19:21 - 05/19/2010
Easter lilies
One of my rules for myself when posting to you, dear diary is that I don't write when I'm feeling depressed. Not clinical depression - just the sadness and frustration that comes with being seriously underemployed and struggling to find ways to pay at least two of the three categories of expenses I feel are critical - mortgage, utility bills and food. Needless to say, it is one of the most effective weight loss programs I've encountered. Even so I still feel as though I'm losing more ground each month. That monster is always lurking at the back of my mind I'm afraid. Sigh. I see no point making my writing a downer for you too, hence the lack of entries the past months.

On the upside, I have spent a lot of time with the quality assurance assignments. I've traveled all over the city on transit, which is always instructive, if not entertaining. I did send in a commendation for one bus driver after witnessing his handling a jam packed vehile of adolescents on a Friday afternoon. He should be teaching parenting and crowd control, as well as getting a medal. Some of those young ladies were trying to figure out what I had on my legs. I was wearing very snug sheer nylons. They weren't certain whether I was one skin tone or another, as I still have that flourescent pale white skin of a long, sunless winter. I think they were speculating over whether I had been to a tanning place or used one of those skin dyes. One young lady seemed to believe there were nylons, but the others wouldn't accept that explanation. As Einstein once observed - paraphrased of course - the simplest explanation is usually the correct one.

Not so pleasant was the one day when a woman decided I shouldn't be able to share her air space. I had been on the train for a few stops when she and her friend boarded. I was bent forward in my seat working on a crossword puzzle supplied in the local free newspaper. What I do to pass the time, you see. When she sat down in the seat immediately behind me I felt my hair being pulled quite vigourously, so I leaned further forward. Happened again and again every half minute or so, until I turned and looked directly at her as I pulled my tresses forward and around over my shoulder. Shortly after I felt her elbow hit the back of my head. Turned around to see why. Turned back and felt a stronger swat with the offending body part. And then a third. Realized that it likely wasn't an accident and that she wanted to provoke a reaction. Parenting lesson number nine - takes two to fight. Moved so my back was against the window and I was in line of sight with a couple of passengers facing her. They had noticed the attempts to assault and were watching her openly. One caught her eye and just stared. The two moves together seemed to convince her that her game wasn't funny any more. Last time something like that happened it was a young girl with a big red purse who seemed to think that it would create some shared comedy for the boy she was desperately trying to attract by hitting me in the head with it "accidentally". The problem was I kept moving away in a similar fashion, so that it became apparent that she was swinging that item with intent. The young man didn't seem to think it was funny turning his attention to another girl, so she finally gave up her game. Don't know what this last woman was trying to prove though. Some people are just stupid, I guess.

A lot of drama with associates being assessed in the visit a month ago. First up a customer attacking a clerk - first verbally then physically - while yelling comments trying to make it appear that the clerk was at fault. "You were rude to me" - no she was exceedingly polite. "You are being disrespectful" - no in fact he was the one being both rude and belligerent and threatening as well. Another co-worker realizing what was happening summoned the manager to deal with him. By this time a crowd of shoppers had stopped to watch the scene as the male demanded satisfaction - he wanted a refund and extra gift cards as well since "I spent a lot of money here, you know" naming an amount that was not all that high for the type of store it was. I was the only person to witness the entire incident and what bothered me most was that part of it seemed motivated by quarrels between the two non-Canadian cultures or religions represented - both Asian but different countries/tribes, I think. Intra-cultural/religious racism is a problem in this city and it is being used as a recruitment point for organized crime in a number of ways. The male was so physically aggressive that even I was standing well back after I saw that a store manager was intervening. He meant to intimidate and he also seemed determined to escalate a non-issue to a major confrontation. He threw something at the clerk, hitting her hand as she cowered behind the desk. The manager stepped in beside the clerk and started talking to the customer. At that point the clerk who had summoned the manager called me over to her register and proceeded to look after my transaction. She couldn't comment, but I noted that I had seen the entire incident and would, if I were to have a choice, have the police escort the male out with an order to not enter the store again - ever. What a jerk. In the second incident it was a customer who was abused by a clerk. The clerk's behaviour was so hostile - to a first time customer at that - that had I not been working I would have apologized to him just to ensure he knew he hadn't done anything to deserve the treatment he received.

As usual, the airport assignments were the most interesting. This past week the drama was more of the official kind. First, problems in the execution of my paperwork meant I had to return to the very first step of my visit to have it all redone. Lost about an hour of my time going through all the hoops a second time. One of my contacts in the airport has to be present for signatures. She had gone for lunch. She was just returning from her break as the paperwork was being completed for the second time. She rushed to my rescue as she has done several times now when the other contact person has been unco-operative. Her new trainee in tow, we finished that part of the process, joking about it among ourselves. Routine is dull anyway, isn't it?.

Back to the first security point and through, with apologies from the senior manager for having made me follow the rules. I noted that I would rather be a bit late getting home than not getting home at all because of a security breach. Doing their job, they are. Next security point, a change of procedure from the international authority meant I was sent through another series of new hoops and was almost not allowed out of their departure area. If that had meant I could board an airplane of my choice I would have beeen completely happy. However, wasting away in a secure area for the rest of the foreseeable future wasn't my idea of a good time. One of the local security people came to my rescue, taking responsibility for me and walking me out of there. That delay meant I got to the final gate at about the time when the whole rest of the people in the airport seemed to decide it was time for them to check in in that pre-board area. Conversation in the long, snaky line-up seemed to indicate that flights had been rescheduled on short notice and, hence, the bottleneck. Some travellers were being escorted through the line to the front of the queue, much to the angst of some of the people behind me. "Must be nice to have connections in high places" sniffed one woman. Seemed as though the airport staff and the airline staff were just trying to make certain the rescheduled patrons didn't pay for the problems - maybe the volcanic eruptions had caused some cancellations - more than once. Lots of very small children in the lineup made it entertaining for me. Toddlers are so funny. In between I was reading the one book one of my sons had provided for me for Mother's Day. Thoroughly engrossing. A history of the European Crusades that overlap with the storyline I want to write about in the novel I mentioned I was starting to work on last post to you, dear diary. Synchronicities abounding as the information I need to research seems to flow into my hands from all sources. Even my children are vehicles, it seems. A little work on the website I mentioned in my last post to you and an unexpected interview rounded off the work scenario. A bonus was the walking time from one place to the next to conserve bus tickets. Took photos of the local landscape on my way. There is the potential for income through all these activities, but nothing in the bank means I still can't pay those bills.

A lot of time spent with my sons and their families too. A+ and I went to my sister's home for our family gathering for celebrating Easter. Played with the grand-daughter I looked after for a few months, while talking with her Mom. Baby number two due at the end of the year it seems. Would I be willing to repeat the child care arrangement when the time comes for that baby? Yes, of course, if there's any feasible way to manage it financially. I would gladly work for free for all my sons looking after their children, if I could, but I have to pay my bills too. Maybe I'll have won the lottery by then - could happen.

Next up Easter break and my oldest son's partner had to be out of town for a week for a work conference. I stayed over there during the nights, while my son worked, rushing home in between to make certain my babies - the felines - were safe and secure. Major winter storm, you see, causing power outages and other indignities for everyone in the city. My son's home is on the side of one of the foothills that make up the northwest segment of the city. At the peak of the storm, a white-out meant I couldn't see the back alley let alone the gorgeous view they normally have from their living room. The grandbabies and I spent a lot of time playing and cooking, but also managed to do a fair amount of cleaning too.

Their Mom was in foster care from the time she was a baby, being moved from house to house on a regular basis. She said all her posessions had to fit in a black garbage bag, so she could be shunted around easily. Nothing was ever really deemed "hers" if it caused inconvenience for her carers. There was never anything such as her own space or her own family during her childhood. As a result, she demonstrates a lot of the behaviour patterns that people who survived the depression did. Hoarding and hiding things around the house so they can feel as though they are safe and belong in the home. I recall that when my grandmother died, the family found she had stashed money all through her home. Turned out to be a huge sum of cash, even though she only had access to her allowance from my grandfather, never having worked outside the home. That old Scotch thriftiness to the nth degree. A penny never left her purse without screaming in agony - the penny, not my grandmother. Lucky I learned those skills from her and my Mom, or my guys and I would have been living on the streets when we became a one-parent (me) family; ditto for the present, I guess. My grandmother's sister was constantly buying new clothes and storing them. She never wore most of them, but it was the comfort of knowing she wouldn't be cold, I think, that made her compulsive about keeping spare clothing around. My daughter-in-law's focus seems to be on art and craft material. She doesn't seem to have learned the skills of sorting and storing, so that is what the grandbabies and I did for her while she was at her conference. Amazing what treasures emerged. When my son arrived home in the middle of the night, the conversations focussed on family history as we watched Youtube clips of comics and musicians who share our family's background. Understanding one's roots helps one make better conscious choices; is it an old pattern that needs to be sustained or are new avenues of growth better?

As we worked, I told my grandbabies stories about their great-great grandparents. My ancestry research had recently helped me locate the enlistment papers for my Mom's grandfathers - complete with physical descriptions for the making of their uniforms, as well as all their next of kin information - for World War I. My Scots grandfather was the same height as me - who'd a thunk. That information told me where my great grandfathers had been during that war. Both at Vimy Ridge, for example. The one grandfather had been gassed (we think)and had to live in a hospice on his own after returning to Canada. My Mom recalled going to visit him frequently. What she remembers is that he wore long-johns even in the hottest weather, loved bad opera, and wouldn't let her win at cards. On my Dad's side of the family, I found the draft notifications for World War I from the US State Department for my grandfather and his brother. Both had long since emigrated to Canada and had farms and families dependent on them so they were exempt from service, but still the data on them was fascinating. I forwarded it on to family members who are also researching their families and some very interesting conversations arose as a result. Gave me more new information for my family tree - new babies, yay!

My oldest son invited me to join them at the Comic Convention as a thank you, so A+ and I spent a fascinating day browsing through all the exhibits, then going to one of the workshops. A+'s best friend and my grandbabies had wanted to attend those too, but the crowds were so large and boisterous - costumed as they were - that the fire marshalls blocked access to a lot of the people wanting to attend. Even the moderator for our session wasn't allowed to cross their line. Graphic artists Christopher Shy, Iain McCaig and Craig Elliott hosted a panel discussion for concept designers in our workshop, which was an intriguing exploration of what really happens in movie-making. Between them, they had worked with such directors as George Lucas and James Cameron, as well as the Pixar/Disney studios. I learned a great deal about the business side of things. Hmmm. Watched and photographed the crowds that swirled and eddied about the guest stars at the conference too - Leonard Nimoy and Brent Spiner - while A+ and his best friend chatted with some of the graphic artists/writers in attendance.

Mother's Day I heard from all my guys and made arrangements to meet with them at different times later in the month. Number three son arrived at my door with a huge bouquet of flowers and his girlfriend. I hadn't met her in person, so that was a real treat too. We made plans for the weekend. A+ and I spent this past Saturday playing at the park, that I helped raise the funds to build, with them and her four year son after loading up on calories at a local restaurant that I hadn't tried before. The food was yummy and reasonably priced too. The day was gorgeous and the park was filled with families. My son's girlfriend was describing her father's funeral as we came to the brow of the toboggan hill. It had been his favourite spot in life, so his memorial was held there and a bench installed where he had loved to sit while he was alive. Choked me up for certain, but it is stories like that that make all that volunteer time worthwhile. Down below we watched as a birthday child broke his pinata filled with gifts for him and his friends. Happy times too. A lot of good memories both photographically and emotionally.

A+ and I spent the next day with his best friend. first off dim sum for lunch then a trip to the movies to watch Iron Man II. It was well done, but was aimed more at children and young adults. Lots of action and adventure for certain, but I missed the excellent character development and the psychological profiles that were included in the first movie. Foreshadowing of the Avengers movie coming out next year with an appearance of Samuel Jackson as Nick Fury and of course, Natasha Romanov, Scarlett Johanssen's character, that appeared in this story.

Talked with my youngest son for a while. In Ohio it is tornado season, so I heard about drills and emergency preparedness. He tried to compare it to what we have to do in a blizzard, but at least we don't have to worry about our house being blown up - or down. When the Snow Queen comes visiting we just have to keep from freezing to death. I guess every type of disaster has it's own signature, although I think I far prefer Mother Nature's tantrums to the wanton destruction that some corporations seem to think is their perogative in the name of profits. Oops, ranting warning. A+ and I watched a really interesting documentary about the corporate destruction of Asia in between the visit with my number three son and A+'s best friend. Discussion around those issues and the political complicity that allows it to happen was the topic over lunch as a result.

Yesterday, I went to the funeral of one of my parents' best friends. My Dad and his new partner were the only people I really recognized, aside from the sons of that family. It was held at the cemetary where my Mom and her parents are buried, so it was sad and yet comforting all at the same time, if that makes any sense at all. My Dad was having a very difficult time, so I was glad I was able to go with them. His partner had called me on the weekend to ask that I come, you see. The slide presentation of the friend's life was beautifully done and included photos of my parents when my Mom was alive too. I cried through most of the service, but that's ok I guess. We went for brunch after and talked for quite a while about travels and plans for the future. My future tomorrow includes an early assignment cross town so I guess I'd best go get ready. Good night dear diary. Links and extra text to appear tomorrow.

�

previous - next

�