01:35 - 30.01.08
Warmth
Happy Birthday, Oprah!
My smoke detector has been wonky the past week or so. I'm guessing it has to do with the deep arctic cold, although one could also accuse Mr retrograde Mercury of complicity. The unit must be triggered when it detects a radical difference between ambient air and a sudden increase in temperature in it's little hallway. In the past, the steam from the shower in the bathroom would set it off, for example. Lately, though, it has gone off whenever I have turned on my stove or the elements on top. Makes cooking dinner an adventure. I'd leave it caterwauling, except that I can hear the neighbours in the other side of my duplex pacing. Don't want them feeling they need to call the fire department. Too many jokes about cooking and needing their assistance. One of my sons and one of my sisters noted in their recent phone calls that their detectors are going off without real cause the past while too. Hmmmm. Today I finally disconnected it when it wouldn't deactivate even with me waving a towel underneath it as I usually do. I have to admit that I also had candles burning, a cake baking in the oven, the convection heaters fired up in addition to having the one element of the stove top on at maximum temperature. After all the outside temperature is still - 28 or so while the windchill is reading at about -40. Warmer than Monday but still... I opened a few windows to let the smoke from the cake - it overflowed the pan - billow outside but then it became very chilly indeed inside - defeated the whole purpose of having all those heat sources working.
Today I did that research with respect to the two companies that the agent wants to send me to for interviews. That included reading up on the new to me software they use. I found two different outfits that I could wear and feel good about myself lurking in the back of my closet. My body keeps changing in size and configuration so it seems as though I am constantly having to rediscover what fits and what doesn't. Lately the weight has been going down so I guess I shouldn't complain, eh? Just as I was crawling out of the closet - the real one honey, get your mind out of it's own self created gutter - the phone rang again. The one company that had asked me for essays on their questions, when they advised me I had been short listed, calling to say that I had made it through the next round of cuts. Would I still be interested in coming in for an interview. Played telephone tag, but left a message finally giving two days that I would be available to go.
My youngest called right after that with what he felt was urgent business he needed resolved. He has many virtues but patience is one that could use a little work. We've had the discussion about time being the requirement for bodies to move through space. He forgets. For the next couple of hours I would shift back and forth between phone conversations with him and number two son all the while doing housework as well. Number two son had just called to check in and exchange updates, you see. They bought a new to them second hand minivan so as to accommodate all the gear needed for my youngest grand-daughter. She was playing quite happily in the background - a box of oranges her toy of choice. My daughter-in-law had emailed me the evening before and noted that said child was going through the "terrible two's". That dreaded "no", a constant response. Normal behaviour for certain. The trick is not to be lured down to the child's level, so that one is caught in a power struggle. When my guys were little I would just act as though the boy in question had just really hurt my feelings. Usually ended the obstinate behaviour quite quickly. If not, then time out in their bedroom was usually enough to end the show. they are just testing your boundaries and your resolve both. Not to be taken personally.
Now it's time for time out in my bedroom. A little earlier I dreamt about one of the companys that I had researched earlier. A whodunit in progress that was quite fascinating. Hmmmm. What next? Good night dear diary.
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