RIP House Widow


On a trip to the laundry room several years ago I discovered a black widow spider. As the only family member licensed to dispatch spiders, her demise was automatic and swift. My husband protected us from snakes, spiders were my responsibility. A practical, unspoken arrangement acted upon without hesitation, quelling arachnid hysteria never bothered me. If a snake ever hissed in the house my husband would do the same. I forgave the one and only house snake in our 35 years, the garter snake he and the kids brought home in a bucket, the one they named Mrs. Slithers when she gave birth to 11 babies the following day, but that’s another story.

Soon after finding laundry room widow, many more disturbed domestic harmony. Upstairs, downstairs, bathroom, kitchen, bedrooms – black widows were becoming a problem. Some had to be executed, but only as a last resort when catch and release failed. Along the way a peculiar affinity developed for well mannered widows. Rogue spiders couldn’t be allowed to roam at will, homesteaders were another matter.

For a while “No, of course I don’t want a black widow bite”, “Yes, I’ll do something about basement widow” sandbagged rising dismay. Relax! Spiders are my job, the situation is under control!

My son broke the news. “You were sleeping…” “We saw an egg sack…” “Sprayed it with Raid…” “Got the vacuum out…” I heard myself say, you killed my spider? Then wished I could take it back because it sounded so crazy. “We can get you a pet spider” he offered with genuine sympathy. “It’s ok, I don’t want a pet spider” was spoken, “I liked that spider” wasn’t.

I couldn’t explain without sounding unbalanced, wouldn’t expect them to understand mild obsession with observing the same spider for almost 2 years. Their spiders are my snakes, I get it. RIP basement widow.

 

2.1 False Claims A Day And Counting


Toronto Star reporter Daniel Dale’s pursuit of Trump falsehoods began innocently enough. Last September, around the time Trump called Elizabeth Warren “Pocahontas” , Daniel wrote a column on weird/false wannabe president Trump Tweets. Popularity of the piece prompted his editor to suggest it become a regular feature. Eight days later filmmaker Michael Moore tweeted – “this Canadian journalist, every single day in the Toronto Star, lists all the lies that Donald Trump spoke that day. Shames the US media.” Thus began Dale’s diligent scrutiny.

Being a well mannered Canadian Daniel stopped short of calling Trump froth lies. Benefit of the doubt took ignorance into consideration, choosing instead “false claims”. Today the Star published all fact checked “false claims” since Trump’s inauguration on January 20, 2017. Ponder 337 and counting, an average of 2.1 false claims a day.
Linked below – all false Trump claims since inauguration including a searchable data base by topic.

https://www.thestar.com/news/world/2017/06/26/donald-trump-has-said-100s-of-false-things-heres-all-of-them.html

 

Glow In The Dark Toonie


Never let it be said Canadian currency isn’t colourful. Now one of our coins glows in the dark. In celebration of Canada’s 150th anniversary of confederation, the Canadian mint has issued 3 million glowing Canada 150 toonies. The two dollar coin, selected from a national Canada 150 contest was designed by brothers Timothy and Stephen Hsia of Richmond B.C. Dubbed Dance of the Spirits, northern lights promise to glow in your pocket.

Haven’t seen one yet, but when I do you’ll be the first to know if a coin can actually glow in dark corners.

Notes Can Be Broken


Age is a state of mind, or so I thought until 57 years kicked me in the ass this week. Work has always been physical, I credit on the job activity with keeping me healthy, it never occurred to me I could be broken.

The enormity of off site catering is difficult to explain. We can’t run to a shelf for equipment, everything we need is loaded into a truck, loaded out when we’re done. On arrival rented tables, chairs, glassware, ice, plates, cutlery and ovens wait for distribution. Roll out tables, set them and place chairs. Build bars, kitchen and buffets. Four hours of hard labour under our belts before the first guest arrives if we’re lucky, a frenzied hour and a half if we’re in deep shit. We build, adapt and improvise spectacular parties without complaint. Guests remember the meal and libations, nobody cares about logistics.

Funny thing is, my job is to ensure guests don’t care about logistics. I’m a Swiss Army Knife – sturdy, reliable, a tool for any situation. My strokes come from putting clients at ease and comradely moments when staff exhale silent acknowledgement of our work ethic. Before today thoughts of reaching physical limits capable of breaking me down were inconceivable.Now I face a sobering truth, Notes can be broken.

Seven day chronology of a shattered Notes – Last Friday was day one, a 300 person plated dinner under a tent on a sports field. Day two ran sixteen and a half hours, 265 guests on a rural estate for a quarter of a million dollar wedding. Fitbit equipped staff recorded walking over 25 kilometers back and forth from kitchen to party tents.At least the valets got golf carts, my staff operated on stoic determination.I don’t remember driving home at 5 am but won’t soon forget catatonic day 3 unable to get out of bed. Day four demanded 13 hours, the first 8 humping lunch deliveries all over town followed by a 250 guest reception. Day five’s plated dinner came with stairs, mere mortals might cry, we laughed at the irony. Yesterday was day six, 700 guests at an animation studio. 12 themed food stations spread over 4 floors. Routine day seven dawned without adrenaline, driving to work I wondered what was wrong with me. Denial stalled inevitable until a few hours ago when processing realities of the next two days off erupted in spontaneous tears.

Solace kindly reminded me how many staff half my age were broken this week. Thank you solace, point taken. Come Monday morning glue on  shattered edges will dry. My job is like childbirth – forget the pain and look forward to doing it again.

 

Libtard


Climate deniers who call me “Ecoclown” or Nutstoponder” roll off my back, but when snide conservative lips robotically hurl Libtard contempt in place of independent thought I see red. Those who smirk Libtard do so with self satisfied impervious ignorance. It basks in a right wing embrace, uttered with reckless glee any time whiffs of social conscience wrinkle a righteous nose. Libtard is neither amusing or clever, it proves nothing but the disparaging depth of a callow existence.

The Online Slang Dictionary declares it a noun defined as – “a person with liberal political beliefs. Pejorative. From “liberal” + “retard”. Urban Dictionary elaborates with – “Libtard n. Portmanteu of “liberal” and “retard”. Someone who, intoxicated by being knowlegable and right about politics and economics, forgets that they need to get actual real ordinary people to support them if their agenda is to be advanced. Often but not always rich, well meaning and with good insight to society’s problems, but naive about the mechanics of politics and utterly ignorant about how power actually works.”

Call me a communist, blither Biblical condemnation of atheist morality, quiver in fear of Islam, frack away, encourage resource corporations to foul fresh water, buy more guns, disregard poverty and civil rights, drink Trump Kool-Aid , but how you dare call anyone a Libtard.

Ponder The Mindset Of Trump’s America


News broke today of Mueller officially investigating Donald Trump for criminal obstruction. Being a busy day I didn’t give it much thought until home from work found this comment waiting on my laptop. A unrelated response to an old post in which I pondered what exactly Trump meant by “Make America Great Again”. A comment reminding me Trump supporters are immovable objects impervious to truth, reason or common sense. A comment driving home the fact Trump’s America doesn’t care about obstruction of justice.

What follows was written yesterday. Penned with determination and sincerity indifferent to realities of Trumpish corruption. This is Trump’s America, minds set in righteous monoliths of delusion hewn by opportunistic media manipulation of reality. Read on for an ominous lesson in the power of propaganda and fear –

“I thought “great’ referred to our standing in the eyes of the world. We used be #1 and under obama we were down to #3 or #5. Our schools used to be near the top with several other countries and then we were closer to the bottom. None of this happened quickly, and not just one party is responsible. Obama hurt America faster than the others. I read some of his book and he said that America did not deserve it’s place as Top Dog [my words, not direct quote from the book.] Why not? Should it be a communist nation where freedom is not allowed? Trump wants to get rid of the laws that bog down business growth. How’s that bad? He wants to let us keep our freedom to worship who we want. Obama wanted to take that away and have everyone worship Allah. Obama wanted to change or get rid of our Constitution. That is a unique document that has worked well for generations. Yes times change, but the Constitution remains the same and needs no changes.”