it's organ Thursday, and I'm enjoying my holiday.

A Rachel joke:

What happens when there's a pancake in the doghouse and your mother's a dishwasher and your father's a dryer? Answer -- nothing, doghouses can't fly.

I've lived in this house for almost five years, and yesterday I finally got around to doing something about the room in the basement where the tv lives. It was done in fake half-timber, stucco and dark brown panelling, and also, for some reason, plaid wallpaper. Peeling off the plaid wallpaper revealed incredible paisley pattern underneath, stuck to the unpainted, unplastered drywall. Bitch. So the kids and I peeled bits of wallpaper off the walls for most of the afternoon, and then we put up some nice green striped paper. The lady at the paint store matched me a can of paint to the darker green, sort of sage, and we painted all the panelling and timbers. Now I just have to touch up and replace all the furniture. And vacuum. Wallpaper stripping is a messy job. Kirsten helped with the primer, and wrote her name and lots of hearts all over the wall like they always do on Trading Spaces (her favorite show). Now the room no longer looks like it should be filled with men drinking Guinness and trying to pinch the barmaid...

Stupid cold is dragging on. One of my customers gave me a handful of fisherman's friends, which helped with the fact I was losing my voice. Hard to serve people when they can't hear what you're saying very well in the first place on account of they're all over 75 and have a huge hearing aid in each ear. If I lose my voice we're doubly screwed... Lots of "WHAT?" today.

I'm having next week off work. Kids are home for spring break, and we're going to hang out. It's really too early to study for my finals and I'm almost finished all the assignments for both my courses, so we should have time to do some things. I'm hoping it doesn't continue to rain with the torrential fervour of the last few days. At least it melted all the snow.

I'm supposed to be writing about drug policy. So I'm going to watch Survivor.

I want to remove one of my toes. It itches constantly and keeps me awake. Perhaps it's my conscience.

Lots of stories, today. The little old people come and tell me about their friends' operations (a tumour that was Just About to pierce through his kidney, just terrible) How their mother sent fruitcakes to the boys at the front during world war two (possible use as alternate weapon? Incoming dried-fruit baked goods) How the government is trying to get everyone to register their guns so that they can later come by and collect them all when they declare martial law. Come on, this is Canada. We don't have a big enough army to declare martial law. We had to come back from the Gulf this time because our one helicopter fell in the sea. Another one I enjoyed was the little man who told me that the lottery is controlled by invisible beings, and that they talk to him while he's in line to buy his tickets.

So, I figure, either all this will rub off on me and I'll start sending fruitcakes overseas and wanting to talk about operations, or I'll have to use my unregistered firearms and talk some sense into these people. That's the problem with retail, on the whole, you have to just nod and smile and agree with them. I wonder if the customer can still be said to be "right" when he is talking to someone who obviously isn't there?

today I canvassed for the Kidney people (hello, we're looking for donations for the Kidney foundation. do you have a spare kidney or two?)

So, here we are in March, and naturally today it snowed. I don't know what it is about this place, we have rain for the entire winter until you think everything you own is going to be so moldy that you'll never be able to dry it out and use it again. Except maybe for penicillin experiments. Whatever. Then, when it should really be spring, it snows. To go with the snow, I have a pretty matching head cold.

I may have to spend the whole weekend in the bath. Only time will tell.

cool things that happened today:

I get to go to three days in May of crime prevention unit training, in Vernon, and it's all-expenses-paid. Now I'm sorry (almost) that I said nasty things about them... And I got a ride home and didn't have to wait for the bus. And I did my sales projections for next month and they look awesome. I'm doing what I said I would do with this booth: making it make money. Somebody told me today that I have a lovely smile and that's why they buy their tickets from me. Sometimes a sweet customer can make all the idiots recede for a little while.

my right hand has left me again. spent the day throwing money at people. typing's a bit slow. made the mistake of calling my mother and telling her about it. she wants me to go to the doctor again. oh, yea, they were so helpful last time. my right foot's been asleep for about a month. I'm ignoring it.

on the bright side, I didn't fail my midterm, despite all my predictions to the contrary. and I also found out that all the stuff I studied isn't going to be on the final, either, so I can concentrate on the new material. the difference between summary conviction and indictable offences. You're all thrilled, I can tell.

And, on the ominous but not unexpected side of things, M's paycheque bounced this week.

Well, here I am, Saturday afternoon once again writing, this time a presentation on street kids. Which, happily, does not have to be formally written out, only performed in class. Ack. Eek. I have lots of material but not all of it is relevant. Some is heartbreaking but doesn't fit into the "Canadian Justice System" angle that this course requires. I have a lot of statistics. A few books full of stories, all of them frightening. I have to put this together into 7 minutes and time-for-questions. I could probably read them bits out of the books for hours, and talk for a very long time. At this point I'm thinking I should have picked another topic, one I could speak dispassionately about....

My brother Roy was here, briefly, and he says he and his girlfriend are thinking of moving out this way. Which would be cool. Another relative with a car :)

My books and notes and printed out sheets are all over the floor, I spread them all out because I like to be able to see everything at once. But then someone comes to deliver a newspaper or something and the dog stampede comes through and everything gets creased. I vacuumed this morning, and cleaned the bathroom and kitchen, and dealt with the recycling, and took Rachel out for lunch because the others were doing a karate fundraising thing (a bottle drive/garage sale/car wash) and although this may stop the complaining about my lack of housework I don't feel as if I've accomplished enough schoolwork. I think I'm probably insane, to be trying to take these courses and work full time and then the kids and the dogs and the house...

Kirsten showed me the insanity test and it turns out that, yes, I am insane. I apologize, for having wasted all your time. Please disregard anything else I might have to say.

The other difficult thing I did today was to pick out a birthday card for my pen-pal on death row. All the little messages (all your wishes come true, etc) seemed cruel, somehow. I settled for a card with a picture of a pastoral field with stuffed-animal cows 'grazing' in it, and a disclaimer inside that I thought it was kind of funny.

Maclean's magazine says:

Canadian cricket team snags first ever win in cricket World Cup, over Bangladesh. Joyous Canadians rise as one to shout: we have a cricket team?

Yesterday's midterm went well, I think, although I gave the wrong year for the implementation of the Criminal Code and one other wrong answer that I know of. Guess we'll see. I'm in trouble at home because I haven't been doing my share of the housework, apparently. sue me....

I'm at the point where I think the essay is shit, that I've written myself into a hole and I'm going to fail all my courses. time to stop and go watch The World's Scariest Places.... g'night.

When the colour of the night
and all the smoke for one life
gives way to shaky movements,
improvisational skills,
a forest of whispering speakers
let's swear that we will
get with the times,
in a current health to stay
let's get friendship right
get life day-to-day
in the forget-yer-skates dream
full of countervailing woes
in diverse-as-ever scenes
proceeding on a need-to-know
in a face so full of meaning
as to almost make it glow

O' for a good life, we might just have to weaken

----the tragically hip, It's a good life if you don't weaken

Back in the late eighties, I worked at a gas station owned by an Irish lady named Sheelagh. What usually happened, when I worked with her, was that I did the work and she talked to a steady stream of men all day long. I was fascinated by this, because although she was friendly and sweet, she wasn't tremendously good-looking, being rather short and brassy.

Yesterday, on my way home from work, I was thinking about my day. In the morning, Charlie and Al who walk the mall and two or three bus drivers and David who plays Keno came and talked to me. There's a boat show happening at the mall, and the guy who's supposed to be selling the boats came by at regular intervals and talked to me. At lunch time, some old guys stopped and talked to me about the boats. In the afternoon, John from the courier company and Tony from the debit machine company both stopped to talk to me. And Chris, who has an hour to kill between buses most afternoons. In between times, all my regular little old men came and I gave them candy because it was Valentine's day. I had a couple of little conversations with women, but mostly, it was men.

So what happens when women get to be 35? None of the men who used to come and talk to Sheelagh were ever interested in talking to me, when I was 20. And, like Sheelagh, I don't have any illusions that I'm good-looking, in fact I'm snaggletoothed and short, and it can't be my boobs cos I hardly have any...

Anyway. Back to crime statistics.

Hostilities aren't stilled
through hostility,
regardless.
Hostilities are stilled
through non-hostility:
this, an unending truth.

Unlike those who don't realize
that we're here on the verge
of perishing,
those who do:
their quarrels are stilled.

- from The Dhammapada, Pairs.

happy tomorrow...

I should be studying. Or editing my term paper on crime statistics... so what am I doing? I'm making turtle cookies for the kids' valentine parties at school tomorrow. 22 for Rachel's class, 24 for Ian's class, Kirsten's class doesn't need any because they're having a Dance instead. With a capital D, trust me. Joeby has been hanging around in the kitchen trying to get his tongue up far enough on the counter to steal cookie dough, when he thinks I'm not looking. Inbetween times, I've been spelling names for the valentines. "How do you spell cock?" "Why do you want to know?" "Because I want to give one to the student teacher and his name's Mr. Hancock." "Oh, right."

why I love the internet. eggs anyone?