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Garbage

Many years ago I was living with a fellow and we were both very busy and tired people.

I was in University at the time and struggling. I was not a youngster as far as University students go, I was in my late 20’s. I know, young, but I was in over my head taking biology. I’d been out of school a long while. There were many late nights.

My boyfriend was a real estate agent, and in those days, business was booming.

One morning, bleary eyed, we collected the trash and headed to the elevator to leave for the day, me to school, my friend to the office.

We stood at the elevator, in silence, waiting for it to arrive.

You know, when you are really beat, you can have a moment where your brain goes to another place, or shuts off entirely and you do something totally absurd and it seems perfectly fine.

When the elevator arrived and the doors slid open, my friend, with trash bags in hand, threw them into the elevator, to a much surprised passenger, and we waited for the doors to close.

I looked at my friend, and he looked at me, and we suddenly realized what had just happened.

Shame faced, we took the stairs out.

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Body Identity

I have watched a lot of videos about animals that are disabled and how they live their lives. One in particular gave me a lot of pause for thought.

A beautiful cat with no front legs and hops around like a kangaroo, plays, rolls, head butts, gives chase and does all the things my cat does and has just as much joy. And he doesn’t seem to notice that he is any different than any other cat. He is unaware. Problem? What problem?

How can that be?

And then I realized it is because they are not identified as their body. They are a cat. It does not matter the body. They are cat no matter what their body looks like.

So what does it mean to be human?

Who am I other than my body?

Women are heavily identified with their appearance, so it is not an easy question to answer. We have been taught from the moment we arrive on this planet that our appearance determines our future, our success, our ability to win at life.

The gift of me getting older is this, my body no longer cooperates with my efforts to remain attractive.

It says, ponder that message from the kangaroo cat. He has the answer. He knows the secret.

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I Don’t Have To Go Out

All the familiar sounds of winter.

Snow plows clearing the parking lot and streets.

Tires spinning on icy pavement.

People scraping an inch or two thickness of ice from their windshields.

The silence of no bus coming.

The deadly silence of no train coming.

The north wind howling and angrily shaking my windows.

Ice pellets clunking on my balcony.

Me making another pot of tea, munching a shortbread cookie.

Hey look, I’ve spent most of my life battling winter trying to get to jobs I hated. Long commutes. LONG commutes. Hours to go a couple of kilometers. Non existent buses. Walking miles. Freezing. Hungry. Tired. Wet. Miserable!

So I don’t have to go out now. I’m going to enjoy it while it lasts.

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Three Stripes

One morning the cat came home with three stripes across his back, where there was no fur at all.

The skin had not been broken and the cat cheerfully wolfed down a bowl of food and retired to his favourite sunny spot for a nap.

Mom and I were extremely puzzled by this. We checked the cat over thoroughly, much to his chagrin as he tried to nap, but he was not hurt in anyway that we could discern, other than the three bare skin stripes.

Dad had gone off to work but came home shortly afterwards and burst through the door yelling “Where’s the cat?! Where’s the cat?!” He was absolutely freaking out.

My Mom told him the cat was in his sleeping spot, and that something unusual had happened, but she didn’t get to say what. Dad rushed to the see the cat. Much relieved he told us the story.

On the way to work, Dad’s car overheated and steam was pouring out of the radiator.

When he opened the hood, a huge mass of cat hair floated out.

The cat had been sleeping on the engine, and when Dad turned the car on, the fan belt assaulted the poor kitty and both were flung off. We can’t even imagine how this happened.

Cats really do have 9 lives.

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Pencils

My cat has a homing device for pens, pencils and most anything else resembling these things. Like plastic pipettes, ink bottle droppers, makeup brushes, tweezers, you name it.

The more expensive it is the better.

All artist supplies are expensive. If he can’t haul them away, he’ll chew them on the spot.

I have some very expensive pencils. I have to keep them in drawers and hidden away or suffer the consequences. I’ve watched him on occasion, he will carefully select the pencil he desires from my pencil holders. Not just any pencil will do.

Then he runs off with it and hides it. I don’t always find them, even when I give chase. He is quick and clever!

He professes innocence when I do find the pencil much later but he can’t hide the evidence; the pencil end sports many puncture wounds.

Some people don’t believe it is the cat, they say it is me chewing them.

But it is the cat, I swear.

He never eats them, thank goodness – I can’t imagine the lead or ink would be too healthy, and what a mess it’d make!

So he is not totally destructive. Just mischievous!

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Casts

Writing about my adventure with crutches, reminded me of an adventure with casts. A cat in a cast that is.

We had a tabby cat, one of many while I was growing up, and in those days, pets were free to explore the neighborhood and do whatever they pleased. Occasionally a dog might get loose too. No one was upset about it, usually.

Anyhow, our cat had an unfortunate encounter with a dog. Fortunately my Mom saw it and saved the cat. But the dog had broken the cats hind leg.

My Mom was only 4 feet 5 inches tall, but man, you did not mess with her. And when she wanted something, you were going to comply, or die.

The cat sported a cast for a long while, which kept us awake at nights. As we all know, cats love to torture their owners (they have a diabolical streak) and he would run up and down the stairs and across the kitchen floor, all night long. Thump, thump, thumpety, thump!

Now, back to Mom. She wasted no time finding out whose dog that was that committed this crime and the owners were going to pay the vet bill. And get a piece of her mind too.

The dog belonged to a world famous photographer that lived by the river near us.

With me in tow, we marched straight over there.

The woman, I presume it was the photographers wife, tried very, very hard not to part with any money for any vet bill. At first she invited us into her home and immediately regretted it, as Mom was not going to take any shit from her!

It was an awesome home. I’ll admit that.

I don’t know if Mom got the money but the cat got better. Eventually we all got some sleep.

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Crutches

Over the 2020 Christmas holidays I sprained my foot and had to dust off some crutches I got several years ago. Many times I thought I should get rid of those crutches, but was awfully glad I hadn’t.

It was a memorable Christmas, as was most of 2020, not in a totally good way, as my bathtub was also backed up from December 22nd into the New Year, as no one wants to come and deal with that during the holidays. Sigh. So I took a shower and afterwards, sat on the toilet and bailed my bath water from tub to sink. Picture that.

2020 had it all man.

Anyhow.

As I hobbled around my house, I remembered my ill fated introduction to these crutches.

They are beautiful, extremely light weight aluminum, as light as a feather. But crutches, I have discovered, could weigh 500 pounds, because it is not so much the weight of them to consider, as the effort required to use them to propel yourself.

In my infinite wisdom, I decided to use them one day at work, replacing the cane I normally employ for a hurt leg. Typical me, whatever works in a small situation is bound to work in a grander circumstance. So just shuffling from my office chair to the bathroom a couple of times convinced me I could do greater things.

I launched myself to the library at lunch, because when I was well I had no trouble going the few blocks there, a mere 5 to 10 minute walk. I swung merrily along like those mechanical monkeys on bars I’d seen as a kid.

When I got to the library, I had one of those moments where I was sure I was about to die.

I collapsed on the nearest bench in the foyer, sweat bursting from my every pore, my heart pounding like tribal drums. I desperately needed to lie down on the floor and wanted to moan, loudly, like those professional wailers at funerals. All I could do was put my face in my hands and cry.

Using crutches demands that you be in some kind of decent physical shape before you try to go miles with them. The physical exertion is unbelievable!

At least I forgot about my hurt leg for a while.

And, I still had to go back to work. How the hell was I going to carry library books anyhow? Duh! I was just so enthusiastic about going to the place I love.

I opted to drag my poor leg back to the office and carry the darn crutches.

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Bare Face

It has now been 10 months since I’ve worn makeup.

Not that I miss it.

When I was young, I wore makeup to enhance my looks. When I was older, I wore it to cover up my looks.

But now, who cares.

I’ve been out of work since we closed the office in mid March 2020, so I put away the mascara and blush and concealer and whatnot.

No more poisons on my face. Just look at the ingredients in those things! I tried at one time to make my own cosmetics from natural stuff and failed miserably.

My cat could care less what I look like, as long as the food dish is full and the litter box pooh free.

I have no idea how to do skype or zoom so no worries about what I look like. And I’m a senior, no matter what you plaster on my face. I don’t get asked for ID at the store on Seniors day. Mascara, concealer and blush ain’t gonna fool them 20 somethings at the cash.

Makeup won’t catch me a 20 year old for a fling. It’d kill me anyways.

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A Beacon

The tallest building, and by far, the ugliest in our city has finally completed installing the windows, which does not beautify it in the least. It is hideous from any angle, with any embellishment.

However, I digress. What redeems it, in an unusual way, is that the sun hits it in the mornings and sets it on fire, like a blazing monolith to the heavens and lights up my entire apartment!

I don’t get any morning light, only late afternoon, so it is kind of neat.

But that building is one UGLY piece of work.

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A Man in Himself

I read a post last year by a very angry man looking for work.

He was pissed because it seemed to him no one read his resume in detail or appreciated all of his achievements. They would contact him but then ask him what he considered to be a stupid question, that reflected the fact they had not read his resume.

His response to this was breathtaking.

He said he would end the conversation on the next person who did that! Wow! That’ll be sure to get you hired! He went on to say that anyone who wouldn’t take the time to examine all his marvellous achievements wasn’t worth talking to. That their opinions were irrelevant. He ended this rant with “don’t waste my time.”

What is more dazzling was that some people applauded his rant!

Okay. What I see is a very frustrated individual who needed to vent. Times are hard. We work so f’in hard and long and do wondrous, important things and no one notices or cares. We rack up achievement after achievement, plaster our walls with awards and certificates, and whoa. It means nothing.

Well, welcome to the real world.

We all have moments like this man. Where we are so incredibly immature and inwardly focused, vain and egoic and we lash out. I think however, a private journal would be more appropriate.

What he overlooked was the fact people were contacting him to find out more.

So obviously, something caught their interest. They wanted to talk to this person.

Do you know how many people can’t even get that? They get no response at all.

What an attitude!

Everyone comes searching for employment with the same package. Skills, experience, education, awards, references and a lot of external validations. There is more competition than ever for less work. So you can’t rely on your successes to sell yourself. People are not impressed by that, despite what you are led to believe. That is why we have interviews. To get to know the person. Truth be told, you can have no skill, experience, education, awards or a thousand other things and still get the job. Because you have the right personality. You can learn anything with the right attitude.

Case in point. I was visiting my brother in Texas and while I was browsing in a store that sold water fountains, something I know absolutely nothing about, the manager offered me a job there. The manager didn’t care about my life. She just liked me. Why, I have no idea.

So if someone can like me enough to hire me on the spot, shit, anyone can get hired!

Just be yourself.