What I got so far

I've decided I'm gonna be a starving artist when I grow up.

Well, I don't really want to starve, I would love to have someone bring me occasional meals and top up my wine glass regularly. But you know what I mean...

For someone who tends toward the creative side, I don't have a lot of imagination. I have to see something before I can paint it. Thus, I spend quite a bit of time googling ideas for my new hand painted watercolour card making venture.

I've gathered quite a few ideas. Okay quite a few dozen. But I haven't painted nearly that many. Yet. But here's a sampling of what I've done so far:

Sidetracked

I went into work for a couple of hours this morning. My boss hasn't said anything to me but apparently she complains regularly that she should never have agreed to lay me off for a couple of months. I, on the other hand, am loving it! Although my Visa would really appreciate my EI cheques to start flowing in. Stupid Revenue Canada.


I received a notice within days of initiating a claim giving me my online access code and reminding me to submit my ROE (Record Of Employment) I've been regularly logging in online to submit my weekly reports. Each time, the website reminds me to submit a copy of my ROE. However, at no time have they instructed me "where" to submit my ROE. I have spent hours - and yes, I mean HOURS at the Service Canada website, Googling and on the phone pressing 1 for english etc and NOWHERE is this information available.
(If you can find this info and publish it in the comments I will give you a dollar!)
Then the other day I got another letter stating that I must submit a paper version of my roe IMMEDIATELY! Then it goes on to tell me how to submit an electronic weekly report (I've been doing them for 5 weeks) It gives me a phone number to call to get information on my payments. (Which they will not start until I submit an ROE) It gives me a webpage to enroll in Direct Deposit. (Which I already have done) Not one teeny tiny mention of how the heck to submit an ROE - the sole purpose of the letter.
Finally, I drove downtown and found a Service Canada building, freaked out (in the nicest possible way) on the receptionist, waved my ROE in her face, along with their information-less letter, and kindly asked what I was supposed to do with it.

"Oh, it doesn't go here. But I will take it and forward it on." Still NO mention of where "on" was. But truthfully, she was super friendly and actually guided me to a suggestion box and gave me a pen to fill out a card. Bless her heart.
The card didn't have nearly enough writing space, however I think possibly they got the gist if what I meant. Now gimme my money.

***
Funny how blogging goes. I totally did NOT sit down to whine about Revenue Canada. I wanted to tell you how I was loving being off work and that I'm taking my regular painting classes on Tuesdays, and tomorrow I'm taking an all day watercolour seminar, and that I made scads of greeting cards as part of a little "pay it forward" homemade craft group I commited to on Facebook. And how I wanted to know if I made a bunch more, would people actually pay me for them -with money going towards Relay for Life. But alas I got sidetracked ranting on like a lunatic. Sorry.

Still a weirdo...

The marathon is over.

I really hadn't intended it, but I simply forgot. Sorry.

And you know this is just "the thin edge of the wedge" or the first step on the "slippery slope" of blogging sporadica. (Yeah, I made that word up. But I like it and I'm sure it'll become a permanent part of my vocabulary)

FFF - Flash Fiction Friday

As soon as she awoke, she glanced out the window to see if the weatherman’s predictions had been correct. “Why? Why today of all days does he have to be right?” she wondered when her sleep deprived eyes focussed on the rain pelting down sideways, carried by driving winds.


“Oh well,” she brushed off her disappointment and jumped out of bed resolved to have the best day of her life. As she passed her wedding gown hanging from a hook near the ceiling, she couldn’t help but reach out and caress it. Oh how she’d longed for this day.

She’d always dismissed the stories of other brides-to-be telling how the dress picked them. How slipping it on just felt right. How tears flowed when they caught a glimpse of themselves in the mirror. Until it was her turn.

The dress didn’t particularly catch her eye, but the gallery attendant insisted she try it on. It was as if it held magical powers. She felt transformed. Beautiful. Loved. Invincible. It was the one. Just as she knew Trent was the one.

She and her two best friends had a full morning ahead of them: breakfast, hair appointments, facials and make-up, then back to the house to slip into her magical dress before heading off to the church to marry her prince.

She refused to have her spirit dampened, even when the wind flipped their umbrellas inside out and the rain played havoc with their coifed tresses. She was marrying the man of her dreams and nothing could prevent this from being the best day of her life.

The limo pulled up in front of the old stone church. “This is it!” she squeezed her maid of honour’s hand and giggled like a school girl as they climbed out of the car.

The driver and her dad held umbrellas for her as she side-stepped around a puddle at the bottom of the stairs leading into the church. She forgot how much fabric was bunched up behind her as she held her dress up around her knees, showing off her floral rubber boots.

Rrrrrip. The beautiful dress caught on the handrail and tore a six inch corner tear. She wanted to cry. But again, the transforming powers of the dress helped her to hold her head high. “At least it’s in the back,” she consoled herself and forged ahead. Her groom awaited her.

She expected to hear music and see all the mini lights twinkling when she entered the church. There was darkness and silence. She immediately realized the power was out.

There was a bit of mad scrambling and the wedding started a half hour late, but she walked down the aisle in candlelight to her sister’s beautiful acappella voice singing I Can’t Help Falling in Love with You. It was a tender and magical moment.

The planned garden photo shoot was out of the question. Disappointing, yes. Devastating, no. For she was beautiful, loved, invincible. Though not at all the wedding she dreamed of, it was memorable for sure.

Ten years later, she pulled the torn dress from her closet and put it on. It still fit - she gave a little prayer of thanks. They would celebrate their tenth anniversary by renewing their vows in the old stone church and finally getting their garden wedding pictures taken.

She looked in the mirror. Tears streamed down her face. She felt beautiful. Loved. Invincible.

***
The writing prompt was "Ten years later she pulled the torn dress from her closet"

That'll teach ya

So tell me, how many phone calls or texts have you gotten from Jed this week? (Or that unknown number ending in 6244?)

When Kerri got back from Texas a couple of months ago, her iPhone wouldn't work in Canada so I lent her my old cellphone until she could get a new one. She returned it last week - with a large credit on it, which expires sometime in the middle of February.

I thought, "What a great opportunity to see how Jed would handle having his own phone."

Everyone else thought, "Damn!"

I glanced out the window this afternoon and saw a loader coming down the street. Weird. Sometimes they follow a grader, but this is not a through street so it's unusual to see one when the streets don't need plowed.

The city actually did a pretty decent job of keeping our streets cleaned off during those huge dumps of snow a couple of weeks ago. And the loaders piled up all the gathered snow at the edges of everyone's driveway. It was a bit tricky to see oncoming traffic for a few days, however it warmed right up and rained for a couple of days, bringing the banks down to a managable size.

As I watched the loader, it passed my house, stopped at the neighbour's driveway, turned around and came back to our house where it proceeded to spend 20 minutes cleaning the banks from the end of my driveway (even coming right into my driveway) and dumping all the snow on my front lawn. He went to my next door neighbours' yards and scooped up any banks they had and dumped them also on my front lawn.

Then he drove away. And for some reason I think I saw a thought bubble just above his loader as he drove away, "That'll teach ya!" it said.

So yeah, Jed got tired of scrolling through and calling all the contacts on his phone so he started phoning people like the city. And complaining that they did a crappy job cleaning the streets and we couldn't see past the end of our driveway and it was a danger to society and they needed to get their act together.

Guess they took him serious. Mine and my neighbour's driveways are cleaned right up. And we won't see grass in the front yard until June, I'm sure.

Is there something wrong with this picture?

I'm sure if you haven't already heard this week about the mass execution of the sled dogs in Whistler you must be living under a rock.

I do not condone this behaviour and am shocked and disgusted by it. And truly I hope that appropriate punishment is metered out. But think about it...

The guy owned the dogs. He knew he was not equipped to continue to provide care to them. He couldn't be bothered to find loving homes for them. So he killed them. His choice. And the world is up in arms - offering death threats and screaming for the maximum penalty.

That very same day (and every day previous and each day since) approximately 250 women, in Canada alone, make the same decision for their unborn children. They own them. Don't feel equipped to deal with parenthood. Couldn't be bothered finding loving homes. They kill them. It's their choice. We applaud them.

Is there something wrong with this picture??

Setting the neighbours straight...

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Every vehicle that drives by on the street sounds like it's in my driveway with all the ice out there. All that snow. Then days of melting and raining. Then sudden drops in temperature. Everything, including the snow banks, are wearing an icy crust.

I hear the vehicle crunch, then I hear Jed leave the house. Then I hear talking in the driveway and think perhaps someone did drive up this evening. It's 10pm and I wonder who it could be so I look out the window to see a taxi leaving next door.

I open my door to hear Jed deep in conversation with my obviously drunk neighbour.

"Uh yeah. Good for you Shelly for not driving tonight. Drinking and driving isn't a good decision. Glad you got a taxi!"

One by one, I'm sure my son will get them all converted.