We're all criminals at the grocery stores now

This article has me thinking about the recent changes I've seen at my local grocery stores. All items removed from the front entry. Bars and gates installed inside to shuffle us through little openings like cattle. Increased security personnel and equipment. I'd like to see my local stores' actual numbers on shoplifting and whether there truly is an increase that justifies these changes. I think it has more to do with either a perceived problem with no data to back it up, and/or a problem that is happening in other parts of the country and the policies have been rolled out nationwide. My area is relatively small, and while I don't doubt that shoplifting exists, I have a hard time believing that it's bad enough to warrant the changes. What has happened as a result is that I feel like a criminal before even entering the store. They don't trust that the vast majority of their customer base is there to make legit purchases. It leaves me feeling very unwelcome going into Sobeys and Superstore now.

Scared

Another new year, and I begin it truly scared. 

There are at least 2 major wars going on in the world right now, neither with any signs of resolution anytime soon. The people who suffer are, as usual, the innocent by-standers while those who sit in their palaces give the orders. Makes me wish for the days when the king would be on the battlefield.

To the south of me, 2024 is an election year. A voter described the election choices as "...probably the most uniquely horrible choice I’ve had in my life." -- Andrew Collins of Windham, ME. Hyperbole? Yeah. But he nailed the sentiment that I believe a lot of Americans are feeling. To me the choice is very clear: you either want democracy or you don't. What I can say is this: No one is in the booth with you when you vote. If you have told everyone how supportive you are of the Orange Goblin, but get to the booth and just can't do it, then mark your conscience. No one will ever know. Do what's right for the country, not for the guy with the spray tan who will "only be a dictator on Day 1."

In my own country, it's like watching the train coming and no one is moving out of the way. Our choices aren't much better than our neighbors', but that's only a slight temperance given how a lot of politicians are getting the playbooks from what's going on in the US. Poilievre will likely win the next election mostly due to hate for Trudeau. Trudeau won't get his head out of his ass and realize that stepping down from the party leadership is the only way to ensure the Liberals have a chance at winning the next election (thankfully not until 2025). Even the constituents are spouting US/Republican rhetoric up here. A few miles away, a Christian conservative candidate was nominated to run in the next provincial election.

No one with any power, money, or both cares enough about climate change to actually slow it down.

Oh, and hey! There's still a pandemic going on, despite everyone acting like it's been over for ages. WHO downgraded the "global health emergency" status back in May 2023, but the disease's status as a pandemic remains. We're about to hit the end of our 4th year of masking and distancing, well, those of us who still care not to get it: the vulnerable and those who live with them. It's a very stark reality to be faced with the majority of a world that doesn't care if your husband dies. In a general sense, there are 8 billion people, I don't expect them to all care about my husband. But getting the looks he gets for still wearing a mask? I am thankfully oblivious to people giving me looks for still wearing one, and if I did happen to notice, I don't care. I have to continue to mask because no one else is. I have to continue to weigh my options for wanting to get out and be a part of society vs will I catch something that will end up landing my husband in the ER?

I changed jobs in 2023, still trying to figure out where I fit and what I do. That instability isn't helping. I don't regret the change, and I think it was the right move for my career. I just hope things getting a little more stable and clear this year.

In addition to Covid concerns, my husband is not healthy. I feel powerless to make any kind of positive change to help him. Dreams of winning the lotto aren't accompanied by a new house or a sports car. They're of getting him healthcare that can make a real difference in his quality of life.

So, yeah, I'm scared, I'm exhausted, and I don't have much hope that this year will bring joy. However, that thing I hate so much, CHANGE, might come in handy this year. Change is guaranteed. So maybe that's where my hope needs to lie for 2024.

Fun

I'm not as fun as I used to be.

That is a realization I've had for a while. It's not new. It just came back up this week when a friend was talking about how someone she knew wasn't the same person anymore. It reminded me that, in a lot of ways, neither am I.

It's easy to "blame" things that have happened over the years as the cause of my lessened state of being fun. I grew up, I bought a house, I got married. Adult Responsibilities are serious and can't be taken lightly, at least not in my book. My husband is even more introverted than I first realized, which we chuckle about together and I do my own thing when I need. But there's also the desire to want to experience things with him that if he's not interested in doing together, then I just don't bother doing them. Add to that his health issues, which can limit where we go and what we do: he may want to join me for a walk, but he isn't physically capable sometimes.

Covid has really hit me on the head, hard. Even though get-togethers with friends had been fewer and farther between, now that I *can't* have them, I miss them. There are a whole host of considerations I now have to take into account just to invite a bunch of friends over to watch a movie, or go to the theatre, or do anything that is inside. This time of year is especially difficult. I don't like the cold, I don't do many winter activities, so most things I would want to do are inside, and I've been limited now for 3 years. It's getting old. Especially when a lot of the world, and even close friends, have stopped masking and treating Covid like it's over. It's officially still a pandemic, I looked it up yesterday. It feels like the world is moving on without me and similar to social media, everyone else is out there having a ton of fun while I'm stuck at home in my cold basement.

What am I comparing against, and is it a fair comparison? When I look back at doing fun things in my life, pre-Covid and even pre-smartphones, a lot of it hinges on my best friend at the time. There was laughter, dancing, shopping, writing movie reviews. But then she changed. She started a relationship with someone who brought out some bad traits in her. I didn't agree with the choices she was making in treating other people. Smartphones came and she was one of the first people I really felt loved their phone more than their friends standing in front of them. In short, my "partner in crime" was gone. I watched as we went through our lives and our careers, and it seemed like she was still having a ton of fun and didn't have as many Adult Responsibilities, or she was just able to get past the downs and still have a good time. It didn't work that way for me.

In 2015, my depression had gotten so bad that I finally accepted that I needed to talk to my doctor about medication. There was no single cause to my depression; some might call it a mid-life crisis but I feel that's too cliché and not nuanced enough to really describe what happened. Sure, it was the standard realizations that come to most people in their 40s: is this all there is in life? Things probably aren't going to be better than they are now? I'm old enough now that my income will basically be in this range for the rest of my life, so no more significant upward mobility (without huge changes)? I'm not as great as I thought I was? I probably won't accomplish anything great from here on out? 

Then there were the specific issues. The mistakes I made putting my heart & soul into a job, a business, that didn't value me the same way in return. There were no specific broken promises, just a naive view of working hard garnering rewards. I was rewarded with being a manager in name only, having to hire or lay people off without being part of the decision, and then watching as my whole department was outsourced and left with a company that didn't quite know what to do with me after that was done. They wanted me to pivot into a new role, but had no concrete plans for what that role would be. Although I don't think it was conscious or intentional, they drove me to quit and they had the relief of not having to pay severance. I took a very significant pay cut and moved on to another job. I had to put myself back together with the help of my husband, my mother, and, disappointingly, very few friends. Although I learned a lot from that experience, I also have a lot of regrets. Pouring your life and identity into a job, without having a stake in it, was the wrong move. I stayed there too long. I let my depression go too far. I let work become my identity. It then kicked me to the curb and stomped on me. I felt betrayed. This isn't how life was supposed to turn out. I was supposed to work hard, move up the ladder, take on more responsibility, make more money. That's what I'd been told by society and my parents' generation. I'd already failed in becoming a CA and the opportunity to "do anything I want" afterward, so this just added to the pile.

Meanwhile, my ex-best friend is on social media with her cool clothes and her fun job. Yes, I kept in mind that social media only presents what the user wants, which is positive. But in addition to that, when I would still see her in person, she wouldn't give the "real" story then either. If she'd even speak to or look at me. I'm still not quite sure what I did, other than not be a smartphone. Or that I just wasn't fun enough to be around anymore. I was extremely negative and friends were tired of hearing of how bad my job was without me doing something about it. What they didn't realize was that extreme negativity was a warning flare. I was depressed and needed help. Most of them didn't get it and avoided me to avoid the negativity. I was too deep to properly express what was going on and that I needed help. It still irks me when the current focus on mental health comes up, and those friends are posting about how important mental health is. I hope they learned how to identify the warning signs and will react differently in the future. I know it's too much to ask they reflect on the past and how they dropped the ball with me. Ultimately it was my problem, not theirs, and I was fortunate to have support from those who mattered most. But one of my character flaws is holding grudges.

The new job, along with medication, made a huge difference. I was absolutely terrified of the change after almost 15 years at the previous job. But I made new friends, and I had actual fun at work again. Getting support and kudos from co-workers was a foreign, but good, feeling. It lasted for a couple of years, until gov't b.s. and pay rates drove some of my new friends away. I was also no longer my boss' shiny new toy, he had moved on to others, and thus I suddenly wasn't as great as I used to be. But I digress from that tangent.

Covid came. What fun I was having was replaced with fear. This week, I marked 3 years of working full time from home. I have no clear idea when I could go back safely and without masking every day. There are some definite advantages to working from home, and lately it has been more appealing as I don't have to worry about snowstorms or parking even farther away from my office than before due to construction. The sad truth is, even if I did go back full time, the people that made it worthwhile are now either gone from the company or working from home themselves. It was a time that's now lost.

Over the last few months, I've been helping a friend after her brother's sudden death. That has brought up a whole host of sad thoughts on which I won't get into detail. Suffice it to say it hasn't been a happy time, with the exception of reconnecting with my friend and a good feeling of being able to help someone I care about. I am also reminded of more Adult Responsibilities that I've been avoiding but need to be completed, mainly wills.

I think what I've outlined here explains why I'm not as fun as I used to be. It's justified. Life has whipped me into submission to be the Responsible Adult who does her chores and fun has to come later, if there's time. Going back to the question of it being a fair comparison: no, it's not. The world has changed too much for that.

So what do I do about it?

I need help again, this time from myself. Without focusing on others who have changed as being the sole keyholders to fun. I need to, as safely as I can, get back to doing things that make me happy. I definitely need to spend less time scrolling through social media and actually DO some things. If I don't have someone to do them with, then I need to not make that an excuse if it can be done [happily] alone.

I'm not making any commitments here. I have no idea whether life will decide to smite me tomorrow. But just getting this out and written down has helped. Even if I appear totally off-base to someone else, this is my reality.

2021 good things

2021 was a struggle. I tried to document the good things, but from the length of this list, you can see that I struggled to even write them down. I'm hoping for 2022 not that things "get back to normal" but that we can see some tangible improvement. I just want to see some light at the end of the tunnel and know that there will be an end, even if we're not sure exactly when it will come.

This year has brought a lot of bad luck. It seemed like everything was breaking down: my car, the dishwasher, the dryer, parts of the truck... the list goes on. I'm hoping for fewer breakdowns in the new year. There comes a point when it starts to feel personal. What am I doing to cause so much to go wrong? Or maybe it's not my fault at all? I don't know.

On to the good things:

Jan 2: Marley took her first nap on level 4 of the cat tree. Didn't expect it to take that long but John enticed the kitties with strategically placed treats

Feb 18: Finally received my last xmas present, Knits for Kitties

Mar 21: First grilled steak of the season, plus tasty beets

Mar 27: My first Covid vaccine shot

Mar 29: Passed AWS Cloud Practitioner exam with 97%

Apr 2: Return of JCS Night (virtually)

Apr 3: Nice to be back in church for Easter

June 11: We both received our second doses of vaccine

Nov: I don't have skin cancer!

Nov 20: John finally starts his new biologic meds

Dec 11: Functioning new dishwasher

Dec 11: Return of the MacLellan Chainsaw Christmas Tree Hunt

There were other good things that didn't get written down. John finally got someone to pay attention and MRI his knee so he could get a path forward. I was still able to go to Miramichi with my friends and have a vacation. Together we've made a decision on a new vehicle, which we hope to get by April. 

Please, 2022, go easier on me.

Thank you for your service

Three months after we had our civil wedding ceremony, my lease was coming due on my car and I had to decide what to get next. It was 2007, so pre-economic collapse and Pontiac was still an active company. At the time, Dad was still a preferred customer at the dealership so I was treated well, possibly too well: I am sure I drove my salesperson nuts about my requirement for the car to have a comfortable place to rest my right arm. I settled on a 2007 Pontiac Grand Prix, base model but pretty much fully loaded. After having two silver Grand Ams in a row, I wanted a change. I debated a cherry red, but ultimately knew I'd be happy long-term with purple. Glad I decided that, however it mostly looks black and/or dirty, but at least *I* knew it was purple.

I never intended to keep it past the 4 year lease. But when 2011 came up, Pontiac was gone, and the market was devoid of affordable sporty sedans. I just couldn't find anything I liked better, so I decided to buy out the lease. This was my first real experience *owning* a car; the Sunbird that used to be my boyfriend's back in the mid-90s wasn't with me for very long. I was used to leasing, and not dealing with the problems that come with an older car. My inexperience with that has caused John a lot of frustration along the way as he had to explain to me many times that issues are expected and that's why we have a car fund.

You know how you have a piece of clothing that you've owned and worn for so long that over time it molds to you? It feels comfortable and is comforting? That's my car. I sit in it, I know where everything is, it's set up just how I like it, I feel cool, powerful, and in control. Its back doors open 90°, which has come in very handy. It goes fast and corners really well. I enjoy driving it. I know how to drive it in various weather conditions; I know what to expect from it. We know each other well.

My car is leaving later today after having it for 14.5 years. It finally reached the point of being too expensive to repair. It has no heat and most likely caused by head gasket or cylinder. Not worth sinking $2000+ into. It has caused me so much stress and no end of frustration over the past 2 years. My friends are tired of me talking about it and repairing it. Yet with all of that, I'm still very sad to see it go.

I am donating the car and it will be either recycled or auctioned, with the proceeds going to a charity of my choice, in this case, my local soup kitchen. As part of the donation info, I had to document anything that would help them determine what state the car was in and whether it is worth auctioning. In addition to the no heat issue, it has an ongoing problem with the evap system, saying it has a small leak. That causes the engine light to come on, and when that comes on, the remote car starter doesn't work until I clear the engine light warning with an OBD2 reader. It recently developed a habit of enabling the high beams when I made a left turn and the full headlights were on. Not sure how many people I've pissed off by flashing them... sorry, it wasn't intentional. A few years back I rear ended someone and broke the plastic housing around the headlight. 5-6 years later, the temp fix that John did finally stopped working and my headlight started to fall out during a road trip to Miramichi. My friends had to reluctantly tell me there was yet another thing wrong with my car, and then they fixed it up with fishing wire (which worked quite well, actually). For a long time it made a sloshing noise when I went around turns. It may still be making it, but I got to the point of ignoring it. I had the radiator replaced last Dec, headlight replaced this year, as well as rocker panels. Not feeling like I got the greatest return on investment on the more recent repairs. The stupid part is that I tore the driver's side mirror off the car last month. Currently it is duct-taped on. I could try to make excuses for that, but it was just a stupid, bonehead mistake that I made, twice.

For the past 2 weeks, I've made many attempts to sell the winter tires and try to recoup some cash. I didn't want to do it, but our dishwasher broke, and having $300 or so would have helped pay for that. I posted it in every FB group I could, and listed it on Kijiji. I got the usual and expected low-ball offers, people asking questions and seeming interested but then disappearing, guy who eyeballed the size without checking first, and the worst was the guy who was interested and in a hurry, so I took the winters off the car. When I called him back a couple hours later to arrange a time to meet, he had already moved on and bought something else, but assured me that now the tires were off the car, I'd have no trouble selling them. I sarcastically thanked him. They're still not sold, but I wasted $80 and a couple of hours during a workday to deal with it. At this point, I'm leaving the tires in the car in hopes that if it's auctioned, it will get a higher price. Someone, somewhere will get top-of-the-line brand of tires only 30% worn. My gift to you. I don't think I can handle the stress of trying to sell them any longer.

With me still working from home for the foreseeable future due to Covid-19, and John not working right now, having two cars isn't needed and doesn't make sense financially until one of those things changes. So we'll be driving John's truck, which leaks inside when it rains, and try to pull the trigger on one new vehicle. The fortunate part is that we have a one-car garage, and winter is pretty much here, so raining won't be an issue much longer. That will buy us time to wrangle the mess that is the chip shortage and supply chain. Pretty much the worst time to buy a new car as they have nothing to sell.

I know I've been incredibly fortunate to a) have a car, and b) have a two-car household for this long. I think what gets me the most is that this is the first time since the mid-90s that I won't have my own car. I feel like I'm losing a piece of my freedom. I'll be frank: I've never been great at sharing. I will have to get used to checking the calendar, working around appointments that John may need the truck for, and planning ahead. It should be pretty easy given that we can't do much right now due to Covid. But it bugs me that I won't be able to just hop in my car at any given time and go. To crank my awesome-sounding stereo (really great for a factory stereo) when I get angry or need to block everything out of my head. To take corners too fast yet laugh in glee that I can, especially back when I worked for a tire company and had the Eagle RS-As (police pursuit tires.) Good times!

This is yet another situation where I feel let down by my expectations for this portion of my life. I had the idea that by my mid-40s, I'd be "making good money" and so would my spouse, and we could pretty much do anything we wanted. Not owning a yacht kind of money, but the ability to go on shopping trips, renovate the house, and afford to each have our own car. I don't have anyone to blame for my high expectations other than myself. Ultimately I knew that my career trajectory after failing the CA wasn't going to yield as high a return. A university degree doesn't guarantee a well-paying job with consistent and fair raises: I know now that wages have been stagnant since the 80s. But I was young and naïve when I subconsciously set these self-expectations, and despite knowing that I need to reset them, I guess I haven't succeeded at that yet.

What I'm saying is no surprise to anyone, ever: life doesn't turn out how you expect. It may not be the end of the world, but it can be repeatedly disappointing. Oh, wait, I'm supposed to be positive: we still have a vehicle, I am still employed, we have a house in good shape, we're fiscally responsible and debt-free. I can still afford some treats for myself. I am pretty healthy, and John's health is improving. So yes, I have a lot to be thankful and grateful for. 

This is, however, *my* blog and if I want to talk about being disappointed, then I will. My therapist moved away, so this is all I have right now.

About a month or so after I got the car, I took Jenn with me down to Portland to go to David's Bridal. Despite being legally married already, it was important to me to have a church wedding and a chance to buy "the dress". We were successful that day in finding my dress, and upon returning to the car, I offered a toast, but I only had warm orange pop to drink. Jenn thought that was funny and we've kept that memory ever since.

So I'll offer one final toast to my car, with warm orange pop, and thank it for its service.

2020 brought a few good things

At the beginning of the year, I decided to do one of those "write down all the good things that happen this year" tasks as a way to combat negativity. Not sure 2020 was the best year to choose to do that, but I did. Since it's New Year's Eve, I went through the list tonight.

Jan 1: Resurrected dinosaur PJs from pattern that didn't turn out so great

Jan 11: Pad thai with Stephanie, soooo tasty

Jan ?: An in-joke between Melissa and John about poop that I'm not putting on the internet.

Jan 17: Dinner with cousins and then 6th row at Jim Gaffigan!

Jan 25: Watched Duran Duran There's Something You Should Know with Karen & Stephanie. Lots of pics I hadn't seen before and good commentary from the band.

Mar 5: Karen's birthday lunch at Deluxe with Steph. She wore a tiara and we all had clams. Last friend outing before pandemic hit.

May 2: John's Covid test is negative, phew!

May 27: John finally got his MRI

June 5: Replaced the timer on the dryer with minimal help from John. Go Melissa!

Aug 5: Grumpy Cat masks arrived!

Aug 7: Was supposed to be in Sunny Corner but had to postpone. Instead took Jenn with me down to visit T-L at the lake. Beautiful hot afternoon. Homemade chocolate ice cream. Blueberry pie delivered to T-L's dad.

Aug 19-21: After having to postpone, finally got to visit Stephanie in Sunny Corner. Delicious Estey's. Steph found the corningware teapot for her mom while we were antiquing. Karen found a Duran Duran 12" vinyl. I bought Tupperware at the market again (surprise). Did some grave hunting also. No tromping around in the woods b/c Karen was still getting over a concussion. Very windy Cunard takeout at Middle Island.

Aug 21: Found a gravestone in Blackville for a lady in WA state. Her 2x great grandmother. She was really happy to have the picture.

Oct 25: Stephanie brought me still-warm bagels and a purple-cat-Halloween blanket!

Dec 4: John walking without his cane for most of the day, yay!

Dec 4: A bountiful day! Went uptown to pick up metal nose pieces for masks from Kelly. Karen H came by to drop off my dishcloth yarn from our Knit Picks order. While I was uptown, Dre dropped off 4 skeins of yarn for the Hiberknitalong! T-L showed up to pick up dishcloths and gave me a gift of a "F*** 2020" dishcloth and a "Back the f*** away" mask. Loved it!

Dec 7: Passed the Azure Fundamentals certification!

Dec 7: Mindy called and said she'd arranged to have us plowed out this winter so John can focus on healing.

Dec 22: Finally got the Calais stuff I ordered in March!

Dec 23: Surprise homemade challah from Candace!

Cemeteries

I've been spending a lot of time this month in cemeteries, fulfilling photo requests on findagrave.com. If you're ever in a position where you have to choose a headstone and you want it to last, don't opt for a flat, horizontal stone. I've seen so many that have grown over. Those stones don't seem to get as much care as the others and I'm pretty sure some of the stones I've searched for have been swallowed up by nature. It seems incredibly sad to me to place a monument of remembrance for someone, only to have it disappear. Obviously money is an issue: headstones are expensive. But if you are able to stretch the budget, try to go for something upright. Nothing lasts forever, but at least it has a better shot.

I've had lots of trips to cemeteries from a young age. Grammy used to take us for walks through Fernhill and Shaarei Zedek when we were visiting for longer stretches of time. When going up country with Nana, we would always stop at the Astle Cemetery where her parents were buried, to check on the stone and clean around it if needed. Cemeteries were just another place until people close to me died. When Nana died, cemeteries became sad. I've been trying to reverse that feeling by remembering that it's just the physical vessel that is buried; the soul endures.

My recent trips have yielded both happiness and sadness. Sadness for the state of a neglected cemetery with stones falling over and the text wiped away by weather and time. Happiness that I'm able to provide photos for someone who doesn't live near here, and for finding stones that someone cared enough to repair and re-place.

Rest in peace.

You need to keep perspective

Covid-19 is not the end of the world. It seems to mean that we can't have nice things, but in relative terms, we're not bad off. Some have compared these times to war time. I think that's too extreme a comparison. We're not getting our homes bombed out or surviving on rations. A lot of people are safely ensconced in their homes, only leaving when necessary. Other than the initial run on toilet paper, we have enough food and supplies. Granted, the "we" I am referring to are mostly white people. There are others who are afraid of losing their rented homes because they're out of work and can't pay their rent. Or they can't afford food. Or both.

It's so frustrating to see white idiots on TV protesting wearing a mask. Masks are one of the easiest, non-invasive ways to prevent the virus from spreading. Canada is not immune; we have our own section of mask objectors. I'm guessing they are also people who can safely go home and not worry about rent or food at the end of the day. Otherwise they wouldn't be out protesting in the first place.

Things suck right now for pretty much everyone. Nobody is having a good time, and everyone's plans are wrecked. Please just keep in mind that it could be worse, that this will end eventually, and provide help to others when you can.

Sometimes I just go and sit

I'm having one of those phases where I'm sad. Not for any one specific reason, though 2020 is enough all on its own. I'm melancholy. It's the type of time where you know if you could just have a gut-heaving cry, you'd probably feel better afterward. One of the side effects of the meds I am taking is that crying doesn't come as easily as it used to.

Knowing I was already sad, I decided to stop by and sit. Even though you can hear traffic, it's still SJ-level traffic and not that loud. Just the general sounds of a neighborhood around you. But the overall feeling is still one of peace and safety.

The paint on the front doors is peeling. There are pieces of shingles lying on the steps. Two of the stained glass windows have been boarded up, hopefully not because they were broken. I probably would have heard that if it had happened, though; word gets around in the Catholic community. The graveyard and shrine are still being looked after, likely by the school.

You can't go inside, but it wouldn't be the same anyway. The surviving church in our area took out anything of value. The pews were given to a church up north which had burned down but they're rebuilding. The organ found a new home.

From what I can tell, they're letting the rest of it crumble. I haven't heard any news on what they plan to do with it or the grounds, though I was told that the graveyard would be untouched. I'm not sure what I would hate more: watching it crumble, or watching it be demolished.

For now, it's still there, and it's still a place to find some peace when I need it.

Stop. Just stop.

Every so often, someone in my feed posts about St. Peter's. And then all the usual comments show up. 

 

"If people would just go to church, they wouldn't have to close." -- Well, yes, but times are changing. People don't want to go anymore. There's not going to be a miraculous regeneration of people coming to church. Crappy, but fact.

 

"There's nothing sad about another church closing; that's all I will say about that." followed by that person saying more, and the usual pro- and anti-religious retorts.

 

"OMG, the Catholic church is closing?" -- Uh yeah, it was two years ago, where were you when we needed you?

 

I'm still hurting. A lot. The closure was devastating to me. It was like a combination of losing your home and your family at the same time. Every time this comes up, I'm reminded of the loss. It's tiring. Especially when the comments just appear at random and I didn't have time to dodge them.

Immigrants

I honestly don't understand why it is so hard for people to put themselves in immigrants' shoes. Why do people demean, yell, insult, etc. people who have come from, in some cases, absolutely horrible conditions for a chance at a better, calmer, safer life?

Not many people actually *want* to leave their homeland. They also don't want to be bombed out or live in a tent with no water. Many people who come here are escaping something truly awful. With the current political climate in the US, I often wonder why anyone would want to immigrate there. But even as bad as it seems to me, it's still better than where they were coming from.

Maybe it's because I have traveled to other parts of the world, but I can envision at least a tiny portion of what that could be like. If I was forced to move to another country for my safety, I would likely feel defeated pretty quickly. I may not speak the language (not because I don't want to, I just haven't learned it yet and had to flee in a hurry) and that is a huge disadvantage. The customs are different, the rules and laws different. Things I took for granted as "the way things are done" may need to be totally revisited, and the older you are, the harder that is. If I tried to start a business, I may be met with racism, red tape, and many other obstacles. I might be accused of stealing jobs, when all I wanted to do was to be safe and not shot at on a daily basis. I may have a high level of education or valuable specialty, but I can't get a job in my field because my credentials are not recognized.

Every individual who comes here has his/her own story. They had reasons for coming here that are valid and understandable. The key is to look at it as an individual and not as a group: don't look at it as a bunch of Syrians taking up housing and jobs. Look at it as Abbud and his wife & kids escaping a war-torn area. You've talked to him, you know his story, it sounded like an awful place to be, but he immigrated here and is now trying to adjust to a new life. I am hard pressed to think that most Canadians would not be friendly to Abbud if they talked to him and knew him on this level.

We need more compassion. We have a big country with plenty of room to share. There's no need for us to hog it when we can help others escape a bad situation. Remember the Golden Rule: Do unto others and you would have them do unto you.

More of what's bad about social media

[gist of] Original post:  Saw Aquaman, not perfect but liked it a lot.

Reply post: "Saw it in Costa Rica on IMAX. Was good!! :)"

Translation: "I went to Costa Rica over the holidays and want everyone to know it, so I'm commenting here so you can all be jealous that I went somewhere warm!"





Yet another reason why social media can really drag you down. I don't care that somebody went to Costa Rica and I didn't. If I want to, I can save up some money, sacrifice other plans, and go. But why does this person have to make a point of telling us that they saw a movie in IMAX (closest screen to here is 4h away) and in a tropical location? Their reply could just as easily have been "Saw it too. Was good!!" Instead, it was "me me LOOK AT ME!" Ugh.

I'm aware that people post their curated lives on social media. But it gets tiring. One of my favorite posts of 2018 was by a friend who acknowledged that he only posted the good times with his daughter, and told us what had to happen to get some of those happy pictures. Finally! Thanks for being real!

I know nobody wants to hear complaints all the time, but a little realism here or there wouldn't hurt.

Church discontent

Regarding this article.

Why does it take so long and have so much effort put in to help the victims? Even after a hand-delivered letter, it's still an issue? Only now are they finally sending an investigator in to look at Barros, who did not directly commit the crimes but aided & abetted.

My confusion rests in the fact that the Pope seems to not know anything about this instance despite a hand-delivered letter. Do we know if he actually read it? No. He likely receives millions of pieces of communication daily. It's disheartening, though, that his stance was to say no one had come forward when in fact they had. Why not reserve comment until he had a chance to refresh his memory. No one is perfect, but I'm disappointed by this.

It adds to my growing disappointment with the Catholic church. Locally, our bishop and committee have had 6 months to consider feedback and plan to close churches. An announcement was promised for January. We're still waiting, and have no definite date when an announcement will be made.

A specific person in the church hierarchy does not like my church/community. One might describe it as "having a hate on" for my church. I'm afraid that may be clouding the judgement of those making the decision. Despite all of the evidence supporting the fact that we can and should remain open. I've debated writing a letter to the bishop, but am not sure how much of a difference I could make given that some of my information is technically hearsay, though common knowledge.

What I do know is that if it is decided my church will close, then I am not sure what I will choose to do. A global community where we can't recover from scandal, and a local community forced to go elsewhere because someone has a vendetta. I'm not interested in joining a different community. The reason I have stayed with this one for over 25 years is because I like it. I like the building, I like the comfort that comes with familiarity. I'm not interested in making a new emotional investment in another community based on an arbitrary decision to close a building because someone has a stick up his butt. I can talk to Jesus and God from anywhere. I go to this church for more than just that conversation: I go to spend time with my mother, to see friends, to be a lector, and to have that dedicated time to focus on my faith in an environment of comfort. So what if I want it to be in that building and not another? That's my [possibly quite narrow-minded] choice.

The argument, of course, is that church is not a building. No, it's not. But it does house a community of people who actively choose to come from all over the city to this specific church. We're not all going to move together and keep our traditions intact. We're the ones forced to adjust to a new place and adapt to their existing ways. It won't be without struggle, to say the least.

I don't want my church to close, and based on the info we presented to the bishop, we have a very convincing case to stay open. If the decision is to close it anyway, then I won't have much faith left in the leadership. If I don't have faith in the leadership, then going to a different building doesn't solve anything. In a time where attendance is dwindling rapidly, they can't really afford to make a decision like this and piss people off to the point of quitting. And that seems to be the direction I'm heading.

Thanks, Emma

At risk of turning this blog into all about mourning Romy, I make another post about him.

Christmas was hard. There were a lot of Romy associations that went with xmas: how much he loved sleeping under the tree. How much he loved to drink out of the watering can. After xmas, it seemed to be a bit better. Then, last night, it hit me again.

Not sure if it was a recent discussion about cancer, but I couldn't fall asleep last night without thinking of him. I was listening to some background noise of crackling fire, which reminded me of how he liked to lay in front of the wood stove, pointing his white belly at the heat source.

Usually I focus on fearing death, and trying to avoid thinking about it as much as possible. But the thought occurred to me last night that I will get to see Romy again in Heaven. Will he be waiting for me? Will it be like Narnia, where Aslan returns and everyone is so happy? Will we be able to communicate in the same language in Heaven? Maybe this Heaven thing is something to look forward to. An odd statement from someone who goes to church every week, but true.

From there, my thoughts devolved into remembering his last day/hours. Then I just got incredibly sad and tried to get my mind off of it.

Woke up this morning, and was still sad. Came out of the bathroom downstairs, and who do I see sitting on the lounger but Emma with her paws tucked under. She readily accepted my petting and purred loudly. Thanks, Emma, for helping lift my spirits by reminding me of some Romy-isms and also that I need to also put some love into you, too.

As I typed that, Emma showed up at my side and I gave her some head pets.

Not any easier

Leave Zumba, stop for gas. Get back in car. Think about Romy and his final moments on Earth. Silently cry my way home from gas station.

Think about how I need to get my suitcase out for my trip. How there will be no Romy to appreciate the pink bag being back out again because now he can sleep on it.

This isn't getting any easier. It's just not at the front of my mind 24/7. It's still a very tender wound.

I just want my cat back.

How do I know he didn't get to Heaven and say, WTF? This is why they took me to the vet?

Is it really more dignified to not let someone suffer? Everyone I talk to seems to think so. But are we messing with God's plan? What if I get to Heaven and I'm judged as being responsible for my cat's death? That I chose to end it before it was supposed to happen naturally? That I stuck my nose in where it didn't belong. Is it mercy or meddling?

It's been a month as of today. 4 weeks still feels like forever.

I love my cat. I miss my cat. I just want my cat back.

Not necessarily related thoughts

I wish there was a Facebook feed to filter out anything to do with "Christmas" until a certain date of your choosing.

I wonder how much money people would pay for FB filters that would limit food posts, bad language, babies, cats, Christmas, or anything to do with people you don't like but are afraid to block.

Why am I so useless in the evenings after work? It's not like I have a stressful job. In fact, I had a pretty decent day today. But after getting home, as much as I wanted to work on the new sweater I started, it just didn't happen. Now it's bedtime.

I miss my Romy. Two weeks feels like forever since he's been here. I was so proud of him. Everyone would comment on how big he was, and I was proud to have this big lovable cat. One of the things I forgot to mention in my Romy post was how he used to stick his tongue in & out while he scratched his head with his back leg. It was a very uniquely Romy thing to do. John said he'd never seen another cat do that.

For as much as I am supposed to believe in the afterlife, given my religion, death still seems like a loss to me. I guess that makes me selfish? I'm too focused on my loss rather than the lack of pain and suffering of the person/animal who has passed on? They're in heaven, I should be happy. I am happy. But I'd rather have Nana & Gug still here to visit. Grammy & Grampy in their kitchen watching General Hospital. Romy here doing Romy things.

The one person I seem to feel differently about is my Aunt Gail. I miss her, especially right now when I would love to have her advice on dealing with a pet's passing. Though we didn't practice religion in the same way, I always feel that her faith was so strong that she is happy up in heaven and where she belongs. I don't have the anger, frustration, and disappointment about losing her compared to others. I believe she was taken too soon, but I feel deep down that she's in a great place.

So does that mean I think the others aren't in a great place? Or weren't as strong in their faith? No. Is it because my aunt wasn't a daily part of my life like the others? Maybe. Do I feel an odd sense of guilt about all this? Yes.

I suppose this happens to everyone. The older you get, the more death you have to deal with. I also assume it doesn't get any easier.

Romy

John had cats for most of his life. After moving here and spending a year cat-less, he declared that we were getting a cat. I had no idea what I was in for. I’d never had a pet before, and wasn’t all that comfortable around friends’ pets. I did have some comfort with Caly, John’s last cat in SoCal, but she was very much John’s cat. I actually got quite upset about the prospect: what if it didn’t work out? What if the cat destroyed everything I own? Will there be cat hair everywhere and will I go crazy trying to clean it? What if the cat doesn’t like me? This was a big commitment, and I knew the cat would be with us as long as it lived. I knew I couldn’t give it away if/when times were tough.

John is very much a cat person: all cats like him. The goal was to try and find a cat that liked me, too. Or at the very least, tolerated me. We visited the SPCA and also the Pet Corral (local pet store near our house) which featured SPCA cats for adoption. The Pet Corral keeps their cats in a glass enclosure, so there is no place to interact. You have to request the cat be brought out, and then hold him. You can’t put him down on the ground because he’d just wander around smelling everything. It wasn’t an ideal way to try and see if you could bond with a cat. That added to my reticence.

On the top left corner of the glassed-in enclosure, on a short cat tree with a half-circle carpeted top, sat a big gray tabby who, on the couple of times we visited him, was usually sleeping. He seemed pretty chill and was an adult – starting me out with a kitten wasn’t a great idea. We visited him approximately 3 times before making the decision. His paperwork, which was disorganized and possibly wrong, said he was a surrender from a family who moved and couldn’t keep him. His name was QQ and he was approximately 2 years old. He never seemed to respond to that name, though.

It was the Victoria Day weekend in May, and we filled out the adoption paperwork. We were accepted and made arrangements to pick him up on the holiday. Since the store owners had to come in and check on the animals, they said we might as well come in and get him that day.  We took him home, and put him in the basement with some food and water. He seemed pretty calm, walked around and sniffed at everything, and relaxed. We thought we might need to leave him in the basement to get adjusted for a few days, but we ended up bringing him upstairs within a few hours. It was as though he deemed this place to be good for his needs, and got busy doing cat things like smelling and sleeping.

We didn’t like his name, and since he didn’t respond to it, we knew we wanted to rename him. We had a hard time picking one out, to the point where he was almost just called “cat”. John had a dream one night where he thought of the name Rome, which we changed to Romy to give that “ee” sound that cats often respond to. The cat seemed to be ok with this name, and it stuck.

Romy came with an eye infection, so we took him to the vet to get checked. For the first few days of his tenure, he had one eye mostly closed; thus his “Pirate Romy” nickname at the time. The vet told us that he was a big cat, and expected his normal weight to be around 18-20lbs. Romy loved his food, and usually wound up being 21lbs. We started measuring things according to how many Romys it weighed.

Romy's first picture. He was generally ok with being here, but needed some time to chill by himself.

I wasn’t used to seeing something low to the ground running by. The only thing I had experience with were mice, so in the beginning, Romy’s walking by reminded me of mice and I jumped. It didn’t take long, though, before I got used to his travels around the house. Romy felt pretty comfortable here too, and it only took a week before we got a picture of him showing us his belly in trust that we were ok.

Romy's awesome belly

Romy integrated and entwined into every aspect of our family life. He gave us an occasional head nod that seemed to indicate "hey," which John and I co-opted when communicating with each other. He would often chomp his mouth a couple of times in a row as though he were mimicking talking, and sometimes I would do that back to him. Romy became the focus of my singing around the house, with such mangled hits as:

• If I Had A Romy (If I Had A Hammer)
• His name is Romy and he dances on the sand (Rio)
• I heard a Romy, they say he's got a clinky tag (I Heard A Rumor)
• Got your belly (Rock Me Amadeus)
• Romy Romy Romy Romy... Romy (For The Love Of Money)
• There once was a cat named Romy, and he was so cute (I think I based it on some tune rolling around in my subconscious)

Romy had a lot of favorite things. I don't have a picture of it, but he would always sit on his lounger by the stair rail. Whenever anyone went up or down the stairs, he'd meow at you to pay a petting toll as you passed. He also loved it when we pretended our hands were spiders, and they would crawl along the bed or couch and catch Romy's attention.

His lounger. It was like a human's favorite recliner. No matter what, he would always come back to his lounger.

Pillows. he was a big proponent of pillows.

Relaxing with his favorite male human

Sleeping in what humans would think are uncomfortable areas, especially when his cat bed and lounger were a few feet away.

Boxes, of course

Sitting on plastic bins. The only purpose of plastic bins was for Romy's lounging needs.

Playing trackball

Sleeping on office chairs

Red foxes fascinated him. We would watch this xmas special every year, even though his interest wasn't the same as this first time, he still liked foxes.

"Hiding" behind the shower curtain

Romy found laundry, clean or dirty, to be one of life's great joys.

My pants

My smelly laundry

My clean laundry. He especially liked the white sock load, likely because he had an affinity for Bounce fabric softener.

He really liked it when I left a hamper of clean laundry on the floor. I know where I'm sleeping tonight!

One day he even taught John a lesson about leaving drawers open.

Romy had a huge love of bags. Grocery bags, tote bags, laptop bags, suitcases, my workout clothes bag, you name it, he wanted to sit on or in them.

When friends came over, he was usually interested in their shoes and/or purses. When he could, he'd stuff his whole head into strangers' shoes.

Christmas meant the return of two great things: sitting under the tree, and the best water from the watering can.

Romy's daily routine, other than sleeping, started with waking me up if I wasn't already up. He'd usually wait at the top of the stairs for me to come up from my shower. Sometimes he'd wait downstairs for me to come down and go on the treadmill so I would pet him before I started. Then it was his post-shower petting routine. Without fail, whenever either human took a shower, they must immediately return to the bedroom to give Romy his brushing. Romy loved brushing. He was a big cat and couldn't reach his crotch/butt, so we often ended up with crotch cleaning duty. But you could brush him for ages and he would happily purr away.

Romy did occasional duty as a speed bump

I've never seen, and may never again see, anyone as comfortable as Romy when he slept. Comfort you can only dream of.

Since I was always the first human awake in the morning, I was generally the provider of food. Whether Romy was hungry or not, when food was poured, he had to check it out. Any time I brought the water dish over to the sink to clean it, he suddenly was extremely thirsty and would I please hurry up already. I also was the morning cleaner of the litterbox, which he appreciated and then proceeded to destroy by flinging the litter as far over the floor as he could. He made an absolute mess sometimes, but I still loved him.

Romy turned 10 this year. Around September, John asked me when I'd last seen Romy eat. I couldn't remember, but he thought it had been a few days. We knew immediately that was not good. We took him to the vet, had bloodwork and x-rays done. At first it was suspected urinary infection, then possibly pancreatitis. He continued to not get better on various treatments. We went through at least a dozen types of wet food trying to get him to eat anything. He lost a lot of weight, and was down to 15lbs. He spent 3 nights hospitalized trying to get his hydration back under control. An ultrasound showed that he had irregular shapes on his liver, suggesting a tumor. It also showed a lot of fluid, when when drawn out of his belly, was red. He was bleeding internally. Without exploratory surgery, which might in itself kill him, we knew he didn't have much time.

We spent the last few weeks giving him as much love and comfort as possible. I had mild success getting him to eat some out of my hand. He also would drink some from the tap in the kitchen. We had an IV of fluids to give him when needed. By yesterday morning, though, his nose was visibly shrunken and it sounded like he was having a hard time breathing. When he opened his mouth, it smelled like rot inside. We had friends over on Fri night to talk things through. When I listed to what we were saying and pretending to be a bystander, I could tell it sounded like it was time to let him go. He wasn't moving around much, he wasn't eating or drinking enough, he wasn't lounging, he couldn't jump up, his back legs weren't always working. He wasn't his Romy self. John didn't want to see him suffer, and by yesterday morning, he said he thought it was time. Had it been only up to me, I probably would have prolonged it for my own selfish reasons, and not for what was best for Romy.

I gave all of my heart and soul to this cat. This wonderful cat, who did so many incredible things for me. He was so patient, so tolerant of someone who had never had a pet. He didn't get into trouble, he was very chill and relaxed, and loved his house. There may be other cats, but there will never be another Romy. My heart is absolutely trashed. I'm horrible at losing people in my life, and this is no different. In some ways, it's worse. He was one of my best friends. Someone who gave me unconditional love every day. I have memories and pictures, but they don't compare to having that purring ball of fur to wrap my arms around, only to have him escape because enough hugs already, geez. I keep trying to find the right words to convey how I felt about him, but none of them do him justice. 

Romy's legacy is that he taught me to love cats. He's the cat who taught me how awesome having a cat in my life can be. We went on to adopt Sapphire 3 years after we got Romy. They weren't that close, but were ok sharing a house together and playing (though Romy's version of playing was sitting on Saph's head). There will likely be other cats in my future. Those cats all have Romy to thank for opening my heart and my home.

This experience has brought me so much joy and so much pain. Right now, it's hard to imagine I will ever feel this deeply about another cat. I can feel the wall going up around my heart to protect me from this deep pain in the future. The right cat can probably knock it down. But for now, I want to take my time to miss my great friend. I still feel like he's around the house somewhere. I expect to see him on his lounger, on the back of the couch, randomly lying on the floor. For as much as I was surprised at the beginning to see something moving along the floor, I am now surprised that he's not there.

God, please help me through this.

Elda cardigan update

I began the cardigan on Aug 1. A month later, I only have the Estonian Braid to finish along the neck & body line. I did spend two of the 4 weeks on vacation, so that was when I was able to get the bulk of the work done.

I made some mistakes, there are some holes that need to be fixed, but overall I am very happy that I pushed myself to do it. It was not as hard as I thought, and with how cold it turned outside today, I will be able to wear it as soon as I'm finished.

Aug 11: body completed

Sep 1: Arms completed

Striped Nightgown

While waiting for the parts of the other projects to come together, I headed over to Fabricville to find some cheap practice fabric. In addition to the practice skirt material, I found some cotton knit to use for a nightgown. I bought the pattern on sale at Fabricville at the start of my vacation. Finally: a project I could start.

This was labeled "very easy" so I figured it would be a good way to get back onto the horse. I sewed last in November when my MIL was here to help. This time I knew I'd be a bit slower, and wanted to take time to look things up as I went to help increase my knowledge. It was also nice to sew without a deadline. Usually my MIL is here for a limited time, and we have to steamroll through. I did this project in my spare time during July, finishing tonight. The bedroom downstairs is pretty much my sewing room at the moment, so I was able to leave things out in the open while I had to go off and do other things.

Project Central

I'm sure I'm not the first person to think of this, but I remembered I had an extra bulletin board lying around, which takes pins as well as magnets. I stuck that up on the wall and it kept the sewing instructions in a dedicated location. John put down some extra foam tiles for me so I had a bit more support while working.

I inherited some sewing supplies from my grandmother, including some supplies that I hadn't used before but the pattern called for. Seam Binding was one of those things. I did a lot of Googling during this project! Since it was late and the seam binding wasn't going to be visible, I used what Nana had even though it didn't match. Thankfully I didn't have to stop the project at this point for more materials.

Seam Binding

I had done a zigzag stitch at least once before on my machine, but I took some time to test the settings and get a feel for how it worked with the material. Though the pattern itself *was* easy, the stretchy knit material needed for PJs is not much fun to work with. I'm quite happy with my first major zigzag attempt, and got closer to the seam the more I did it, as I felt it looked better that way. Really made me want a serger, though.

Zigzag seams

Having used bias tape on the aprons I made with MIL, I figured this would be a much easier (and neater) way to finish the neckline than the small hem I made for the arm holes and bottom. So back to the store I went for some complimentary bias tape. I had some blue tape on hand, but this being visible, I wanted to be slightly more picky. So much for not caring as much about a practice piece!

Bias tape neckline

I'm very happy with the job I did on the neck sewing. Less happy with the arm and bottom hems. On my next attempt, I might use the bias tape in all 3 places.

I finished the nightgown tonight, yay! After being gun-shy on the size of the skirt pattern, I went with Medium on this pattern. It actually ended up being a little too large for me, and I pre-shrunk the material. But as a practice item, I think I did a very good job, and the next one will definitely be easier. I will likely switch to a Small for that one.

Finished Striped Nightgown

The only down side to this nightgown is that it's long-sleeved and thicker material, so it will be a while before it is cold enough to wear it. But probably not as long as I think.

Project status update

Status update on the previous post: When I began to work on the skirt, I realized that I had not measured myself beforehand. What is listed on the package as dress sizes were so totally off what I am buying in the store that I ended up with the wrong package. I thought size 6-14 would be plenty of range for me to fit into. Turns out that according to this pattern, I am a 20. For someone who buys size 4 and 6 off the rack, this feels more than a little disheartening. I still want to make this skirt, so I said a big "FU" to the fashion industry, and found the same pattern on sale online in the larger set of sizes. Just picked the pattern and the yarn up this past weekend. Haven't had time to start them yet because I was just about finished my "while I'm waiting" project (see next post).

Following the suggestion of my MIL, I went to the fabric store and bought some inexpensive fabric to use for a practice skirt before I tackle it with the material I love. I actually quite like this material too. Thinking it might need some trim somewhere to break up the solid color? Not sure yet. This fabric was in the "fashion sample" rack for $3.75/m at Fabricville. It's thicker than the other material, and won't need a lining.

Practice skirt fabric