“I’m On A Schedule, Here … “ Click Here To Comment!
My ex and I share custody of our dog. When we were together, it took us four years of debating and discussing to really decide that our lifestyle was able to handle the structure required to give a dog a decent life. Four years after acquiring said pooch, we broke up. Things have worked out well, though, and our dog (who is about to turn 10 in October) spends part of her time with my ex and part of her time with me. As of last Sunday, I have her for three weeks. Her name is Freddie. (That's the dog's name, not my ex's name …)
All this by way of saying that when I am on dog duty, my life shifts into a different set of gears. I have to be home more often and with more regularity. I don't have a back yard, exactly, so her exercise and, er, business need to be taken care of according to a reasonably regular walking routine.
Enter: new job. I now work 1.5 hours out of the city, however I only need to make the trip physically two or three times a week. This is the first week I've had both new job and Freddie, and I'm spending quite a bit of brain-time figuring out how to do errands efficiently and still make it home within my own personal expectations of being a responsible dog-owner.
On Monday, I had three errands to tend to after work and decided one was best done on the way home and the other ones could be done with Freddie in tow, and after her walk. Although I left Guelph later than I should have, traffic wasn't bad and I was back in the city by about 5:00 p.m., looking for parking on a residential street just north of the Danforth. I spotted a silver Toyota that the driver had just gotten into, put on my signal and waited. Nothing happened for the longest time. The driver, a gentlemen in his late 60's I'd say, seemed perturbed. Finally, he got out of the car and walked over to my car and said, "My car won't start – I think the battery is dead." Here, on my blog, I admit that my first thought was, "Oh, for Pete's sake … now I have to find another spot cos time she's a tickin' …" but then I remembered that I *still* have those cables that my colleague P "lent" me. I use the term "lent" loosely as she put them in my car two years ago and I haven't given them back … yet. I took a deep breath, shoved aside mental images of my doggie with her legs crossed, and smiled at the man. "I have some cables – I can help." His face brightened considerably. "Really?" he said, with relief.
I moved my car into position in front of his and rummaged around for the yellow bag with the cables. Here, I must admit I've never done this before. Sure, I've stood around while other more competent people have rigged up the cables. I've watched and I understand the basics. However, when you have two older brothers who delight in scaring the crap out of their little sister by making sparks fly using booster cables … and when they loved to do this as often as possible on every piece of farm equipment that even remotely needed a boost … well, one treats this whole process with some respect.
"Sir, would you mind holding this end of these cables for a minute? Thanks. No – wait …hold them apart from each other, don't let the metal parts touch … really, you do have to be careful about that … see those plasticky-rubbery handle bits? You really must keep your hands on those. Good … OK … red on my red … red on your red. Check. Black on your black … black on my ground … "
You know, on modern cars, plastic looks a lot like metal … not much was happening at first. I took a deep breath and moved my black to the black post on the battery and … voila! Presto, starto … now, to carefully remove the cables …
"Sir, I'm going to hand these to you as I take them off, in order. You really MUST touch only the plastic handles … and you really MUST NOT let the metal parts touch … "
The whole thing took less than 10 minutes … what really surprised me was the helplessness of this fellow. He had a sort of lost kitten look about him that made me wonder if he was really capable of driving a car. Then, I wondered if the car with dead battery thing was just a ploy to keep Alzheimer's ridden grandpa at home … but he was well down the street by the time this thought occurred to me. I just did what Mom taught me to do – tried to help where I could. It is possible that what feels like helping, to me, might not actually be so helpful at all … as I pondered all this, thoughts of Freddie with her legs crossed began to intrude, and I hurried through my errand to make up the lost 10 minutes.
I made it home to find my dog not in distress at all. As per usual, she slept for most of the day and, as far as she was concerned, I might have been gone only one hour instead of much longer. She seems way less concerned with the whole scheduling thing than I apparently am.
Rooting Around the Archives Click Here To Comment!
I'm rooting around my "misc text" files, searching for e-mail addresses of all things. I just found this – I think I wrote it about a year ago … thought I'd toss it up here, see who picks it up …
… Here is something I've been thinking about … I believe we each have many selves. In fact, this was part of what I was taught in theatre school – to identify and draw on and honour the many versions of self in order to create characters, to interpret scripts, scenes, perspectives. It follows, then that we each have a best self and a worst self. The bright shining light and the dark cellar of despair. Our day-to-day functional self probably falls somewhere in between. Lately, I've observed that some people were raised to share their worst self with the people closest to them, reserving the "best" self for public view. My father was like this, to an extreme. He would travel and bring presents back for neighbours but nothing for his family. I became aware of this in my family when I was quite young and have always thought it was weird behaviour to punish the people closest to me for caring about me. As an adult, I continue to bear witness to this phenonmenon, all around me, and I continue to be confused by it. It is true that those closest probably will get glimpses of the worst self, and should be able to help you withstand the dark times … but what prize is there in being close to someone who gives away their best energy elsewhere, leaving none for the inner circle?
Blackbeard Tampons – Rugged Click Here To Comment!
Borrowed from Bookmole, source of all things odd and wonderful … 
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Freecycle Click Here To Comment!
Does everyone know about FreeCycle? If not, you should … no, this has nothing to do with bicycles, unless you have one to give away.
This is the Internet being put to good use, in my opinion. FreeCycle simply offers a means for people to circulate stuff amongst themselves without it winding up in landfills. Last week, I got rid of some perfectly good horizontal blinds that no longer had a purpose at my place, and a box of Star Trek videos. Interestingly, the same guy took both items.
This is a worldwide concept, with highly localized cells, so you can likely find a neighbourhood FreeCycle through this link. For example, I belong to the Toronto CabbageTown FreeCycle list. I receive postings of things on "offer" or "wanted" – it works both ways. You get to ask for stuff and also to monitor what is being offered. This service is particularly useful for people "in transition" from one place to another.
I have used this exclusively to get rid of stuff and I've never had to wait more than a few hours for a response to my "offered" items.
Weirdest thing offered lately? An opened box of granola. Specifically, the message read: one almost-full box of Dorset Cereals granola, Cherries and Berries flavour. This was followed by a story involving preferring homemade muesli but not finding the ingredients, etc.
Weirder still? Someone took the granola in less than 12 hours.
But … what is it for? (Part Deux) Click Here To Comment!
Apparently, also insomniac's relief! 🙂 This just in from my friend, m …
Hi Venus,
I’m having a night of insomnia. Not that unusual. But guess how I spent the last half hour? Catching up on Venus' Blog! Enjoyed it enormously. Love the new bike, by the way. Have you and T thought about venturing down here for our wonderful bike path? Great shot of you in your kitchen and very impressed that you could have a sit down dinner for that many! Loved the video of the hamster and watched it twice. How can I email it to a friend? There’s more I wanted to comment on but I’m feeling sleepy now, so I will give sleep a chance.
BTW, I realized as soon as I saw the opera singing winner of the Brit show, that I have seen him perform. WONDERFUL!
Thanks for everything.
m
See? Blogging … not just for breakfast anymore!
A cynical person might interpret this to mean that my blog is so boring that it makes insomniacs too sleepy to comment … but, of course, I am not a cynical person.
But … what is it for? 1 comment
I can remember seeing lots of different, strangely shaped hand tools on the farm when I was growing up, and asking, "What the heck is that for?" Occasionally, one of my favourite magazines, Cooks Illustrated, has a "what the heck is this?" column in which people write in with pictures of some kitchen gadget they've come across and the magazine tries to explain its history and use.
Then again, there is this contraption I spotted on the highway last week. I'd love to know what it is for! (the yellow thing-me-job on the truck)
Often, people ask this question about a blog. What is it for? I have read many of my neighbours' struggles with this as they ponder the indulgence of this practice. Why am I doing this? Who gives a sh*t? Why am I imagining that someone out there gives a sh*t?
I personally think a very good use of a blog is to document one's passage through trying times. We can all learn from the courage, humour and perspective of others as they put one foot in front of the other and keep their eyes focused on getting out the other side.
My friend, Dry Ice, recently had a diagnosis of breast cancer and I hope she puts her thoughts and unique interpretations down in her blog as she starts on this journey. Dry Ice always has an insightful, honest and direct way of viewing the world and I'm sure she'll take in all the information she can about this, process it, and come out with some wisdom we can all learn from.
Hope to see you over there!
A Certain Discipline 1 comment
There is a certain discipline to blogging, once one has committed to it. If one waivers, or appears to, one is "poked", to coin another Internet-inspired phrase. I direct my loyal readers to the land of wizzy, where great things are due to happen. Any minute now.
Speaking of discipline, as I take these herbal supplements and continue on this new eating regime, I am noticing some things. Of course, everyone wants to know the magic number. It is 15 lbs since June 29. I'm good with that. Not too slow, not too fast … but the big initial weight drop has happened and now it is hard slogging the rest of the way, I think. I have 25 years of sedentary, eat-all-I-want life to shed. It won't come easy, methinks.
Besides the magic number, there are other things I'm noticing:
More energy. I can't say whether this is something to do with the herbs, or with carrying around less weight. I don't get tired like I used to and I feel ready to go most of the time. T has noticed my energy levels WAY up, which I think she finds a bit daunting! 🙂 Part of the "more energy" thing is that I now seem to desire increased activity … I definitely think this is a good thing. I also feel more consistently focused and on-task.
Cravings, lite. It would be wrong to say that I'm just tripping along this diet without a care, tra-la. Not so. I'm missing pizza, in particular, as it contains much of what is restricted for me at the moment – crust and cheese. I miss cheese – this is probably the hardest. I'm allowed one ounce of cheese a day as my "dairy" portion – but that means no yogurt or other dairy. So, day-by-day, I have to choose how I "spend" my dairy allotment. I'm missing bread and pasta. But, I'm not missing these things nearly as much as I thought I would. I don't obsess about them as I thought I would. I can still eat really satisfying foods like burgers (wrapped in lettuce rather than a bun) and eggs.
And, yes, I miss sushi pizza. I will need to break down and cheat on this part soon. What is sushi pizza, you ask? Here is a photo someone else has taken of the delicacy. Just for the record, I've checked and I don't think this is available on the Wet Coast as it is a true bastardization of traditional sushi. But it sure is yummy.
Coffee. I used to drink one cup of coffee a day, first thing in the morning, but now I notice that I want more than that. Not sure this is such a great trade-off. Coffee hits that same bittersweet place on my taste buds as dark chocolate, and it is sweet and rich, even with Splenda. So it feels like an allowable treat.
OK – time to finish writing a marketing plan, shower, cycle / errands, pack for a quick cottage trip and then head to the Hot and Spicy Food Fest!
Creative C-O-R-E 1 comment
A couple of years ago, someone sent me the following. The original author is Jordan Ayan, whom I know nothing at all about, but I want to give credit where it is due. I printed this off and taped it up at my cubicle where I was teaching. Not sure there is a place for it in the new workplace, but I'll put it here where I can reference it from time to time.
Maintain your Creative C-O-R-E:
Curiosity:
You must have a burning desire to know about the world and everything in it. Your curiosity drives you to wonder if something in your life can be done differently, or improved.
Openness to People and Ideas:
You must be willing to accept people and ideas that differ from your own background. Your openness allows you to explore new paths and diverse opinions, which lead to new ideas.
Risk Tolerance:
You must walk through life unafraid to take a risk now and then. Your ability to tolerate risk may put you on the edge once in a while, but that's where the newest ideas and biggest payoffs are.
Energy:
You must maintain a boundless energy for life, for helping others, and for making yourself a better thinker. Your energy keeps your mind constantly moving and thinking.
Use your Creative C-O-R-E. Take time everyday to explore. Do something different, talk to someone with a different perspective. Ask questions. Remember – your creativity and innovation is important.
Shifting Gears Click Here To Comment!
I live in a city where people make good use of bicycles. Granted, this is Toronto, not Copenhagen or Amsterdam or Bejing where the bicycle rules. But, on the scale of things in North America, Toronto is one of
the more bike-friendly cities. There is a bike culture … and I have longed to be a small part of it. I cannot give up my four wheels, especially now since my work takes me out of the city easily three times a week. But I have watched cyclists with envy, quietly going about the city in an independent, self-sufficient and often graceful manner.
As a kid, I practically lived on my bike. It was my major mode of transport from about the age of eight until I left home for university. My friends lived up and down the road of the farming community I grew up in, and there was a conservation area with a pool that we all congregated at daily – this was about a 20 minute bike ride from home. Who knows what my Mom thought of me taking off for hours at a time. My friends and I also rode our bikes for play, pretending they were horses, and trying to get them to be mountain bikes or
cross-country bikes before such things really existed. So much of my childhood involved taking my bike entirely for granted.
My ex and I bought bikes – this is about 10 years ago. They looked good, these bikes, or at least mine did. It was green (of course) and it had a basket on the front. It was the MOST uncomfortable bike on the
planet. I would stare at it, in frustration and pain, knowing that just lowering my butt onto the seat would cause me to wince. Being in such utter pain in my nether regions caused me to be paranoid about all the
other things I need to pay attention to in the big city … motorists, car doors opening, motorists, pedestrians, children, motorists, car doors, dogs, motorists … the paranoia came from having so much of my attention focused on the pain that I feared that I wasn’t paying enough attention to the stuff that could actually kill me. I think I rode that bike no more than three or four times before retiring the idea completely. I convinced myself that my body just wasn’t built for biking.
T bought a bike a few weeks ago. This was HUGE for her. She didn’t learn to ride as a child and is teaching herself as an adult. I admire her chutzpah. There is so much we take for granted about bike riding as just knowledge one has acquired along the way … how to move the pedal so you can put your foot on it to start out … how to balance … how to steer …how to stand up going over bumps … how to speed to get through uncertain bits of the road. For T, this is like learning Swahili at age 50 – it all feels very counter-intuitive to her. She had originally thought she’d buy a trike – one of those contraptions that has three wheels and a basket sort of thing out back but the man in the store convinced her that she was too young for that and that she could indeed learn to ride a decent bike. He sold her a sturdy bike with training wheels. And a helmet. The training wheels are VERY loud and she is getting pretty tired of them, I think, but she is also not quite sure she is ready to have them raised. The whole balance thing is a mystery to her. She slows down before speed bumps, which makes pedaling over them harder. She starts to yell out, and slow down,when she sees that she is coming up on a hill or a turn, uncertain of what to do or how to trust the machine beneath her. However, in the moments between being scared and uncertain, she admits that she really likes riding her bike. In some place within, she is having fun. With practice, this will all get easier for her, I think.
I watch all this in admiration and think to myself … maybe I could do this again if I had the right bike. So, I did it – I bought a bike! It was on a whim and a tad reckless, really – but the moon and stars must have been in alignment because I bought exactly the perfect bike for me. I’m totally smitten. T and I went out for four hours – my first lengthy bike ride since I was about 17, I think. My butt hurt a little bit by the end, I admit, but absolutely nothing like it once did. I was ready to go out for another four hours the next day, which is a
complete switch from how things were 10 years ago. We started in the Beaches, on the bike path, heading west to Ashbridge’s, then carried on to the Leslie St. Spit where we stopped to eat the lunch we packed.
Then we headed back. This would normally have taken about, oh, an hour maybe? But with T in learning mode … the pace proceeds much more slowly. This is actually fine with me as I was on my own learning
curve, getting re-acquainted with the brakes, gears, bike etiquette, traffic protocols, etc.
I loved being out on a bike. LOVED it. Didn’t matter to me in the slightest that we were going slow. I just loved the feeling of it again. T tells me I look like I was born to be on a bicycle, which says to me that my body remembers what it once knew so well. I really do think it is like learning a language – that there is a window of time when we learn things monumentally easily as children and then that window closes before we are about 10, I think. One of the reasons I hesitated to buy a bike has to do with my weight. I said I’d do it when I’d lost a bit more and that maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much. I’m glad I didn’t wait, and I’ve proved to myself that my body is capable of more than I give it credit for. Yesterday, T bought a bike rack for the back of her car so we can take our bikes to a wider range of bike paths. For now, we are looking for paths that are flat-ish and not too busy, although T did admirably well navigating the Beaches path with all the long-weekend pedestrian traffic. We are open to suggestions from those with more cycling experience in this city!