This should be filed under: "reasons I am not blogging" with a subheading for "Arda my love I am busy..."
Can I finally be nearing maturity? Not MUDding??
That is tantamount to heresy. Arda lovely Arda where the digital winds sooth my furrowed elven brow, how I shall grieve our absences. I leave you Telvorn in my stead, who can outMUD anyone while recoding the world. In all my digital years, I have yet to meet someone I respect more than Telvorn. We share similar air and many common beliefs. It is a stranger's familiarity that only other MUDders understand.
But I digress....
So firstly, the deed comes my way in 4 days. First up is the mighty mighty piano that must not be moved unless by expert movers. Luckily I have one living in my neck of paradise. Once the piano has exited the cozy condo I must look at the floor under it that cracked when it was moved in. 1400 POUNDS tends to do that sort of thing. I am moving my bed and some chairs in first so I can hang out in my new pricey digs without feeling orphanded.
It is going to be obnoxious in the beginning as I know very well my father will get any and everyone to come visit me. (oif)
All righty!
Next up it will be time to move the kitchen and dining room.... I have way too much china and silver for one lifetime. This is due to alot of it coming from other people's lifetimes. Nothing in my possession is unused or unwanted. I will have to purchase a new china cabinet for the items I have stowed in crates. One of the things I love about my new place is that it has a STORAGE ROOM in another building in addition to whatever that 1250 square feet has to offer. Alot of my papers are not yet digitised and must be transcribed. Until then, they live in bins, hopefully awaiting my keystrokes.
The cozy kitchen must then be repainted as it is shabby as hell. Since I am lazy and in a rush, I plan to only paint the surrounds of the cabinets and let the next fellas work their magicks. The dining room has about 65 holes to patch before I can paint due to the clock fetish. The second bedroom has to be painted after similar patching due to young people having their way with the walls. It must be heredity.
So busy .... lots more to do no time to discuss it but prolly will moan about it on here.
I love my new place!!
===== *
“How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world.” Anne Frank
24.8.08
22.8.08
Jugglin'
So many balls in the air, and still only two hands.
Which ball drops this time? Prolly the one marked: "Achieving balance and well-being" --again--
All the plans are in place and now I must only move paint and sell, in that order. This is going to cost me a whole lot of money and likely will be the last move I make this side of the soil. It also is a huge gamble on my part and one that I am undertaking with the attitude that every BIG dime I made got swept away in a sea of parenthood and ill-advised partnerships. This current gamble is built on an initial investment of 10k which has blossumed to 100k, all in equity. To keep my sanity in place, I am regarding it as 10k.
The balance that was absolutely integral to the last few years is going out the window as well. This I am doing as I am no longer paying a huge amount of tuition nor am I having to pay for dance related expenses and injuries. Sounds minor but after 12 physio visits they all ring up at $75 per.
The whole operation hinges on my second job. After a lot of belly button glimpses and much discarded lint, I have jetted the second hospice job. Not that my heart is not there, more that I need a second income that is not generated by health-care. It is a decision made after thinking long and hard. Far less money, but no attachment.
The new second income job starts next week and involves being responsible for the evening shift at an independant living apartment building. It is a very well run establishment that I have always viewed with respect. I also am one of those people who can be polite and pleasant to all and come off as halfway sincere. This is because I genuinely enjoy people and their stories. I enjoy interacting outside the home. My own home is sacred. No, you cannot come visit. No, I am not mad at you, I just do not like sharing my sacred space.
Besides, I have some auring to do. This whole December 21st 2012 thing has me thinking. The glass bowl is calling. And no, I do not care to explain that one.
While watching this Discovery Channel theme afternoon on the end of the world at Dec21st 2012 thing, it was mentioned that Nostradamus firmly believed that his was a gift of prophecy that had come down the family. My sister was looking amused. It is funny that she can be in our family, and not understand this part of it. It is not really a gift, it is a predeliction towards intuitiveness. My brother and I both have it. My mother fought against it. Our Sinclair great grandmother believed she had it and spoke of her own grandmother recognising the gift in her. Of course I do not really believe this but it is an interesting premise.
Are we all nuts? Sure we are. Assorted nuts. We also tend to be right in our assumptions on things far more times than most. I don't really have a bowl to gaze into. I do use cards....
===== *
“The world thinks eccentricity in great things is genius, but in small things, only crazy”
Edward G. Bulwer-Lytton
11.8.08
The Winds of Change are Blowin...
Living in Paradise is a matter of lifestyle enrichment. No matter what your address is in this area, it is good. Great. Fabulous. Outstanding.
So - why are we moving?
The cozy condo which I have customized and made my own is my haven and sanctuary. It is a little estate with 14 units. When I first moved in, I was saddened to learn that the woman in the home behind me had been diagnosed with a rare form of cancer. Alot of prayer and even more surgery left her on permanent long-term disability, but alive. It stuck in my mind as a very cruel and strange twist of fate as she was in her early 40's. Since then, I have watched as person after person on my estate is felled with varying forms of cancer. Even I had a nasty bout of a treatable cancer a couple of years ago. It was debilitating but I recovered well and am clean and cancer free as of this date.
My immediate neighbour had a breast cancer recurrance in the time she lived here. The woman two doors over has been told she has 2 years to live as a stealth cancer ravages her insides. The woman 5 doors to the other side passed away early this year from ovarian cancer. She was 28 years old. After her death I vowed that if one more person announced a cancer I was going to run not walk to a realtor. Last week our little street man who lived in a condo his brother bought him moved into a full care facility as he has, no suprise, cancer.
Yesterday I bought another condo in the resort community where I do most of my work. It was almost 50 thousand more than I was willing to spend and I will be paying a mortgage off well into my late 60s but I DON"T CARE. No one in this newer place has been ailing and the seller was a vibrant 60 year old who had renovated the place for herself using all the same type of wonderful things I use. Now all I must do is to remove all my chandeliers and get packing. I am moving into the new place in 12 days. Then I plan to paint out my condo and leave minimal furnishings and sell the bugger.
Egad.
===== *
“The only objects of practical reason are therefore those of good and evil. For by the former is meant an object necessarily desired according to a principle of reason; by the latter one necessarily shunned, also according to a principle of reason.”
Immanuel Kant
So - why are we moving?
The cozy condo which I have customized and made my own is my haven and sanctuary. It is a little estate with 14 units. When I first moved in, I was saddened to learn that the woman in the home behind me had been diagnosed with a rare form of cancer. Alot of prayer and even more surgery left her on permanent long-term disability, but alive. It stuck in my mind as a very cruel and strange twist of fate as she was in her early 40's. Since then, I have watched as person after person on my estate is felled with varying forms of cancer. Even I had a nasty bout of a treatable cancer a couple of years ago. It was debilitating but I recovered well and am clean and cancer free as of this date.
My immediate neighbour had a breast cancer recurrance in the time she lived here. The woman two doors over has been told she has 2 years to live as a stealth cancer ravages her insides. The woman 5 doors to the other side passed away early this year from ovarian cancer. She was 28 years old. After her death I vowed that if one more person announced a cancer I was going to run not walk to a realtor. Last week our little street man who lived in a condo his brother bought him moved into a full care facility as he has, no suprise, cancer.
Yesterday I bought another condo in the resort community where I do most of my work. It was almost 50 thousand more than I was willing to spend and I will be paying a mortgage off well into my late 60s but I DON"T CARE. No one in this newer place has been ailing and the seller was a vibrant 60 year old who had renovated the place for herself using all the same type of wonderful things I use. Now all I must do is to remove all my chandeliers and get packing. I am moving into the new place in 12 days. Then I plan to paint out my condo and leave minimal furnishings and sell the bugger.
Egad.
===== *
“The only objects of practical reason are therefore those of good and evil. For by the former is meant an object necessarily desired according to a principle of reason; by the latter one necessarily shunned, also according to a principle of reason.”
Immanuel Kant
3.8.08
28.7.08
Gabrielle Cilmi
This is one of my newest favourite artists.
I hope you enjoy this. She reminds me of me (attitude wise). Especially in the official video for this song with the guys tied up and hanging upside down...
(Sorry about the quality - all the good copies of the official video were taken down)
I posted the above link because it shows how good this girl is LIVE and as you all know, I support music LIVE AND LOCAL and you should too!!! Art is life!
If, however, you want to see a cleaned up version, visit her website:
http://www.gabriellacilmi.com/ (go figure)
I hope you enjoy this. She reminds me of me (attitude wise). Especially in the official video for this song with the guys tied up and hanging upside down...
(Sorry about the quality - all the good copies of the official video were taken down)
I posted the above link because it shows how good this girl is LIVE and as you all know, I support music LIVE AND LOCAL and you should too!!! Art is life!
If, however, you want to see a cleaned up version, visit her website:
http://www.gabriellacilmi.com/ (go figure)
26.7.08
A Little Wisdom (from Zeezee)
Some days she speaks in **soundbits - today was such a day.
We were discussing the nature of truth.
ZeeZee: "Truth is like yeast.
--- (big pause) ---
"But who the hell bakes bread these days?"
-@- -@- -@- -@- -@- -@-
** - similar to soundBITES but smaller, and more polite. (ie: Canadian version)
We were discussing the nature of truth.
ZeeZee: "Truth is like yeast.
--- (big pause) ---
"But who the hell bakes bread these days?"
-@- -@- -@- -@- -@- -@-
** - similar to soundBITES but smaller, and more polite. (ie: Canadian version)
24.7.08
Thinking Back to ----
Posting about Joseph Iorio, made me think about all the characters I met while I was in his employ. No television mini-series could do justice to all these amazing people.
A few years ago, I posted about one since departed: Padriac Kennedy. He was a bit quirky but in a benign way. He was too brainy for this world. I hope the next is more rewarding for him. Another person that was worthy of mention was Darren, who loved to wear a deer stalker and cape, and bravely took public transit to work. Elisabeth, the saboteur, who was capable of great kindness and equal intrigue. She was a complicated person who was not so kind in retrospect. Ernie, who helmed the ship was an anchor. Hemet who always wanted to be out front - (he was stuck in the backroom shipping for years) and now is. I am so pleased for that, as if ever a person deserved a sizable promotion, it is Hemet. He was and remains the most loyal of Joe's crew.
The rest of the staff in those turbulant years came and went, mostly went. I worked in dangerous times for Joseph. The stories I could tell.... (but not yet).
Some of the folk that I was friendly with were legitimate small time dealers, but some of them were definitly a little on the iffy side. I was too naive at the time to see it. Not now though. Joe always ran a reputable ship. He abided by every city statue and law, and sometimes got grief from the authorities where none was warranted. He is a straight shooter.
There was Roy, the guy from Chilliwak who couldnt date or appraise anything but had a supersharp instinct for valuables and an amazing ability to get things cheap. There was Bill, the British Coin expert who turned out to be a tad shady. There was Paul who left in a fit of pique because I was there, and who went on to do what he should have all along - run his own outfit. On Saturdays, the little dealers would come in with their week's worth of trade, and alot of them knew that I was a sucker for rhinestones. Now of course the store did not buy rhinestones unless they were housed in a truly show-stopping vintage extravaganza and even then, it was not a surety. I, on the other hand, was happy to go out for a coffee and relieve the boys of the glitz. It was a few years before one of my assistants pointed out to me that these transactions had a sexual undertone. I was once more, alas, too naive to see this. It pains me to say this as I always thought of myself as one of the boys. One of the boys in high heels and glitzies, but still, one of the boys.
Silly silly me.
It is a good thing that the enthusiasm of youth keeps us from being too introspective. That comes later. -heh
A few years ago, I posted about one since departed: Padriac Kennedy. He was a bit quirky but in a benign way. He was too brainy for this world. I hope the next is more rewarding for him. Another person that was worthy of mention was Darren, who loved to wear a deer stalker and cape, and bravely took public transit to work. Elisabeth, the saboteur, who was capable of great kindness and equal intrigue. She was a complicated person who was not so kind in retrospect. Ernie, who helmed the ship was an anchor. Hemet who always wanted to be out front - (he was stuck in the backroom shipping for years) and now is. I am so pleased for that, as if ever a person deserved a sizable promotion, it is Hemet. He was and remains the most loyal of Joe's crew.
The rest of the staff in those turbulant years came and went, mostly went. I worked in dangerous times for Joseph. The stories I could tell.... (but not yet).
Some of the folk that I was friendly with were legitimate small time dealers, but some of them were definitly a little on the iffy side. I was too naive at the time to see it. Not now though. Joe always ran a reputable ship. He abided by every city statue and law, and sometimes got grief from the authorities where none was warranted. He is a straight shooter.
There was Roy, the guy from Chilliwak who couldnt date or appraise anything but had a supersharp instinct for valuables and an amazing ability to get things cheap. There was Bill, the British Coin expert who turned out to be a tad shady. There was Paul who left in a fit of pique because I was there, and who went on to do what he should have all along - run his own outfit. On Saturdays, the little dealers would come in with their week's worth of trade, and alot of them knew that I was a sucker for rhinestones. Now of course the store did not buy rhinestones unless they were housed in a truly show-stopping vintage extravaganza and even then, it was not a surety. I, on the other hand, was happy to go out for a coffee and relieve the boys of the glitz. It was a few years before one of my assistants pointed out to me that these transactions had a sexual undertone. I was once more, alas, too naive to see this. It pains me to say this as I always thought of myself as one of the boys. One of the boys in high heels and glitzies, but still, one of the boys.
Silly silly me.
It is a good thing that the enthusiasm of youth keeps us from being too introspective. That comes later. -heh
In Scale
The 3 items I purchased at the Thrift are picture on a chair cushion.
That should give you some scale to judge by.
So Beautiful - At Home in Paradise
Recovering from my helldays was easy this week as the winds are warm and the tides friendly. Even the Thrift was user-friendly, as miraculously some vintage silver was put out as I wandered past. The gleanings were a small sterling match case with a crest on it and a crystal perfume bottle with a sterling rim, hallmarked Birmingham, 1916. I also snatched up a very Art Noveau trinket box, crystal with a gold-plate top. Grande total = $18.50
-@ go me! @-
Other people have different hobbies. Me, I like to sift through junk for treasures. I honed my skills working for Joseph Iorio, the King of Canadian Coins (stamps and jewellery.) Standing at his counter going through sacks of stuff looking for precious metals to melt down gave me a razor sharp instinct and a fast eye. I absolutely loved my job there and I believe that I learned more from Joe than from any other single individual. Joe is an overcomer. Joe is a man who takes life and bends it to his will. Joe is a man who tranformed himself. Thank you Joe, for everything.
Now, one trait I acquired in Joseph Iorio's employ was thrift. I am very loath to part with large sums of cash. Somehow paying the retail price defeats the purpose of thrifting. Working at Joe's, I saw beautiful one of a kind items melted down for scrap price. It killed me at first, but I got used to it. The true value of a material good is what someone is willing to pay for it. That's all. Every now and then, when Joe was in an exceptionally good mood he would let me go through the huge bucket of scrap sterling and pick out stuff for myself. He thought it was a strange quirk I had, as he has no attachment to things. I got some amazing treasures from those days.
Today, I felt a whiff of my own past as I scooped up my little trinkets. I was very fortunate and I know it. I am delighted.
22.7.08
Somniloquy
During the drugged and prone aspect of my little weekend drama, I not only missed a kite festival in my neighbourhood (and a personal appearance by Nigel on his Motoguzzi) but also a visit by Randy and Laust. The boyos stayed in my home overnight and not only did I not wake up, I did not know they were there until after they left. Thank GOD I caught Randy and Laust on the flip side. Barely, mind you but catch them I did. Now they are off to Vancouver for the Festival of Fire and the view from Randy's balcony.
I am once more alone in my abode so should I somniloquize tonight there shall be no witnesses, other than my doggie and he is the soul of discretion.
So.... She who drugs and sleeps away, lives to to fight another day.
I am not really promoting pharmaceuticals as a remedy for life, but they work and work well for brain-busting a broken brain. You are totally useless, but the body repairs as you zombie away. It has taken me years to admit this. I can now say it and mean it. Broken brains need drugging sometimes. And pain, the great equalizer, can change even the most stubborn mind.
-@-
After being told what I was shouting about last week, I have been very tempted to set up a voice activated tape recorder, but perhaps I am more scared..... than curious.
I am not sure I want to know.
I am once more alone in my abode so should I somniloquize tonight there shall be no witnesses, other than my doggie and he is the soul of discretion.
So.... She who drugs and sleeps away, lives to to fight another day.
I am not really promoting pharmaceuticals as a remedy for life, but they work and work well for brain-busting a broken brain. You are totally useless, but the body repairs as you zombie away. It has taken me years to admit this. I can now say it and mean it. Broken brains need drugging sometimes. And pain, the great equalizer, can change even the most stubborn mind.
-@-
After being told what I was shouting about last week, I have been very tempted to set up a voice activated tape recorder, but perhaps I am more scared..... than curious.
I am not sure I want to know.
17.7.08
The Snoozle Factor
There can be pesky side effects to life with a TBI. This week's blue light special was migraines. BAH -
The first day I suspected I had been in the land of pavor nocturnus,( and perhaps I was there without any recall) when the crush of nerve on brain got my full and complete attention. Dark room and solitude produced a few hours of complicated sleep and visits from concerned roommates and guests. It was the sleep shouting thing again. "Get away from me, get that thing off me, get out get out!" Why is it I never shout happy things? Why are sleep terrors not balanced by sleep blissies?
It was a long haul this time and somewhat discouraging. The migraine lasted almost 3 days, a record for me. The terrors were in accompaniment. Only the words of a Neurologist who told me not to consider surgery until I was screaming in pain all day every day held me together. Once my brain was functional once again I decided to see what other people are posting about the sleep terror aspect of this phenomena.
Thanks to global communication and the Internet, freaked out people are able to connect with others who experience similar things. In my past I have been told and told off by people with the letters PHD after their names - told that I am making it up, told that it is impossible for sleep paralysis to last more than 20 to 30 seconds, - yadda yadda - The great strength of being me is that I never once believed that it was not really happening. I refused to accept that I was the only person in the world with such things going on. In the Internet age, it is obvious that not only does it go on, it is positively rampant.
I had a good laugh at Dion McGregor, who talked even more than I do - and oh dear, what a potty mouth! Listen to him here - (""Brown it, brown it...") His sleep narratives invariably ended with his shrieking in terror. I believe that as long as your night terrors stay in the night, it is bearable. When they interfer with your days, its difficult. When you can no longer fall asleep at all, its dire.
Most of the sleep chatters who also have night terrors just want to understand what it all means. I like the way this fellow approached the problem, by recording himself in the night, and posting it to a website.
If you cannot sleep soundly, it is unlikely your days will be full of sunshine and roses - that you would notice at least.
So another round of horror, and another set ceded to Pavor Nocturnus. --sigh-- I took all my medications three days in a row..... and let us hope they do their work.
The first day I suspected I had been in the land of pavor nocturnus,( and perhaps I was there without any recall) when the crush of nerve on brain got my full and complete attention. Dark room and solitude produced a few hours of complicated sleep and visits from concerned roommates and guests. It was the sleep shouting thing again. "Get away from me, get that thing off me, get out get out!" Why is it I never shout happy things? Why are sleep terrors not balanced by sleep blissies?
It was a long haul this time and somewhat discouraging. The migraine lasted almost 3 days, a record for me. The terrors were in accompaniment. Only the words of a Neurologist who told me not to consider surgery until I was screaming in pain all day every day held me together. Once my brain was functional once again I decided to see what other people are posting about the sleep terror aspect of this phenomena.
Thanks to global communication and the Internet, freaked out people are able to connect with others who experience similar things. In my past I have been told and told off by people with the letters PHD after their names - told that I am making it up, told that it is impossible for sleep paralysis to last more than 20 to 30 seconds, - yadda yadda - The great strength of being me is that I never once believed that it was not really happening. I refused to accept that I was the only person in the world with such things going on. In the Internet age, it is obvious that not only does it go on, it is positively rampant.
I had a good laugh at Dion McGregor, who talked even more than I do - and oh dear, what a potty mouth! Listen to him here - (""Brown it, brown it...") His sleep narratives invariably ended with his shrieking in terror. I believe that as long as your night terrors stay in the night, it is bearable. When they interfer with your days, its difficult. When you can no longer fall asleep at all, its dire.
Most of the sleep chatters who also have night terrors just want to understand what it all means. I like the way this fellow approached the problem, by recording himself in the night, and posting it to a website.
If you cannot sleep soundly, it is unlikely your days will be full of sunshine and roses - that you would notice at least.
So another round of horror, and another set ceded to Pavor Nocturnus. --sigh-- I took all my medications three days in a row..... and let us hope they do their work.
11.7.08
10.7.08
Best Deals - *Thrift-wise*
Some deals are good, some deals are great and some are priceless.
Some of my better deals, (as requested)-
The leather chairs - yummy yummy - I was happy to pay $100 each
The Solid Oak 5 pc. bedroom suite - $450
The Garnet necklace - $3.99
The 5 pc. Sterling teaset - $125
The Apple G3- $9.99
The Diamond Stud Earrings (VS2/G Colour) (.45ct each) $5.00
The 9ct. Gold Bracelet - $3.99
The Sterling Dresser Set- Mirror, Comb and Hairbrush- $25.00
4 Pairs of Doc Martens, green, brown, black and red - $3.99 pair
The Sterling Candlabra - $5.00
2 x Waterford "Alana" Tumblers - 50 cents each
Some of my better deals, (as requested)-
The leather chairs - yummy yummy - I was happy to pay $100 each
The Solid Oak 5 pc. bedroom suite - $450
The Garnet necklace - $3.99
The 5 pc. Sterling teaset - $125
The Apple G3- $9.99
The Diamond Stud Earrings (VS2/G Colour) (.45ct each) $5.00
The 9ct. Gold Bracelet - $3.99
The Sterling Dresser Set- Mirror, Comb and Hairbrush- $25.00
4 Pairs of Doc Martens, green, brown, black and red - $3.99 pair
The Sterling Candlabra - $5.00
2 x Waterford "Alana" Tumblers - 50 cents each
A Perfect Day
This week, my day off happened to be the same day a very interesting meeting took place on. Never one to eschew educational components to the job, I naturally attended. Next day I awakened and knew before my eyes opened that is was not going to be a great day. Remembering what Dr. L. said about such things, I dutifully took my medication and after walking the doggie-boy, went back to bed.
Today, I awakened to happiness and well-being. The temperature is slightly lower and the winds slightly higher resulting in a beautiful day. The whitecaps show even in the shallows and the tide is way way out there. I found an iron-framed daybed in pretty much wonderous condition and put it on hold. After consulting the moneyman, it is being delivered on Tuesday. -swoon-
I saw an original Robert Wood canvas, signed even, for 7.00 but you have to leave something for the dealers. If it is still there tomorrow after work it is coming home with me. Somehow, I suspect not.
Eschew obfuscation, espouse elucidation!
Now I am digesting after a delicious meal, awaiting the family bonding experience. Yes, it is the multi-generational moment happening around "So You Think You Can Dance." I admit to enjoying it on Dad's big screen.
The dog is happy, the kids are all right and I, too am swathed in an aura of contentment. A perfect day pretty much.
Today, I awakened to happiness and well-being. The temperature is slightly lower and the winds slightly higher resulting in a beautiful day. The whitecaps show even in the shallows and the tide is way way out there. I found an iron-framed daybed in pretty much wonderous condition and put it on hold. After consulting the moneyman, it is being delivered on Tuesday. -swoon-
I saw an original Robert Wood canvas, signed even, for 7.00 but you have to leave something for the dealers. If it is still there tomorrow after work it is coming home with me. Somehow, I suspect not.
Eschew obfuscation, espouse elucidation!
Now I am digesting after a delicious meal, awaiting the family bonding experience. Yes, it is the multi-generational moment happening around "So You Think You Can Dance." I admit to enjoying it on Dad's big screen.
The dog is happy, the kids are all right and I, too am swathed in an aura of contentment. A perfect day pretty much.
1.7.08
An Otherwise Pleasant Day
Stepping out into the morning, so warm it was like a hug, I viewed the promise of Canada Day of an exceptionally fine quality. Looking to my client list, I realised the person in the 7am slot was unknown to me, nor did I have a telephone number for them. I decided to go to a lady who I knew would be up and willing to receive an early visit and bump the gent to the 7:30 slot. The two people lived rather close so it was actually 7:15 when I entered. As it turned out, he had been expecting 7 but a quarter of an hour later was acceptable. And so ended the predictable portion of my work day as Murphy got into my car and travelled alongside me, spreading chaos.
Protocal demands that if no reply is given at the door, I must continue to try to gain entry for 15 minutes and call the person on the telephone before notifying the on-call supervisor whose duty it is to make the decision whether to overlook the absence or call the contact numbers. As we know our clients rather well, this person's judgement is right on the money 99 times out of 100. No answer at the door in this case put me 45 minutes ahead of schedule as I had completed my first two assignments 30 minutes early, due to competancy AND no need for use of the build-in travel time. What to do what to do? I was not able to go early to the next place as it was a 2 person assignment. I cruised past my ten am client and saw the front door open and a family member outside. It was 8:10 - but I opted to stop and check in to see if I could buzz through early. I could.
Once in, it was obvious that the heat had taken it's toil on the older lady. Her husband, was busy telling me nothing at all was wrong, but in fact, she was difficult to rouse and once her eyes opened she complained of a bad stomach. I went back to the gentleman who shook his head and told me that she was fine. Nothing at all wrong. She had been up earlier and they had enjoyed their tea and porridge and now she was just resting. I had a bad feeling.
One advantage of attending to a person with poor short term memory is that you can leave the room for a moment and come back in with a similar approach that might succeed. Like the filme Groundhog Day, I tried it over and over until I found the formula that worked. I got her up and dressed and walked her out to her living room where she sat down. Suddenly her eyes rolled back into her head and she lay down on the couch unresponsive. It was very warm and she did not look well hydrated. It is always a worry in the elderly at this time of year, that they will not increase their fluid intakes to compensate for the heat. But when you are in your 90s, it could be almost anything. Age brings friends that most of us would rather not invite to our parties.
By the time the ambulance arrived, the other half of this sweet couple was in distress as well. The first responders were excellent and had him stabilised quickly. His wife on the other hand was taken away to be rehydrated, and checked over. And I was now very late for my assignment. It was just a few moments more until someone arrived to stay with the gent, and by the time I arrived to my next place, I was delighted to see one of the better co-workers already engaged in the tasks at hand. Not that I dont like everyone else but indeed we are not all created equally and in some environs, certain personalities fade, fail and crumple. In this place where we work, all the tools are there, all supplies well stocked, but the client is not going gently into that dark night. The client has a whip of a tongue and even in a diminished state is quite capable of reducing suseptible folk to jellies. My co-worker was rather aware of his dislike for her but seemingly impervious. It did not affect her care and we completed our tasks easily.
The remainder of my day had glitches and some downright errors. One of my clients had already received service by someone who misread the schedule. Another was out on the links and I was running behind the cart to get his attention. All in all it was fairly typical of a holiday work day in our world. Pleasant but chaotic.
Protocal demands that if no reply is given at the door, I must continue to try to gain entry for 15 minutes and call the person on the telephone before notifying the on-call supervisor whose duty it is to make the decision whether to overlook the absence or call the contact numbers. As we know our clients rather well, this person's judgement is right on the money 99 times out of 100. No answer at the door in this case put me 45 minutes ahead of schedule as I had completed my first two assignments 30 minutes early, due to competancy AND no need for use of the build-in travel time. What to do what to do? I was not able to go early to the next place as it was a 2 person assignment. I cruised past my ten am client and saw the front door open and a family member outside. It was 8:10 - but I opted to stop and check in to see if I could buzz through early. I could.
Once in, it was obvious that the heat had taken it's toil on the older lady. Her husband, was busy telling me nothing at all was wrong, but in fact, she was difficult to rouse and once her eyes opened she complained of a bad stomach. I went back to the gentleman who shook his head and told me that she was fine. Nothing at all wrong. She had been up earlier and they had enjoyed their tea and porridge and now she was just resting. I had a bad feeling.
One advantage of attending to a person with poor short term memory is that you can leave the room for a moment and come back in with a similar approach that might succeed. Like the filme Groundhog Day, I tried it over and over until I found the formula that worked. I got her up and dressed and walked her out to her living room where she sat down. Suddenly her eyes rolled back into her head and she lay down on the couch unresponsive. It was very warm and she did not look well hydrated. It is always a worry in the elderly at this time of year, that they will not increase their fluid intakes to compensate for the heat. But when you are in your 90s, it could be almost anything. Age brings friends that most of us would rather not invite to our parties.
By the time the ambulance arrived, the other half of this sweet couple was in distress as well. The first responders were excellent and had him stabilised quickly. His wife on the other hand was taken away to be rehydrated, and checked over. And I was now very late for my assignment. It was just a few moments more until someone arrived to stay with the gent, and by the time I arrived to my next place, I was delighted to see one of the better co-workers already engaged in the tasks at hand. Not that I dont like everyone else but indeed we are not all created equally and in some environs, certain personalities fade, fail and crumple. In this place where we work, all the tools are there, all supplies well stocked, but the client is not going gently into that dark night. The client has a whip of a tongue and even in a diminished state is quite capable of reducing suseptible folk to jellies. My co-worker was rather aware of his dislike for her but seemingly impervious. It did not affect her care and we completed our tasks easily.
The remainder of my day had glitches and some downright errors. One of my clients had already received service by someone who misread the schedule. Another was out on the links and I was running behind the cart to get his attention. All in all it was fairly typical of a holiday work day in our world. Pleasant but chaotic.
29.6.08
Those Lazy Hazy Crazy Days ...
Oh yes, we know summer is here now that the mercury has risen and the tourists have at last had some beachtime in the sun. As I sit sipping my coffee of the day, I cannot resist pulling out the camera so you see what I see, even for just a few moments. Can anyone at all be cranky on such a day as this? Today I am meeting four new people. It should be interesting. If things go sideways I can always remind them of this. This IS paradise and we live here. I love it!
Last Man Standing
How we think, how we feel, and what we say - these things are so different in thought and execution. Being clever is not a thing I value in others for it's own sake as cleverness abounds in our family of wolverines. Being kind, being present, being willing, these are the things I value alongside morality and ethics of a kind to impact our planet in a positive or even benign way and the resolve to do no harm to fellow beings.
Frequently people mistake manners and pleasantries for friendship. That can be one deadly error and result in friendships that do not work out. All around me I see people mired in social disorder - chaos from alcoholism and dysfunction- and this is what seems normal to them. It works for them but not for me.
Shakespeare said: "Give grief words lest the ravelled heart bind up and bid it break." Years of not giving grief words resulted in my heart breaking into a million tiny pieces. No more..
You can get past your past but emotional memory has a life of it's own. The thing named has less power.
Frequently people mistake manners and pleasantries for friendship. That can be one deadly error and result in friendships that do not work out. All around me I see people mired in social disorder - chaos from alcoholism and dysfunction- and this is what seems normal to them. It works for them but not for me.
Shakespeare said: "Give grief words lest the ravelled heart bind up and bid it break." Years of not giving grief words resulted in my heart breaking into a million tiny pieces. No more..
You can get past your past but emotional memory has a life of it's own. The thing named has less power.
22.6.08
Chrome Sweethearts
Not even 8am and the streets are buzzing with excitement in a town known for sleeping through Sundays. I have a client on the main road so I have to park outside of the barricades and hike it in. I pass cars and more cars, queuing for their designated spots in the annual car show. There are thousands of vehicles in this years show. I am extrememly glad my schedule continues in other areas as I hike back out again.
Later - the streets are awash with people gawking at the cars. Grannys and Hells Angels and everything inbetween and all to the backdrop of 40s-50s-60s music blaring from the speakers at every corner. The high price of gas has not dissuaded anyone from attending or participating.
What strikes me is this: As a teenager attending Car shows, the guys and their wives and ladies, were just one generation older than me. Sure, some of my friends had the car bug but by and large, most of the car guys were older. Now I am older too and guess what The Car buffs are STILL one generation up. Silver haired foxes and pot bellied retirees form the majority in this huge seaside event.
I am just a teeney bit jealous.
Later - the streets are awash with people gawking at the cars. Grannys and Hells Angels and everything inbetween and all to the backdrop of 40s-50s-60s music blaring from the speakers at every corner. The high price of gas has not dissuaded anyone from attending or participating.
What strikes me is this: As a teenager attending Car shows, the guys and their wives and ladies, were just one generation older than me. Sure, some of my friends had the car bug but by and large, most of the car guys were older. Now I am older too and guess what The Car buffs are STILL one generation up. Silver haired foxes and pot bellied retirees form the majority in this huge seaside event.
I am just a teeney bit jealous.
20.6.08
Shiny Chrome
Boys and their toys- some things do not change no matter how old you get.
As a teenager in school, I was always mystified by the amount of time some of my friends spent on cars. They chromed everything, polished everything and then raced at Mission Raceway. Or the brand new Knight street bridge. Or along SE Marine drive between the Fraser Arms and Fullerès restaurant. Not me though, oh no not me.
I was a mere passenger. My first boyfriend was Ricki Cohen. He had a beautiful 1962 Cadillac. It was a boat. I loved cruising around in it. We went to the Stanley Park Be-In together and I was never so happy to get in a big comfie car afterwards.
Mike S put a Hemi engine in a Chevy II. --------------------- + woooooosh!
Greg N had a Black Cuda. Mimi drove her Moms Pontiac station wagon with a 456 in it. Mrs. G used to lend ¨Pat Bridges that car and he would rat race everywhere.
I got my dads old 1969 Buick Skylark and MAN it went like stink.
After I tired of paying too much for gas, I moved on to Sports cars.
Mmmm sports cars!
My favourite was my Datsun Fairladys.
I had two of them. One grey ghost of a car, a sleeper with the 2000 motor and one candy red with the 1600. Driving those cars was fabulous. The sports car I kept longest was my 1969 MGB with spoke wheels. It was white with a black leather interior and the seats were pinstriped with a white band along the top edges. I used to drive to Vancouver pretty much every weekend and the taillights would be stolen EVERY SINGLE TIME. The 1969 and prior cars had a beautiful red taillight. 
The newer ones were orange and red. Eventually I swapped over to the orange kind before undertaking my Vancouver outings. I could be seen once a month with a wire brush polishing my chrome wheels. After I sold that car, I never again felt an attachment to an automobile. Sure I drive a sporty looking car red in colour - but its just a car.
Guys on the other hand, the kind with the car itch, tend to stay in love with their chrome sweethearts.
As a teenager in school, I was always mystified by the amount of time some of my friends spent on cars. They chromed everything, polished everything and then raced at Mission Raceway. Or the brand new Knight street bridge. Or along SE Marine drive between the Fraser Arms and Fullerès restaurant. Not me though, oh no not me.
I was a mere passenger. My first boyfriend was Ricki Cohen. He had a beautiful 1962 Cadillac. It was a boat. I loved cruising around in it. We went to the Stanley Park Be-In together and I was never so happy to get in a big comfie car afterwards.
Mike S put a Hemi engine in a Chevy II. --------------------- + woooooosh!
Greg N had a Black Cuda. Mimi drove her Moms Pontiac station wagon with a 456 in it. Mrs. G used to lend ¨Pat Bridges that car and he would rat race everywhere.
I got my dads old 1969 Buick Skylark and MAN it went like stink.
After I tired of paying too much for gas, I moved on to Sports cars.
Mmmm sports cars!
My favourite was my Datsun Fairladys.
I had two of them. One grey ghost of a car, a sleeper with the 2000 motor and one candy red with the 1600. Driving those cars was fabulous. The sports car I kept longest was my 1969 MGB with spoke wheels. It was white with a black leather interior and the seats were pinstriped with a white band along the top edges. I used to drive to Vancouver pretty much every weekend and the taillights would be stolen EVERY SINGLE TIME. The 1969 and prior cars had a beautiful red taillight. 
The newer ones were orange and red. Eventually I swapped over to the orange kind before undertaking my Vancouver outings. I could be seen once a month with a wire brush polishing my chrome wheels. After I sold that car, I never again felt an attachment to an automobile. Sure I drive a sporty looking car red in colour - but its just a car.Guys on the other hand, the kind with the car itch, tend to stay in love with their chrome sweethearts.
18.6.08
Passing Grade
The annual flurry of questions preceded my yearly exam for how pharmaceuticals are keeping my night horrors at bay. I did in fact mention that I have thrown up a few times in my sleep, but underplayed this as a symptom of some hidden anxiety.
Unfortunatly, my subconscious has clear memories that I would rather not retain. They come out in my sleep and I frequently disturb the neighbors by yelling in my sleep. In the past, the disorientation has lasted into the daytime and I have lost work time. It is very difficult to shake off this sort of thing no matter how cheery and optimistic a person naturally is. My intellect knows one thing - my emotional memory knows something quite else. To my sorrow, witnesses to my yells tell me that I cry for my Mommy or plead for help in a juvenile manner *or* I shout NO! STOP! in a strong adult voice.
I take a tiny dose of Seraquel prior to bedtime these days which keeps my daytime clear. It does not entirely banish the night horrors. I still shout but I do not wake up and I do not remember in the morning. Last night something happened that has not happened in years. I wet my bed. I also threw up in my sleep.
Wouldn't it be nice if a drug came on the market that would remove memories. There is always the shock therapy method, I suppose, but I have no desire at all for that.
I passed my test and for one more year I shall be medicated.
What I would give to have less challenges.
The upside is I am more compassionate than most.
But grrrr - I want to sleep soundly.
Unfortunatly, my subconscious has clear memories that I would rather not retain. They come out in my sleep and I frequently disturb the neighbors by yelling in my sleep. In the past, the disorientation has lasted into the daytime and I have lost work time. It is very difficult to shake off this sort of thing no matter how cheery and optimistic a person naturally is. My intellect knows one thing - my emotional memory knows something quite else. To my sorrow, witnesses to my yells tell me that I cry for my Mommy or plead for help in a juvenile manner *or* I shout NO! STOP! in a strong adult voice.
I take a tiny dose of Seraquel prior to bedtime these days which keeps my daytime clear. It does not entirely banish the night horrors. I still shout but I do not wake up and I do not remember in the morning. Last night something happened that has not happened in years. I wet my bed. I also threw up in my sleep.
Wouldn't it be nice if a drug came on the market that would remove memories. There is always the shock therapy method, I suppose, but I have no desire at all for that.
I passed my test and for one more year I shall be medicated.
What I would give to have less challenges.
The upside is I am more compassionate than most.
But grrrr - I want to sleep soundly.
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