to be.
Not wrought in stone, but scheduled, none the less.

Oh, I cannot wait. It looms close enough to taste.
Please please let it be so.


A Perfect Day

How wonderful to fall asleep with the words of love in my ear.
To awaken, to see the face of a beloved person. To smile and begin the day happy.

Chocolate was had by me.
And a vanilla slice. And many many many sticky gooey thoughts.


Kindness takes on a new form

Got a surprise today when I came home. Some potted flowers were on my porch with a card attached. I was curious....

The note said:

"Dear Friend, it has been placed on our hearts to acknowlege your struggle with cancer."

--- and so on

I ..... am not sure I want it acknowleged by people whom I do not choose to confide in.
It was meant kindly. I honour the intention.


--- one more

Shiny things Shiny things....

Guess what I got for myself?
A red shiny thing.

Oh and I put my nose stud back in so I can buy/make/find a shiny thing that doesnt have chains dangling from it. All my nose studs are from India and involve bells and chains and suchlike things.
So very job-appropriate too!


Passport to Pleasure?

Travelling and I do not get along well together. Like, at all.
One of my bfs broke it off with me after a disastrous Mexico City rendez-vous en route to Belize.
I got lost in the airport. Luckily we were not in Thailand which was his first choice.

It is not that I hate flying. I do hate flying but I am not afraid of it not really.
If you crash well, its quick. Burn, baby burn.
It is the being in a strange place, a strange bed, a grid unknown that upsets me. I get losts easily. I say right and go left. I look up and fall down. I trip over curbs. I end up in inner city ghettoes whilst looking for the Ritz. All of the above. South Central LA was one of my more notable screw-ups. I was looking for Hollywood. No kidding.

I can get an expedited passport if a fee of $75+ is paid.
If I get the passport than I can go on holidays AWAY FROM HERE!

Someone else can hold the torch for a bit.
It is so tempting.

But there is that nasty dyslexic thing.

Scary monsters in my head
Scary monsters in my bed

--- ! !