I LIKE GEOLOGISTS

 There are a few things that Princess Pirate complains about because I mention them too often. Hexagons are one.  The thing is, she points them out to me now, so I know that they are growing on her too. I mean, it’s a perfect shape, the hexagon. Except for when a designer goes a little crazy and tries to make something new like an elongated hexagon, which is always a mistake. Spring flowers like trillium are another. There is, however, an obsession that we share, and that I never get complaints about. We both love rocks. 

So I was looking for some cool sites to explore that have local geological interest. Since we had plans to go this past weekend for the Tulip Festival, I looked for information about Ottawa. When I found this website about Ottawa Gatineau Geoheritage Day, I was very excited. It was exactly what I was looking for. It had a map, and pictures of what we would see. 

One picture that particularly caught my interest was a familiar phenomenon that I had seen at McGill’s Redpath museum when it was open (pre-COVID). Unfortunately, we did miss the Geoheritage day, packed with tours, as it had already passed a couple weeks earlier. I did, however, identify where the formation of fossilized stromatolites (only two living Cyanobacteria reefs still exist - the Bahamas and Australia) were just off the Champlain bridge, and hoped to visit with my friend. In the end, she was game, and it was just the excuse we both needed for a wander around the streets and along the river on the Quebec side. 

I had noticed that, on three occasions, rocks described on the website were in “plane sight”. I wrote a comment (my inner editor could do no less) that I thought they may be mistaking the homonym for in “plain” site, and I was please to get an immediate answer back. It was even more gratifying that the mistakes were corrected within hours, accompanied by a hilarious email apologizing for the mistake because they did not have a pilot’s license! (Full disclosure, there is a term in geology that can be used with the word plane and not refer to aviation, but in this case I was right!)

Besides giving us places to go, I found that there was a book for sale that reminded me a geologic tour that  Princess Pirate and I loved in downtown Montreal from the Redpath museum. In this case, it was based in Ottawa, and advertised for $20, which seemed a reasonable amount for a risk of possible poor quality or disinterest. I reached out to Dr. Quentin Gall by email, and with a few back and forths, we agreed to meet just beside the Tulipfest.

I suppose I should have been more specific than deciding tomeet at a busy corner of his choosing without even exchanging phone numbers. We didn’t know who the other was, but he did say he was coming by bike, and there was a biker was wearing a very red obvious red shirt that passed the intersection twice while we walking nearer.  Encyclopedia strikes again! 

Quentin was charming, and full of enthusiasm for why I was looking for his book, and what I thought of the website.  He came with change (and wouldn’t keep a tip). The book was sponsored, so what I paid for two copies was a bargain for the work that was put into it! 

He asked me if I was a scientist, and I didn’t know quite how to answer. Not really, was the first thing that came to mind, quickly followed by the thought that, yes, I kind of am. It was the first time in a long time that when I admitted that I was a physician that the conversation didn’t change. He was a doctor too, and that was that, which was lovely.

The book was of such excellent quality, and arranged in small areas perfect for walking tours. He clearly could talk for hours about the rocks in the buildings listed in the book, but he was clear that he also provided the architectural context that I am more used to recognizing as a real bonus to my joy. The book also has an extensive intro to all the terms I need to know and some excellent charts in the back that have already given me a great deal of data that I have enjoyed, sitting at a table reading it. I cannot wait until I can walk around on a nice day and use it for reference. I should be able to make some educational guesses in Montreal with the glossary until I get back to Ottawa later this summer (for Hamilton!)

I’ll also have to return to the Champlain bridge late summer when the water table is low enough to see the fossilized stromatolites, and I think that will not have to twist my friend’s arm to come with me on a geological architectural walking tour next time I can come to town. She might even check it out before I make it back!

So, for now, I have in my calendar to look for Jane’s Walk next May, and look for more geological and heritage events in future.

Here’s another lead for another day. In this case, June 4, 2022. Alas, this year I am working. Most of them are Toronto and beyond, but there is one in Ottawa, in case that’s where you are in  3 weeks time!

Ontario has a heritage site for buildings and an open door day to visit.

DURA MATER

 My autobiography title translates roughly as tough mother. It is, in part, a story of one of my favourite aspects of life; relating to my daughter. I tell her stories calling her Princess Pirate. Tonight she created a new one when she said good night. I kissed her on her head in a hug, and she said in her best teen voice, “Ugh, you are killing me with kisses!”

I told her a Princess Pirate story recently, and she thought that I was the Queen and her dad was the Pirate, when I always thought it was the other way around.

He liked (and took) the china, crystal glasses, and Waterford utensils. He stayed unemployed for long periods of his life because so many jobs he was eligible for were “beneath” him. He was content to live a tiny life, and only went along, never inspiring or creating any adventures. 

I had the drive to travel, try new things, and do knew things or at least fun things we like. I could care less about china, or crystal, although I do like the feel of well made utensil! I will do whatever it takes, because who else is going to do it if not me?

I am not sure which version bothers me more. As a queen, I have no King, but how does he get the exciting role of pirate? Because this is what male culture assumes, even to my child? It’s not based on his personality, surely?

As the pirate, I feel I am appropriately counter culture, and suits me the best in the coupling of two fantasies that created the amazing Princess Pirate!

TONIGHT I HAVE THE WORST JOB IN THE WORLD

I was just about to go to bed tonight after a nail-biting 14 hours of call. I had started to imagone a long walk tomorrow morning for a decadent coffee after a sleep-in without alarm, and time to shop for needed extra scrubs so that if I forget them at home, I have an extra pair in my car. 

It all came to a screeching halt thirty minutes ago when I got a call with no name. I answered it with hesitation, knowing where my notes are for code orange, and praying it was not a disaster that would be remembered in the minds of Montrealers for decades to come, like Dawson was.

The best of all worlds, which is why I have determined to have the worst job in the world, is the following: without any time to sleep before hand (anyone who does nights knows this is a mistake), I am called in to do the night shift. That’s my best cast scenario. On a 24 hour day of call, I get to work the worst shift, with no appreciable notice, and my tomorrow day off is written off.

You can’t pay someone enough for this to be worth it. Other work places, you are on call and called in, you stay home the next day and the hours worked overnight count. To us, it’s just additional work.

So, tonight I have the worst job in the world. My consolation seems sadistic in context, because the only way I can make this seem better to remind myself that at least I am not a patient.

THESE LEGS

 My mom was always hiding her legs. She had varicose veins, especially on one side, and I only remember her wearing shorts a couple of times.  It always seemed that she was embarrassed. She was probably the one who started me shaving my legs. I don't really remember a time when I didn't. I remember a few nicks around my ankles (the razors got so much better, thanks to Gillette's Venus design) and an early attempt with the sulphorous smelling nair. I missed the waxing until I was in Montreal. An expensive way, but lasted longer. I might have continued if the local esthetician wasn't hairless and gave me the impression that she couldn't related to my hairy body in any way and made it her mission to eliminate any hairs, at least in the area I paid for that day. 

The reality is that I had good legs for a while. Sure, when I was a teen, I wished they didn't taper like chicken legs that I inherited from my dad. I only had one kid, so the varicosities I had were not as bad as if I had carried three. I never shaved above my knees, so there came a day that it just didn't make any sense to me why society didn't care about some parts of my body being hairy while others were frowned upon. I am a furry person. I have arm hair and facial hair and belly hair. If I removed every one of them, it would be a fulltime job! It would also look weird to me. When I stopped running and hit my 40s, my legs started to look worn. 

When I look down on the legs I took a picture of in my 49th year, I know they are no longer great legs, but they are good legs. They work, get me where I need to go, and they are probably the best they are going to be for the foreseeable future. So I embrace the veins, the hair, the scars, and the wrinkles. Today, I celebrate these legs. These legs are my legs, and I am proud of them!

PARENTING STRATEGY FROM THE MEDICAL AND BUSINESS WORLD

 Tim Harford is an amazing storyteller, and his podcast called Cautionary Tales is full of half-hour story arches that teaches lessons, like fairy tales to adults!

Episode 20 speaks to the idea of masterly inactivity being the opposite of micro-managing, and it rang a bell for me from the basic logic laws that all doctors follow: First, do no harm. *For some people this is easier than others. It's sometimes taught to students "just sit on your hands". It is easy for some people to want to jump into action, in an emergency, and when you child is struggling with something. If it is not truly an emergency, it is important to know that, more often than not, things will resolve themselves. In those cases, doing something might mean doing something harmful. 

Take for example that someone has fainted. I have seen it over and over an instinct to act, sitting the person up, and thus stopping the natural reestablishment of the circulation that would happen if they had been left supine, and sometimes resulting in seizure like body tremors from the brain's lack of oxygen circulation. Even in health care's hands, some nurses don't lay them flat, but use a stretcher to lower their head in a positional called Trendelenberg. This, unfortunately, decreases the ability of the heart to pump because it shunts blood away from the atrial chambers. Just leave things alone! 

I think it's important as a parent, especially with teens, but at any age, to practice masterly inactivity. When they are young, you help them establish the limits of their own body by respecting their individuality, and it sets up the boundaries they need to understand the need to grant and receive consent. When they are teens, you allow the parts of them unlike yourself to be put forward and what they want to do with it. I don't mean ignore those who have no sense of their own boundaries. You need to step in when that boisterous relative wants to kiss everyone on the mouth, or hug your shy kid when they clearly don't want it. There is a difference between politeness in greeting and non-consentual physical contact. 

THE DROPOUT

 It's a lot more functional for me to drop into a podcast wormhole, because I can listen to it incessantly while commuting, doing dishes, laundry, shovelling, exercising, cooking and cleaning. A similar binge of video makes my bum a little flatter and wider, so when I started to watch The Dropout on Disney, it was fortunate that only a few episodes existed in video, whereas the podcast series had 24 episodes that I have eaten up in the last week while staying relatively active and productive!

If you don't know the story, it's a gripping one. Another Stanford dropout becomes a billionaire, but this time it's a woman. Elizabeth Holmes was, for a few years, the youngest female billionaire, by founding and becoming CEO of a Silicon Valley company called Theranos (therapy and diagnose) based on a revolutionary idea that blood tests didn't need to from a traumatic needle in a vein, but from a small quantity of blood from a smaller puncture to the fingertip. Unfortunately for many, it was never a reality, and Elizabeth's trial is followed from the beginning to the verdict. 

Attorney Jay Edelson says in the Verdict: January 5, 2022

"I think overall this is going to lead to a tremendous shakeup in Silicon Valley. We've had 20 plus years of Silicon Valley playing fast and loose with facts, and everyone kind of just agreed that it was okay, and it really isn't okay. It's not okay to steal a billion dollars ... It concerns me that Elizabeth Holmes was, at the time, the most prominent female startup, and the number of men who have gotten away with stuff that Elizabeth Holmes did, if not worse, it would fill (you know)journals. I do, just as someone who believes so much in consumer rights in not defrauding people, I am glad about this guilty verdict. It makes me uneasy that.. um, I don't want there to be one scapegoat here. I am not saying that she didn't do anything wrong. She deserves her sentence, but I think that there are a lot of other people, a lot of men, who have done similar things, and I hope that justice will done in other instances as well."

Silicon Valley investor and critic Roger McNamee  Crime and Punishment: October 12, 2021, 23:43

"The thing about Elizabeth Homes that I look at, that gives me hope for humanity: you wouldn't have had to go back more than 5 years when it would have been impossible for a woman to raise that kind of money, even for a great idea. Men have been raising money for bad ideas for a really long time... that actually represents social progress."

WORDLE

It seems ironic and slightly frustrating that the name of this popular online game of solitaire is six letters long, when it only calls for five. It's a lot easier to find a word six letters long, so each time I have to find with five, it is a challenge.

This game reminds me of the game mastermind, but it seems more fun and marvellous that I can shuffle through my unseen dictionary of my memory and find a solution with 6 attempts almost all of the time. 

It's become a daily habit, and a monitor of my fatigue. When I find myself putting the yellow letters in the same place instead of moving it to any other spot, I know I need to check my fatigue, hydration, and nutrition.

If you haven't heard of it, you need to try it. Apparently it exists in other languages. Maybe I'll look for the french version next. 

FORTY-NINE BIS AND BETTY WHITE AT NINETY-NINE

It was going to be a tough Covid party to hold, so I when I cancelled my party, in the midst of my friend's Christmas dinner plans and vacations, I was feeling alone in my strictness, and a little unsure that this was the only way. It was the best way, but it felt like it cost me the most. I was at peace with the decision, but not happy about it. Six months earlier, I had given up the dream of Christmas in London and New Year's in Paris for this milestone year, in the midst of Covid, but I really had hoped to keep the tradition alive of my Megapalooza party with the wonderful women in my life. As the 5th wave broke and my peers were not protecting their shifts or me, I settled on a compromise that made me happy. A group of six who were all vaccinated, respectful people, whose lives intertwined at the best of times, plus my daughter and me. It would be sedate, but a celebration nonetheless, and an opportunity to hand down the "old lady" stick that had made its rounds down to me, the youngest of the crew.

Alas, the Christmas plans that people were making were too risky for me to have them over on the sixth day of Christmas, and I couldn't expect them to self isolate (I have a small life, but they do not) for my party in lieu of their get-togethers, that would inevitably involve eating. I wanted eating too, or it wasn't much of a party. Wearing masks, 2 m apart, no food or drink. I cancelled, and resolved that I would not turn another year older until I could get together with friends. That was my intention, until I woke up that morning. My declaration had done nothing. I was 50 and there was no way around it. 

I had stayed up late the night before, cleaning the kitchen and making crepes so that my daughter would have a treat. As the only child of a part-time single mom at home, I didn't want her to make up the lack of other people in my life, but I was hoping to inspire her to at least make a nutella banana wrap for us. Sure enough, she brought us breakfast in bed, and we ate together then read together until the doorbell rang. From that moment on, it was hectic! I have had calmer days on call, with calls coming in 2 and 3 at a time. I would hold out my phone for her to answer my cell because I was on the housephone, and I was answering the door with a phone pinched between my ear and shoulder to reach out for the package or flowers or cake! 

I had two things to do, and I only got one done, because my unplanned day was too busy! 

I went for a walk with two of my friends. We went around for longer than expected, and I was cold and ready to get back when they surprised me with a tailgate party of hot chocolate, and a box filled with gourmet goodies that only these talented ladies could do! Homemade lemoncello cake, pesto, lentil soup, fried rice, cheese and grape starter, bubbly, vichyoise, falafel mix, muffins and more! It was a box packed with love, and wrapped with reused recycling. It was kindness and love in edible form, and it was just what I would have wanted, and I didn't even think to ask for. Four of the "chicks" had gotten together, but the organization went further than that. Another neighbour came by with a tin of cookies, and the party planning friend that had insisted I do something special for the day, and I felt terrible to cancel on her, had brought her own version of a tailgate party, with a bouquet of vegetables and a tray of snacks that travelled around the world - spanish olives, french brie with crust, skewers of insalata caprese and roses of smoked salmon (her favourite protein). With real champagne (hard to find with the run on SAQ items from the warehouse strike), and balloons, added to an enourmous bouquet of flowers my parents sen, I was missing nothing but the company. ( I would have given it all up for the company in a heartbeat). 

My daughter and I ate with a new Disney movie to watch. I opened a nice bottle of Cab Sauv and we watched the show uninterrupted, only because I turned off the ringer  early on when I saw we would never make it through otherwise. The house was a mess, and my daughter was off to bed early (getting ready for the marathon of staying up past midnight tonight), so she sternly told me to leave it, and I went to bed with three books, reading until the day ended. 

So much for 49 bis, and so soon the next decades will come. 

Betty White died at 99 today, and I am inspired to have half her spririt at the end. How much she must have had at this age to be there, taking jokes and making them, as quick as ever, with a slowing of her body, but never her mind.

I have talked to people across the country over the last 24 hours, and these things stand out the most:

I don't see what others see, but what I have (at least far away and in small doses) is valuable.

I have a lot yet to do, and a lot to say, and I had better, as my Grandma would say "get cracking"!

I need to transition, and soon, to doing something that I love, for work.

I need to get my house in order, for my sake, my daughter's sake, and for the sake of the limited time I have to do many things not yet done.

I need to find a way to bounce back from a work day with a bad sleep schedule to a healthy day and good sleep. 

I need to write, and create, and record, and remind others more of how special they are.

I need to take the time alone as precious and use it for progress in solitary pursuits. I need time alone, and yet mourn when I get it and don't use it well.

I need to stop waiting for Princess Pirate to learn these things from me. I need to build the curriculum and the house systems without her. I have to stop being afraid of the loss of opportunities that she chooses not to take, and have faith that it will come to her when she is ready. 

I need to guard my introverted strengths voraciously, and be my own thinktank. If I am frustrated, I need to write about until I come up with solutions. 

I need to be alone a little longer until I cherish being alone. Until I can say no to an invitation. Until I lose my fear of missing out (FOMO).

ASKING TOO MUCH

 I was on call on the wards for the last time change. It worked out no different for me, because although my call was one more hour, and my pay was by day, so no overtime, I didn't get called in, or even called. Others had to work overnight for one more hour, with their compensation being overtime.

When I got to work, I asked the two nurses who got an extra hour that night how it went. The first nurse had slept the extra hour, and she was very pleased. The second nurse couldn't sleep in, but enjoyed the extra hour before work. 

I had managed to sleep in, but I found myself wanting to also have a longer day. In that moment, I realized that this is why I am often frustrated with how much I want to get done in a certain amount of time. I was given an extra hour, and felt like I lost one. My expectations are impossible!

BOOKSTORES ARE A SPECIAL PLACE

 I was at the Farmer's market today, and on the way from my parked car, I saw a used bookstore I had never seen before. Turns out it has been there for 15 years, but I usually park the other way, and never crossed its path. 

Bookstores and libraries have been special places for me for a long time. I have fond memories of a mobile library in front of my elementary school, before the local library in our new development suburb had a building. I remember the local library with endless collections of Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew and Asterix and Tintin and how to be a spy book and sign language. I remember a larger library that had rare books of plays that we tried to act out in a puppet theatre made from refrigerator box. It was the first place I read a book that I regretted that there were no ratings for books. There were movies by then, and you could be sure of what you were getting, but if there was sexual aggression in the book, there was no warning on the back cover, and once you read it, you couldn't unread it. Even the church I went to had a small library, so that  in all my growing up years, the only bookstore I remember being in was a Christian bookstore, and then the University bookstore for textbooks.

The first bookstore I remember being in was near Trinity Western University in BC. My ex-boyfriend and I found nothing more fun than browsing through the aged pages of a local bookstore in the sunshine. When I travelled to Europe, the draw for English books was so strong that people gave word of mouth instructions on how instructions on how to find the Shakespeare multi-level bookstore on Unter den Linden in Berlin. 

My favourite bookstore in the West Island of Montreal was just one major street away, and better than the bookstores that were downtown. That didn't stop me from visiting it when I went by, but it gave me such grief when it closed down that I don't think I have visited the other downtown haunts in case they too have closed.

I once knew the son of a wealthy man who inherited a bookstore as his first business venture. I don't know that it was ever sold as a business, but I know the son did other things in IT instead. It always reminded me of a church pastor that deserved to have a bookstore. He loved books more than anyone I have ever met. His house was packed with books. They were stacked up like temporary walls in the living room, around furniture. His wife was a saint in her tolerance of his habits. He was not a hoarder in other ways, but with books, he had as close to a problem as anyone. He would buy them bulk. Once it was a truckload. But he read the books he received. Underlined passages in them. Was inspired by them. Quoted them in sermons. Lent them to friends. He told a story that he would read books on open quiet highways while he drove with his knees, until the day that he hit a piece of lumber on the road, and realized his folly before worse happened. I wish I could rent out a space for this man's personal library, because I know him well enough that it would be a lending library to all.

Even my favourite movie is a romantic comedy set in a New York bookstore. It was adapted from a film set in Budapest that is called Shop Around the Corner. Although it is a Jimmy Stewart black and white film that I have a soft spot for, I prefer the movie that it inspired called You've Got Mail.

FRIDAY, EVERY OTHER WEEK

 I am always surprised at how low I can go on the day I say good-bye to my girl for another week at her dad's.

It's been almost 6 years since she left for a new apartment. It used to be that it was the end of the weekend, and I would dread beginning the week. A void was left in my heart every other week. 

There were many shifts I went in for in tears, with palpitations.

Eventually, it became clear to me that the schoolweek that followed depended on the weekend before, and after a few months of relentless advocacy, the day to say goodbye became Friday. 

It has evolved from an evening of tears, complete with sobbing to a recurrent disappointment with plans falling through and a bag of potato chips and a bag of licorice.

OUT WITH AN ACHILLE'S HEEL

I have been sitting on my duff for 2 days now, reading the first novel in the Apollo series by Rick Riordan. I am feeling that is ironic to be reading Greek mythology when I hurt my foot running after watching the beautiful race of Eliud Kipchoge in the Men's Olympic marathon. It also feels ironic that my thought was always that Achille's heel was a tendon rupture, but with the familiar lancing pain stemming from the insertion of my plantar fascia, I wonder if this wasn't the Greek hero's heel problem.

Turns out I should have just left well enough alone, and heel step like I had been for the last 6 weeks. None of the runners do that in the Olympics, though, and so I though I should try it out on Monday. By the ten minute mark, I had tried to correct my mistake, but then my ankle didn't seem to get any messages from my foot, and feeling disconnected from my right shin to the ground, I kept up an easy run, starting to shortcut the route, knowing that I still had about 4km left to get home. 

So here I sit, with a pair of crutches my constant companion, and Princess Pirate playing mother with glee. 

At least the ice pack is a relief in this heat wave, but I can feel my muscles atrophying and cardio dropping off, and I am terrified at how long it will be before I can get back it.

So, instead of running, I will write. I will try and get back to running as soon as I can, and not forget what I have done. And I will wear insoles and only run on trails, after I ice my heel as much as possible until I am back at it. 

I will also likely finish the Apollo series, and maybe the Heroes of Olympus, if I have too much time on my hands.

It has been quite a lesson in dependence and gratitude. I am not used to anyone doing anything for me, and I am told that I am bad patient. That being said, Princess Pirate has been very dutiful in taking care of me. She makes me meals, cleans up, carries my crutches, and generally chastises me for trying anything but moving to the couch with crutches. 

She has spent a LOT of time in the kitchen cleaning up, brings me breakfast in bed, composts every day, and revels in making a meal without a recipe. 

She made fresh pesto from the garden basil, and learned that canola oil is not EVOO. She has doctored our drinks with mint and lemon thyme, served me hot beverages, microwaved cheddar apple filled tortillas for a decent quesadilla, and, for the first time ever, boiled water unsupervised to serve us pasta with a side of corn, bean and cheddar salad.

I miss the climbing gym and waterslides and organizing the basement plans that we had this week, but I have seen a responsible side to PP that I didn't know possible, indulged in watching the first sport climbing Olympic event to debut at Tokyo 2020, and started to focus on the writing that was missing in July when I started running. 

My heel has cooled down a lot, so I hope this "sprain" calms down faster than the plantar fasciitis I got when I was in Spain and lasted for 6 months.

In the meantime, I have one more day to be spoiled and cooked for, so I booked us a swim tomorrow afternoon, and will get to bed soon. When breakfast arrives, PP has no qualms about waking me to enjoy it!

LIKE SAND THROUGH AN HOURGLASS, MY THOUGHTS AND MEMORIES PASS BY

Sometimes I have the most brilliant ideas. Mostly I am impressed by the simple brilliant ideas of others, but they inspire me to have brilliant ideas myself. The trouble is that, while they are coming up with these ideas from their memories, I forget mine.

Today, I went for a run and I brought headphones and started my podcast app to distract me from the heat and pain. The speakers were spontaneous, and funny, and brilliant, and some ideas galvanized for me. But as I sit down to try and recreate my thoughts, I am stumped.

I can't even really easily retrace my thoughts, because, in order to keep free data space on my phone, I have the podcasts that I have listened to erased.

I usually end up listening to one of two shows: Planet Money or 99pi. I think that it's funny that my favourite show is about money. It's so far from my focus, but I think I like the logic and math of it. It is also amazing that it talks about most topics in life, and so many shows seems to be spontaneously "lightening in a bottle".

So here is what I remember:

Warren Buffet made a bet for $ 1 million dollars to invest over 10 years, which he won by investing in the first index fund that ever existed: Vanguard in 1976. The index is a great argument for being average. 

This was juxtapositioned with an article about the notion of average ended up leading us to the sizes of S M L clothes. The clincher idea was at some point fighter pilots were making mistakes, and it turned out that the one-size-fits all cockpit fit no one. So that's how we came to adjustable seats that now come standard in our cars. 

Then there was an unusual economist, in that he was also socialist, who explained the problems and the common misconceptions about capitalism. Essentially, the common fear about socialism is that it is confused with the authoritarian models that no one likes. But the idea of socialism was finally put forward in a reasonable way, and the Spanish company of Mondragon (after the name of the town) is a fine example. There are still pay differences, but the highest to lowest paid is within a ratio of 8-9:1 and not the capitalist current rate of 224:1.

There was even the argument made that with capitalism, we have disparities and injustice in our capitalist society, and that the way to even this out is to broaden our use of socialism and have less employees, and more fair employers.

 

COFFEE BETWEEN COVID WAVES THREE AND FOUR

 I finally have a family doctor, thanks to the waiting list anyone can register on to get with the Quebec Health Insurance Plan(RAM), and on my first visit in person to the clinic, the Starbucks had tables open, and I had the time to stop for a cold brew. 

I showed my second wave ordering skills, asking for a cold press, and was politely corrected by the millennial barista that that was a term for olive oil, and not available at Starbucks!

Still, for the edge of a busy parking lot, the greenery and sportcar (and maybe not just a little COVID deprivation) made me feel like I was sitting on Rodeo Drive!

TODAY I WOKE UP AT NOON AFTER A LATE EVENING SHIFT

I…

caught up on my emails and watched Facebook TicToc videos until my screen time limits blocked me, thankfully.

went to the bathroom and got dressed.

petted my kitty, fed her, cleaned her litter, and took her outside.

made and ate breakfast.

booked swimming times at the local pool venture with friends at a local reptile farm.

finished getting ready for a code orange simulation for work.

unwound the kitty’s leash so she could move freely again.

updated my internet bill.

finished off bathroom update following a minor pipe leak.

broke down boxes piling up and updated warranties.

drank lemonade and cleaned up the table and cupboard. 

repacked for this weekend’s camping trip.

did a load of laundry and put away 2 others.

brought the kitty in.

emptied packed recycling bins.

changed the bed linen.

played a round of Wordscapes.

listened to an audiobook about Baye’s theorem and considered its application on medical and teaching practices and how it could help manage uncertainty.

put the kitty outside again.

hung new curtains and an old curtain rod.

fixed the mouldings in my bedroom where I hadn’t put enough finishing nails to eliminate gaps.

put the tools away, and planned for the next cleanup the basement project.

dusted the bedroom, and swept it, the bathroom and the kitchen.

brought the kitty in and fed her.

made tomato kale salad and artichoke kale red onion flatbread.

made chocolate peanut butter energy balls.

turned a cute kitty Kleenex box into a storage solution.

moved the cat tree to the backdoor for an unobstructed view.

watched the first half of a movie borrowed from the library until the blue ray player froze.

video chatted with  Princess Pirate.

installed a new smoke/CO alarm.

saw a last firefly and smiled in admiration of its spirit, even if unrequited.

did the dishes, again.

made this list.

set my alarm.

went to bed.

SNOW GAMES

Princess Pirate in her natural habitat, training dragons and defending against monsters from angry coconuts to hydra

Between the two of us, we almost didn't go out at all. The day had gone fast and the sun was setting.  We were supposed to get some exercise and we both wanted to do it outside. Princess Pirate was ready to go out when I saw that the snow had started to turn to rain and changed my mind. I thought about the options and the outdoors was the best place to do it. If we dressed properly, we'd be fine even with the weather. I sent her out the front to check if the sunset changed the sleet to snow. Now it was her turn to back out, but I started getting out our snow pants and the most rain resistant winter jackets before we could change our mind again.

I had the forethought to save her good parka and hat and a pair of mitts to stay dry for the next day at school. We went out to the local park dragging the toboggan. PP didn't want to sled, but she liked to be pulled around the paths and through the woods. I wished I could run for longer, but whatever I could do was going to be good cardio. 

We did a few rounds, climbed mountains of snow, and fell a lot. It was sticky heavy wet snow, and the walking through it was unpredictable. On moment we fell deep into it, with our boot stuck, leaving us to fall forward so that we could turn around to dig ourself out. I thought that if you could film us and then erase the snow, like the nighttime technology that makes it seems like day, it would be ridiculous looking, with us falling forward and sideways oddly and at random times!  The snow was so thick in the air it was cloudy in the light. 

We were about to leave, and my idea to go sledding was not popular enough to go to the school where the hill was larger. I had her in the sled and I tried to drag her up the tiny hill in the park before we left. Again, PP stated her dislike of sledding, so I tried to slide down but found it too slow to be fun. She had made a body slide in the meantime and told me to check it out. It was pretty good! I brought the sled up for her to try once before we left. She took it down and had a little fun. I came down, thinking I would pull her home but by the time I was at the bottom, she was going back up for another round. This is when the game began. 

Wait for me, I cried, as I reached the bottom of the hill, and as I raced up, she grinned and slid down before I could get to the top! I ran downhill as fast as I can, and she laughed and raced up the other side of the hill. I lunged after the sled, but was too slow, and laughing chased her uphill again fruitlessly. She jumped in the toboggan and laughed gleefully, keeping ahead of me, and taking run after run down the hill in the sled.

By the end we were breathless, laughing, and PP liked sledding again. It felt like a Laurel and Hardy skit! It was the highlight of both our weeks.  

We walked home happy and wet, surprised to see it was 2 hours later and we had forgotten to eat supper!

Another fond memory to remember on the days when it seems like the weather might not be a good enough excuse to go outside.

WEEK TEN IN THE TIME OF COVID

I am having regular zoom meeting with the chicks, whatsapp meetings with the neighbours, and PP has a zoom account and regularly schedules an hour with a friend on the weekend days. Facetime works with my parents, but in all of them, there are delays that are hard to predict, and it's rarely perfect on both sides.
We talk about ped days and long weekends with a distanced nostalgia that seems surreal.
Our neighbours were going for a 15 minute 2m chat with a lawn chair down the street.
The day starts when we wake up. I do not miss the school week starting at 7 am at all.
We have lunch on the back patio every day.
We can hear a robin land before we see it. The birdsong is wonderful, and the trees are full of interesting buds that I never noticed before.
Cali has stopped ducking at the clouds when she is outside, and actually runs up willingly to get her collar on instead of avoiding it.
Covid admissions and ICU admissions are holding stable with cars back on the street. The number of cases never drop, but they aren't increasing either.
The skies are still quiet, with a prop plane being met with as much excitement as on Fantasy Island!
Animal club was a presentation of animal facts, with Brianne presenting on the true Lemming, PP on the extinct Guadaloupe Caracara, and my unicorn, Glitter, presenting on the Eastern Cottontail, a rabbit that lives in our yard!
We went out to chase the sunset, and found jack pines (2 needle bundles), a block long obstacle course in chalk, neighbours garbage picking for bikes, Venus and a few bright stars (?Pollux and Castor), and 3 bats!
School starts back tomorrow online, and PP is excited.
Elementary schools are NOT starting back after all. A friend in Education mentioned that they may need to use the high schools for elementary school kids to have enough space, and high school might be online next year.
Golf and tennis are opening, but the pool opening is still not clear. I am hope for lane swimming a few times a week, but we shall see.
Our street construction is to start tomorrow, and may go on until August.
PP made currant scones today, from turning on the oven to measuring and mixing the ingredients. I only formed the disc and cut the sticky dough into 8ths. She put it in and out of the oven, and they were delicious!
The trilliums are blooming and the beech trees burst open their leaves.
Every one of the tulips were bitten off, but the one (of 3) that pay homage to Herman at least survived to grace my table with a sunny yellow colour.
Mother's Day was my first all alone. I worked, and PP sent me a puzzle she had worked hard at. I had hoped to walk with her in the trilliums the next day, but she is concerned about going back and forth, in case I have COVID. I am grateful she comes every Friday she does, for a full myriad of reasons.
Screening at work was of everyone, since a resident tested positive and worked the days before. I was negative, now my second screen, this time without symptoms. My nasal congestion responds to antihistamines, was present since March 6th on returning home from Idaho, and is getting better.
Two Sikh brothers shaved their beards (one of five sacred tenents of their religion) so that they could be finally fitted for N95 masks. Smoking HCWs are not distancing, and the arrival of free food seems to be received with pre-Covid enthusiasm, even when sharing seems like Russian Roulette.
We planted sprouting onions and potatoes, pepper and apple seed, and are eating chives on everything. Lemon thyme is more decorative than tasty in water, but the mint and oregano are showing promise.
There are ants under every stone we have to turn up, and pansies all along the fence in the back yard.
Our neighbour John has squirrels directly going into his attic through a hole in the back of his house, and he mistakenly believes that the neighbour that helped him get the tree off his roof caused it to fall over. He still seems in relatively good health, and gets his own groceries delivered, but his paranoid delusions and memory are definitely worsening.
Libraries are supposed to be opening next week for books placed on hold. Their advice is not to touch them for 5 days.
British Bakeoff Season Nine is a current favourite.
A Buffalo 1000 piece puzzle with normal pieces and a calico and a tabby cat was completed with pleasure.
A trip to Wales and Greece are on the bucket list.
PP told an amazing version of Percy from Rick Riordan's Greek Heroes book.
A book I have searched for since Grade 3, To Nowhere and back, came and PP dove right in!

WEEK NINE IN THE TIME OF COVID

Signs of spring - birdwatching, geese returning, Forsythia blooming, tulips pushing, ground hog grazing, trout lillies blooming

Snow falling on waking, melted in minutes

11 1/2 hour sleep

Easter candy

Scattegories on video chat with family - used our own list including tough categories (marsupials, tidal pool creatures)- surprisingly easy to think you are doing well while using the wrong letter!

Calico shedding

Dress-up for 12 minutes at school locker cleanout

Google hangout

Math zoom

No homework this week

Cleanup behind cabana with mud work

Gardening

Animal website updates

Animal club meeting at cat rock too cold - indoors

The Great British Bake off

Lions in Trees (sad ending, Disney)

Beowulf A New Retelling (read together, initially with complaint, then begging to continue)

Bathing for an hour - every toy left

Clean up desk and dresser - never-ending pile in a rubbermaid container

A little lego

A lot of Brianne teaching and dresser

Panache homework (mom)

Snowbirds from a distance

Terra Cotta hikes

Front yard chats

Late night bed times (10-10:15)

Eye rolling

Ready for announcement back to school May 18th

Having your 14 year old home without school or homework or pool or playdates or activities: PRICELESS

A LITANY OF GRIEVANCES

I paid for the wedding (helped out by my parents)
He quit his job the week before the wedding.
I paid for the honeymoon. I would come home from work and he would still be in his underwear in bed, watching tv. Okay weird way to honeymoon, but I had already committed to the work.
I paid off his student and car loans.
When we were dating, he took me out for dinner, bought gifts, went to parties. After we were married, he took me out once, bought gifts with my money, and never went to parties again.
He spent hours a day on the computer, blogged occasionally  but never had anything to say.
I would come home from work, and have to cook and clean and shop and manage our finances.
He never encouraged my daughter to bond with me, and discouraged me, preferring to isolate me from their growing intimacy, in my own house.
Our neighbour joked about how lucky he was, as though he chose to stay home. I thought it was a joke, but in retrospect it was totally a choice, and it harmed me and benefited him.
He didn’t work for 11/13 years.
He spent his time absorbed in himself. He loved photo booth. The last holiday we took together as a family had more selfies of him then pictures of us.
If he needed something, he’d drive straight to the store and get it immediately, driving right by the place I had been asking for weeks for something.
I earned less because I was with him. I spent more time, energy and resources on his career than on my own. I put his needs before mine, which he felt entitled to, but he saw my capability as something to take advantage of.
I paid for his going back to school.
I worked.
He made me feel wholly responsible, insecure, and unheard.
He would offer to "help me out", as though the responsibility was not his but that I should be grateful for his contribution. He never created a shared responsibility. He lived as though he had none, despite marriage, despite fatherhood.
He was unreliable.
He would say no by saying yes and then time would pass and the thread would be lost.
He overpromised and underdelivered.
He earned 1/16th (see above-this was not his potential) what I did but left with half.
Both mediators have told me he is entitled to spousal support but neither have called him out on his free ride.
My financial advisors and bank account managers calculated my retirement predictions and took my management fees, but never once mentioned caution in the biggest financial disaster that would decimate my savings worse than any bull market.
I kept the house and all it’s costs, took out out a loan that I can’t seem to pay off and he has a savings account I filled to buy him out.
Every penny of appreciation in my house was lost when I bought him out, and the law calls this fair.
When he puts her in daycare on the weeks he has her, I am mandated to pay the bill, even if he doesn't inform me, even when it is her birthday and I had planned to have her after school.
We have two cats, that my daughter adores, and he never considered taking care of one, so she would always have company.
He never cut her nails, and let big knots grow in the back of her hair until I had her, and I had to cut it out.
The first months my schedule was already set, so I had her half time minus shift days, when he would take her. He was mystifying, crying unfairness over my having her 13 days to his 17!
When I offered for him to talk to a therapist he said no, but when I told him it was over, he couldn’t believe it.
He couldn’t be trusted to pay the bills, incurring late fees, and preferring to leave the budget to me, but when I worked out the split, and was splitting everything in half, he accused me of hoarding money but wouldn’t look over the numbers.
After we first split, he complained that I didn’t let him have the car enough, but he returned it full of dirt after camping, and scratched it on our neighbours car, but never made reparations.
I pay child payments and cut budget costs, and he dates a woman with 2 kids. I don’t think he spends enough on my daugher. I pay her dentist, eyeglasses, school expenses, daycare. He justifies that she lives in his apartment and sees it as her share of the rent.
His parents pick her up from daycare up to 5 days a week because his job goes long, but couldn’t watch her so we could go out on his birthday when I asked.
I bought all the gifts, cooked all the food, paid our way to special events and prioritized his family (mine lives far away), but I was cut off completely when we split.

She adores him, says he’s fun, and can’t wait to talk to him. He can’t pay her bills. How could I not share custody, despite the above?

Since we separated, the things he does validates my decisions.

Today, I am divorced. I have been separated for over four years. I am no longer grieving, and have let most of the anger go. He finally moved all the residual money out of the last shared account (which I advise against having alone, btw), so I have finished paying his way in life for good. I will continue to pay child support to Voldemort until he reaches my salary and Princess Pirate is independent i.e. for a while yet, but my unhappiness is no longer tied to him. A dear friend, also in the process of an inequitable divorce, celebrated with me, as I broke the ugly moldy wedding invitation plate that I hated for 15 years (the spirit and gift was lovely). We opened a Chardonnay Champagne (and lost the cork in her neighbours back yard) and fêted the end of an ordeal, which I needed, after so much loss and regret.



It is done.

ENCOURAGING WORDS FROM OTHERS WHO LOVE ME

You are amazing and lovely.

You have a gift for writing. Your delight in making, displaying and enjoying food is palpable.

Is there life after divorce? The woman I remember was a fun, beautiful, energetic woman. I have
faith in her.

I have a different memory of our time together. You were definitely the teacher. I learned a lot
from you, how to laugh, how to care. I hold my time talking along the trails in Saskatoon, slicing up preserved flesh under your scrutiny, and the early visits with you in Montreal as some of the highlights of my younger life.

You are an amazing person.

PP has a pretty amazing mom.

Thx for a lovely day! Food, presentation, conversations, service and your pretty face all adding up to a great tea time, totally enjoyed it!

You blessed me with your words! You have encouraged me and reminded me of what I treasure most. :)

I also have taken time as I have been waiting to go over the memories we have made together in the last few years. We live apart but the distance is nothing when we connect by text, phone or in person. I have been blessed to have you as a friend through so many years and changes and times of growth we each have had.

Breath by breath be blessed my friend. 💗