Winter Abuse

When Mother Nature slaps us with a seemingly inordinate amount of weather, we feel it emotionally and physically.  Shoveling out for the third time in nearly the same number of days with wind whipping up frozen pieces of moisture, driving it back upon our exposed, innocent faces as we attempt to direct it away from our homes suppresses our spirit and pains our bodies, but we understand.  We are not blameless in all of this since we knew what we were signing up for by choosing to live here.  This is a Canadian winter in a Canadian city.

What really hurts is when another, lesser courter, becomes abusive and the promises that were made when that relationship was blossoming go unfulfilled.  And then, repeatedly, beyond the courtship and into the marriage they continue that misconduct, never able to live up to their vows or admit responsibility.

Abandoned Sidewalk Plow

We'll keep you safe, they tell us.  We'll protect you and your family and provide a place you can live, thrive and raise your children without fear, without concern, and you'll be happy.  You can grow old here and bask in the wonder and satisfaction that you've made a wonderful choice.  You will matter.

Communities court each and every one of us to either live there or remain there.  They tell us that if we pay our taxes and invest in the locales, monetarily and voluntarily, there are services they will provide that will protect us and confer security and safety.

When they renege, we hurt.  The emotional upheaval that occurs because of their neglect is real and legitimate.

"Sidewalk" Five Days After 1st Storm

A battered partner, we are humiliated and have to choose our next course of action: stay and, in all likelihood, continue to be abused; stay and try to fix our batterer; or leave and start fresh, albeit more aware and less naive because of our experience.

Some may lash out in desperation, accomplishing little and looking, well, desperate because they are so vastly outnumbered by those that have already given up, become mean and bitter, and are just trying to survive the ordeal without any real hope for the future. Those victims have realized the offense internally, fretted over the amount of work it would take to change anything, and resigned themselves to the situation, even defending the abuser, telling others how wonderful he is and how lucky they are to have him.  But when we tell them that not all partners are like this, that other places handle their responsibilities efficiently, that it's not like this everywhere, we see the pain in their eyes in that moment's hesitation before they respond, "It's not?"

Saint John Bus Stop

Denial doesn't help you, your children, your acquaintances, or the violator.  It's time to want more for those that matter in your life - and yourself.  This is a Canadian winter in a Canadian city, a Canadian city that is supposed to be able to handle Canadian weather and meet their promises to keep us all safe and content.

Stocking Up at No Frills

There's a blizzard warning issued for tomorrow, so with Holly working, I was sent out to pick up some groceries for ourselves and her mother.  Her mom needs cat food.  Well, the cats need cat food and that trumps anything.

Since I hate crowded grocery stores - or crowds in general - I decided an early morning trip to be wisest.  This plan brought me to Drew and Jen's No Frills (it used to be Dave's, but I'm not sure what happened to Dave) around nine am, where, after loading the necessities (including some rather scary looking baby spinach that is supposed to be good until the 31st of the month, which sounded more like some highly wishful thinking given their sad, wilted look) into a Walmart cart to avoid having to fish for a quarter in seventeen below temperatures for a heavy duty No Frills cart, I maneuvered myself into the lineup at the only open checkout.

After a few moments I noticed we really weren't moving due to an older lady - sixtyish perhaps - at the front of the cash searching her pockets for some money to pay for her groceries.  Her longish graying hair was pulled back and tied into a ponytail, exposing the weathered skin on her face.  "How much do I need?" she asked the cashier, who had begun to look around for some assistance with her awareness of eyes from those in line looking for her to take control.

"The total is $9.59 and you have $4.77, so you need... just a second," and her focus shifted to her calculator.

The older lady, the calmest personality involved, gave me the impression of a stage actor a little bored of a too familiar role, continued to reach into pockets and glance alternately from her food to the amount displayed on the register.  After a few minutes, which seemed longer for everyone present, a lady about three customers back came forwards and asked the cashier if she could put the difference on her debit card.

At this point a rather managerial-looking man (Drew himself perhaps?) had come to the front of the store and picked up the phone and called for another cashier over the loudspeaker, for which he received thanks from the young cashier.

The older lady casually thanked the person paying for her groceries, tied her hood tightly over her head, placed the last of her food into her plastic bag and left.  By this time the line had thinned thanks to the other checkout being opened.  The lady who paid was paying for her own items now - a number of bags of Covered Bridge potato chips on sale for $2.50 per bag, quite a bargain for this local treat, prompting me to grab a bag for Holly and I - explaining that she only likes the sea salt and cracked pepper flavour.

After my items were rung through, the lines back to early morning quiet, the second cashier asked the other, "How much was she short today?"

Dog Sitting in Saint John

You may or may not know this, but Holly and I have a pet sitting service.  For pet sitting, the holidays are busy times and we've been doing an overnight stay with a German shepherd, a regular customer, since Boxing Day.

Here's a summary of the events through the dog's mind:

Day 1 - Yay, they're home! Woof, woof! I knew they wouldn't be gone long so soon after Christmas.  Woof!  Hey, what, aw it's that shifty guy again.  How long is he going to be around?  Where's the girl?  I like her.  Okay, I'm up for a good walk, but why is there so much ice over everything?

Day 5 - Finally, it's past six, about time you're up.  What's the matter, did my barking last night wake you?  You try being left alone in the kitchen with only a rubber ball for entertainment for the entire night.  It's hard to find good help these days.  Oh, by the way, there's a lot of that white stuff all over everything outside.  You don't plan on walking me far in that shit do you?

Day 6 - Here he comes.  Hey, what happened to you last night?  The girl and I watched a movie together.  You were tired?  What do you have to be tired about?  Try trudging through that white stuff with it up to your shoulders, then having you watch me while I take a dump.  Good dog, I'll show you a good dog.

Day 7 - It sure is getting cold.  What was all that gunfire-like noise coming from Uptown last night?  Why was I barking?  You kidding me?  I was pretty sure we were being invaded.  Fireworks?    Maybe they should plow the sidewalks so you're not tripping all over my ass on those crazy streets.

Day 8 - They're gone again.  She's gone. And she left me here in the kitchen again.  Where does she go at night?  It better not be to see Mr. Shifty.  That movie was good though.  Madeline Kahn cracks me up.  That's what holiday weather should be like. And just what do they mean by "dog smell?"  What was that?! Woof!  I don't see anything.  Damn, it's cold.  Woof!  I don't trust that plant in the sun room.  Woof! Woof!  Woof!  It keeps looking at me funny.  Yes, I ate my poop, don't judge me!  Woof! I miss the cats.  There's a lot of cats in this neighbourhood, but I miss them when they're not around.  Why don't they just stay indoors and stop complaining about the cold though?  Stop looking at me, plant!  Woof!  My stomach feels a little funny.  Where are my moms?  Is it morning yet?  Oh, God, it's still watching me.  Don't make eye contact.  I'll go back to the kitchen and bark there.  Woof!  I can still see it.  Why won't it stop looking at me?  I feel all funny - dizzy and I can't breathe.  Oh, God, I'm dying!  Breathe.  I heard about these on television, they're just panic attacks.  Calm down.  Gah! I can't stand it!  Grr! Woof! Grrr!  There, I hope you're happy!  I won't feel guilty, you can't make me.  I warned you, plant.  It's not my fault you had to be eliminated.  Finally, I here him coming.  I need to get out of here.  I will poop for you, Mr. Shifty!

Day 9 - Great.  She's gone and the the door to the sun room is blocked.  I only have the kitchen.  Just as well, the plant body is still in there.  And why were they taking photos?  I don't trust those two.  What do I do until morning?  What's that noise?  I can't even look out the window now!  Woof!  I can't even walk in the park because it's so freakin' cold and all that white shit hurts my feet.  My ball doesn't even bounce when Mr. Shifty throws it.  He is good at throwing my ball, I'll give him that.  Woof!  Was that a noise?  Let me look out the window, I'll be good, I promise.  My stomach doesn't feel so good.  Aren't plants supposed to be good for you?  When are my moms coming back?  They poisoned them, didn't they?!  I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, I'll be good!  Oh, God, they're going to take me back to that lady that took away my balls!  Oh, no.  No!  I'll be good!  I'm dying!  I can't breathe again.  Gah!  Grr!  Grrr!

Day 10 - Well, last night didn't go so well.  How embarrassing, I chewed up a good bed over nothing.  My moms are never coming back, are they?  Why is it so cold?  I'm not going for a walk in these conditions.  Cats are hibernating for Christ's sake!  Why are you so interested in my bathroom habits?  Fine, I'll poop, just let me out for a moment, but I'm not going for no walk.  FML.

***

We didn't get to see the reunion when his owners arrived home, but we're sure he's a whole lot happier and more relaxed.

Storm Day

There's a snow storm forecast for tomorrow and it's always interesting to watch how different people, businesses and organizations handle such events.

I'm not going to harp on the pathetic street and sidewalk maintenance efforts by the city of Saint John, now it's just a fact, like stating the sky is blue, everyone knows and seems to accept it (it must be like this everywhere, right?) and doesn't see a point in trying to change it.  I must be starting to fit into this city well because I'm now able to take my backhanded slap and carry on with the relationship I've settled into.

Tomorrow happens to be a Sunday.  The second last shopping Sunday before Christmas.  When you're living in a locale desperate for every dollar, you need to do things that may not be terribly safe or responsible - like not clearing the sidewalks and streets as well as they should be for the sake of the safety of your residents or keeping malls open without regard for putting the often-minimum-wage-earning employees in jeopardy - for the sake of economic survival.

I know of at least one mall that has told its retail establishments to track the buses before coming to work.  If Saint John Transit - an interesting entity in itself, taking the Canada Post theory of doing business, increasing rates while decreasing service - pulls its buses off the roads, the mall will close.  There are so many reasons this strategy is so golden, particularly for the employees that took the buses to get to work.

Anyway, I had a friend who was dating a girl who used to use this exact technique for making decisions herself.  Whenever we would pair up with this couple to go out for dinner, she would leave the decision of where to eat to anyone else.  That way she remained free to criticize without having to take any of the responsibility.

The problem in this case is that you're playing a game of craps where someone's safety is valued at the same level as an business's financial bottom line.

And that's wrong.

First Wordless Wednesday

For today's post, I thought I would go with my first Wordless Wednesday featuring a couple shots by Holly on a recent outing with some fabulous NAS students and local photographer Bill Lapp.

Holly was thinking of me when she took this one

And here's a reminder to remember to look in every direction for opportunity, not just straight ahead.

The Songbirds' Lament

The potential promise of warmth on a cold, foggy Saint John end-of-summer night heralded the death of seven thousand lyric dreams, with hundreds more needing to be euthanized.  Countless numbers of songbirds, the inspiration of poets since the poem's inception, perished on a Friday night at Irving's Canaport natural gas plant in east Saint John during a flaring operation that could be mere weeks away from being unnecessary.

The pain one must feel in your heart when coming to work to see that you unwittingly participated in extinguishing such an overwhelmingly beautiful innocence and recognizing a long-thought dead dream in the form of a hurtful twinge as another ember dies inside your body.

There's a lot of pain in this place...

And anger.

Dreams that once existed, only to be replaced by safety  disguised as financial security compacts are less than a memory as more and more fight having to recognize the realization that the promises were false and your new dreams have been built over swampland.

Scent is likely the most overlooked of the senses.  When one is bombarded with too much of a particular offense, you shut down the ability to heed the warnings, as a form of defense, not perceiving the irony in granting the intruder free reign.

Respect the alerts that nature has gifted you and act, before your last ember of hope is put to rest and be wary of the promises that come as a warming glow in a cold, gray night.

Survival

I spent most of my Saturday - at least it seems that way - hunting fruit flies.  We bought fruit from Atlantic Superstore and used it right away, but we've been left with a rapidly expanding population of these tiny beasts.

Normally I don't kill anything (excepting mosquitoes or other blood sucking bastards!), but this is war.  I have already learned much more than I need to know about the drosophila melanogaster.  They live about one month, which, judging by the rate of reproduction since yesterday, is potentially a lot of fruit flies.

War takes its tole on both sides though.  The enemy must invade your mind to be successful (I'm thinking I should have read that free public domain copy of The Art of War that's on my Kobo) and you have to learn to think like your enemy to be victorious.

I firmly believe that both sides lose.  With each death I cause I lose something inside of me.  It matters not what I kill or am responsible for killing.  I try to limit that weight as much as I am able.

No matter how fleeting or seemingly insignificant the life of the fruit fly - or anything else - is, they want to survive, just like us.  Perhaps, after this life, their spirit will move on to some other being, maybe even human (I know plenty of humans that don't appear far removed from a fruit fly).  We may too.  Still, we all try to hang onto the present because of that fear of the unknown.  The future just may turn out to be better than we imagine in our thoughts rooted in fear, anxiety and uncertainty.