what's an 'ap'?

i have a lot of time on my hands lately.  sleeping seems to take up a fair chunk of it.  i guess i must need it.   i happened to hear Rick Mercer do a Remembrance Day rant about the Canadian Government's treatment of our war veterans.  he's a very funny man; a brilliant satirist.  in his rant, he mentions that veterans of 80+ years are told they can download an ap for their iphones, to help them contact the gov't Veteran's Affairs branch for various reasons.  how many folks of 80+ do you know, who have an iphone and are all over the 'aps' thing?  

But when i'd stopped howling with laughter, i got thinking.... i do have an ipad.... a Mother's Day gift from the kids....  and so far the only aps i've used are email and ibooks.... a calculator, the weather network and skype.... i've taken a few pictures and learned how to enter people in the contacts ap..... downloaded a few maps....  so, as i couldn't sleep last night, i went to the ap store.    i found all sorts of lovely things that are free!  of course, they just have enough contained in them to get you wanting more, but what fun!  i now have a real time piano i can play by touch-screen (Real Piano HD), a build in microphone and recording software (MicPro), a touch screen drum kid (BeatPad), acres of on-screen sheet music (VSheetMusic) and the coolest set of finger paints ever(BambooPaper)           

here's a sample of what Bamboo Paper doodled up for me.. all done with my fingers on the ipad screen

way too much fun

i may have to learn some self restraint though.  @ 3 a.m. (just as i was beginning to really get the hang of BeatPad) my granddaughter told me to be quiet and go to sleep

What do these three things have in common?

Elderly Canadians proudly wearing the red maple leaf as they enjoy a winter holiday

Royal Canadian Air Force 

touring the world and performing death defying maneuvers as they roar overhead close to the speed of sound

A cute little Dark - eyed Junco with a white tummy and dark uppers - fluffed against the cold

"making something magical takes time as well as fearlessness. I have to allow myself to make mistakes  and  be willing to start over from a blank page. With so many things in life we don't have that luxury but at least we could work on the theory the best course of action is to begin again from wherever we are right now - considering lessons learned of course."  ... from Susan @ Phantasythat

to begin again from where i am.... to recognize mistakes and start again from a blank page... 

it's been a very long day, fraught with highs and lows.... mainly lows. it's been a many kleenex day, if the truth be told.  when starting from a low place, any direction is uphill, and very hard, discouraging work.  

... but the view from the top just might be a big improvement over the one down below, if we can just get there.  

Sometimes magic is the result of really hard work.  perhaps more often than not.  certainly, it's difficult, if not impossible to make joy without it.

recognize this guy? 

......  the governator back in his Terminator days.  just before lunch today, my boss played the role of Terminator. i was the 

yep, they fired me

there was this incident.... a new employee was hired.  a very highly paid, and, if logic applies, therefore a very highly skilled employee.  i know this stuff because i do payroll.  i only suspected the high pay rate at the time because he's a senior engineer.  pay rate was, in fact the issue in question.  it's problematic for the person doing payroll to pay an employee if they don't know what that employee's rate of pay is.  so... with cutoff past and hours tallied, everything was ready to send off for processing and payment.... everything except the precise rate of pay for this new, quite likely highly paid employee.  

the company hires out human resources stuff to an HR contractor. a 'specialist', also very highly paid. i know this because i also did payables. to complicate things further,  it wasn't just matter of asking someone in the office how much to pay him.  the HR 'specialist' and the employee in question both work in a branch office,  half the length of the province from the main office, where i work .... um, worked.  after trying, unsuccessfully,  for a week or so, to contact this HR  person - after leaving voice messages and sending emails to her and her staff requesting the info,  with not so much as a reply from her, and only  'i'll get the info to you as soon as i have it' from her staff, it was after 2 pm  on friday. i had till 5 pm that day to get this done and i still hadn't heard anything.  So i called the branch manager, asking if perhaps he could forward the info. he didn't have it, but he must have contacted the HR contractor, because, magically, she called me only minutes after i spoke to him....  she was more than a bit huffy because she's a very busy, very important person who can't be chasing stuff like this around.  she cancelled a client meeting  in order to get the info to me in time.   so everybody got paid .  

But we had to have a phone meeting to discuss this issue, and find out what the problem was.   so she scheduled  a conference call.  in the course of the ensuing discussion, i explained to her and her employee, the problem was that the payroll clerk didn't have the payroll info that someone had been sitting on for 2 weeks,  and the person who had the info wouldn't answer my calls or emails.  there followed a long explanation about how blameless she was, and how terribly busy, and how inappropriate it was for me to have bothered the branch manager about this.  so, what, i wondered aloud, would have been appropriate?  perhaps not paying the employee would have been appropriate?  no sooner  had i finished the sentence, than there was the sound of her vehicle making its 'open door' reminder sound.  "excuse me", she said, i'm just filling up the car on the way to taking my sweetie to the airport".   

(that's appropriate)

there followed more self-important explanations of how she didn't have time for this sort of thing and how it wasn't even really her job - she was just doing the boss (my employer, and, incidentally, hers) a favour.  what then, i wondered (with my inside voice this time) WAS her job? the 'busy' thing rankled. i was impertinent enough to suggest that we were all very busy, and there wouldn't have been a problem if the info had been sent to me in the first place.  it was a stalemate. though she was adamant that she wasn't trying to blame anyone, she was extremely  displeased that i wouldn't concede that i was the party in the wrong. 

so, early this week, when my immediate supervisor called (also the boss' wife), and wanted to discuss the issue, i knew i'd  been 'reported'.  i could only explain that  the person i was told to get the info from,  after numerous attempts to make contact, would not so much as reply. it had, at the time, seemed imperative to look elsewhere for the info if the new employee was to receive a paycheck.  my supervisor clearly did not believe me. "well, i never have any trouble getting in touch with her," i was told.  "that," my mouth replied before my brain had a chance to edit, "is because you're not a minion".  i could tell by the long, pregnant pause the words invoked on the other end or the line, that this was not well received. 

 when they called me in to the boss' office this morning to fire me, i asked if this had anything to do with this HR person's displeasure with me. the boss pretended not to know anything about it, but his eyes got very shifty and nervous - he couldn't look at me - when he said that no, he didn't know what i was referring to; i reasonably certain he was lying.  "it just doesn't seem to be a good fit," he said.  

it was the word of a minion against the word of someone much more important. i must be a trouble maker, so i had to go.  

after i got home and had a good cry, i couldn't help but notice that the sky hadn't fallen in, and the world was much the same as it had been before this calamity happened, so i had to concede that, surprisingly, it isn't the end of the world.  when my daughter come home to find me there hours before i should have got off work, i swallowed my humiliation and told her i'd been fired.  her look of disbelief was worth the humiliation it cost to speak the awful words.  when i told her i thought it was about the payroll thing (which i'd ranted to her about the day it happened) she said, "that wasn't the right job for you anyway".  

and she's right. the structure and hierarchy of big biz is not a good place for me.  they were right.  it wasn't a good fit,  for reasons they didn't even comprehend.  with 2 mortgages to pay, being unemployed scares the hell out of me; i've already applied for unemployment insurance.  i'm doing my best to believe that this is the beginning of something better.   when i began this job i was very close to a complete mental breakdown from the previous job. i went from one very stressful job to another very stressful job. i don't think i deserved to be fired, but, on some weird level, it feels a bit like a blessing.  i CAN do a 9 - 5 desk job, but it takes a very big toll on me. perhaps this isn't a crisis at all, but an opportunity.  with any luck i'll be able to get unemployment insurance long enough to have a bit of a rest (while looking for another job).... a rest that already was badly needed 6 months ago, when there was no opportunity to take it.  

" I have to allow myself to make mistakes  and  be willing to start over from a blank page. With so many things in life we don't have that luxury but at least we could work on the theory the best course of action is to begin again from wherever we are right now - considering lessons learned of course."

there has been very little joy on the dipstick of my life for a very long time.... lately, just barely enough to get a reading..... i'm reminded of the importance of magic, and that magic is closely linked to joy. i'm pulling up to the pumps now.  fill 'er up! 

many thanks, Susan

would you let me know if you hear of any job openings for a smart-mouthed fiddle player?

autumn is a time for rest

reflected shadows flicker across the screen of my laptop as i sit curled against the warm, comfy arm of the couch, sipping my favorite tea. there are cedar waxwings outside the window at my back

they're feasting on the berries of the huge mountain ash scratching against a bright pewter sky, in the front yard at Miramichi House.  

this morning, we woke to find everything covered with a fresh, thick layer of immaculate snow.  

i'm imagining how lovely it will be to build a fire in the big brick fireplace 

this evening when a friend comes to play violin duets with me 

i had hoped to do some yard work this weekend, but it's october, and there's snow on the ground.  it's early for snow, even in northern alberta, and this snowfall may melt away before it finally comes to stay awhile, but this time of year, temperatures near the freezing mark feel very cold, and i'm not inclined to be stoic.  even the enclosed front porch feels too cold to enjoy today.

in several months, the same temperatures will feel mild, and it will be a treat to sit in the sunny porch with a cup of tea and the dog curled at my feet, but today it's a comfort to be inside, quiet and still, enjoying the gracious beauty of my future home for a few quiet minutes before i transform into a white tornado and clean the place for my renters.   

next year at this time, i'll have spent the summer developing a garden plot here, cleaning out the overgrown flower borders, pruning and finalizing the final plans for landscape improvements.  i'll have made jams and jellies, canned and frozen food grown right here, and perhaps painted the exterior of the house.  i'll have found a permanent spot in the house for my loom, bundled, stored and idle now for a couple of years. perhaps i'll begin then to make plans for improvements, preparatory to operating the house as a Bed and Breakfast.  

but for now, at least for a few more minutes

i will rest

Some days you just can't come out on top

After a weekend of slogging away in chaos (aka home renovations) I went to bed sunday night exhausted, but satisfied with what was accomplished. The last of the three bedrooms floored in lovely  'click' bamboo. Goes in much like laminate flooring, but 3/8" thick and made of laminated strips of bamboo. Walls of the room all freshly painted and lovely new baseboards and trim around the door.

I'm so old I remember playing vinyl '78's, and I remember when 8-track tapes we're cutting - edge technology.  And I remember when baseboards and door trim were nailed on. Not so anymore. Glue is the way it's done now.  Really stinky glue with ghastly, noxious fumes. After working with the stuff all day Sunday and sleeping in a house reeking of it (though, I assure you, ALL of the windows were wide open) I woke this morning with a mother of a migraine. Nothing good drugs and sleep can't cure, but it means a day off work at a time when I need to be there... And my brain feels so bruised after one of these that it's not good for anything strenuous for a day or 2 afterwards. But we learn to cope.

Towards the end a day of drugs and sleep,feeling nearly human again, I took the dog for a short walk. He was over the moon. Migraine days are not fun for him.   So he  did his happy dance, then bounced into the bushes with serious business on his mind.  He's a funny guy - he likes his privacy in moments like these, going as far out of sight as the leash will allow, and turning his back to me. I try to be respectful and turn my back as well.

He came bounding back with his usual joi de vivre, and it wasn't till he began rolling about on the lawn, rubbing at his face and chasing his tail that I suspected something amiss.  When he held still long enough to get a good look at him, my drug and pain dulled brain didn't at first comprehend what the little yellow bits in his long, thick, curly hair were.  Pain, however, is a very good learning tool,

so as soon as the first ons stung me, I figured it out right away. Yellow jackets! And lots of them. The pooe dog was writhing on the ground in panic, and all I could think of was to beat them off of him.    It seemed to work somewhat. A number of them left him alone and concentrated on me. Somehow we ran the rest of the way home, with me beating at both of us, till, standing on the doorstep, I did my best to slap the ones off of me and brush them away from him, and we made as quick an entry  through a minimally opened doorway as possible. inside the house I concentrated on pulling angry   wasps from his thick, curly hair. I did successfully extricate a number without getting my hands  stung, but they managed to find some other juicy bits of me to bite. I don't know how many times   either of us got stung, but I'm certain he got the worst of it, poor boy.                                                         

Once I was fairly certain the dog had no more hitch hikers I noticed one or 2 still entangled in my own hair and clothing, who had no interest in parting ways. I'd no sooner disentangle on, tha another would alight with murder on his mind. In a flash of divinely inspired brilliance, it occurred to me that, like flies, they might head for the window if the room was darkened... So I turned out the lights and patrolled the windows with a fly shatter.. Even so, it was some time and many insectile corpses before I felt safe in my own home.

Back to the dog, who was pacing and panting in a panic, to find that he still had a few entrapped in his hair. He seemed to believe I was doing something to improve the situation, though, as he came immediately when I called him, standing, all a-tremble, for me to tug and tear at the terrifying things in his hair. I had tostop  periodically to swat at the odd one who preferred me to the window. I haven't counted the corpses on the floor.  Something in the neighborhood of 20, I think.

Then I had to settle the dog enough that I could run a brush through his curls, making sure we really had got them all. He was wide eyed and trembling, panting so hard I was afraid he'd hyperventilate.... Can dogs hyperventilate? He had that wacant, staring look animals get when they're in pain, so I got the children's Advil from the cupboard, and gave him the dosage recommended foe his weight.  It seemed to take a long time for the trembling to stop, and even longer for his breathing to return to normal, and he was glued to my side as I prepared for bed.

Only then did it occur to me to google 'dog stung by wasps'. Turnd out I should have given him antihistamines

Miramichi House

She's a grand old prairie lady with maritime roots.  76 years old, lived in by the family who built her all that time, she's in pristine condition, with hardwood floors, 2 fireplaces, 4 spacious bedrooms, 10 foot ceilings, art deco sconces in the living room and a crystal chandelier in the dining room, which is still furnished with the dining suite purchased when she was a young 'un.  

                                                                    More here.

She's a stunner

and she's mine