A Matter of Mittens

Yesterday on my way home from work, a woman ("Disgruntled Woman") got on the bus and stopped behind another woman (Mom-Woman") with a large baby buggy, that was stopped near the front of the bus. Mom-Woman had the buggy pushed as far over to the side as she could get it and there really was quite a bit of room to get around it. She was prevented from moving foward because of two other equally large baby buggies.

It did not matter to Disgruntled Woman that Mom-Woman had nowhere to go. She kept standing behind her and yelling at her to move her buggy. She finally did go around her and found a seat sitting across from me, where she loudly announced to all who were listening that Mom-Woman was a f**king b*tch and she should have known that she (Disgrungled Woman) was hit by a car ON HER BIRTHDAY!!! and had four cracked ribs. This tirated kept up for a while until one of the other mother's on the bus told her to watch her language.

Disgruntled Woman switched topics to tell the gentleman in front of her (I think she knew him) about all the people in her family who had died recently. She finished that amusing tale by asking said gentleman if he could "trust" her for half a pound of cheese until she got her cheque the next day. I didn't hear his answer and it was finally time for me to get off that bus so I could catch the next.

Disgruntled Woman was getting off the bus at the same stop as me. I got up behind her and I noticed that she had one of her mittens barely hanging out of her pocket and was about to lose it. The bus had stopped and the doors were opened and I gently tapped her on the shoulder and said, "Excuse Me".

She whipped around and started yelling "I know. I know. I'm getting off the f**king bus. You don't have to be in such a f**king rush."

I smiled sweetly and pointed to her mitten and said, "I only wanted to tell you that your mitten is falling out of your coat."

"Oh" was all she said and she exited the bus.

Everyone around me was smiling as I called out "Have a nice day".

In a Lurch

When I was growing up, we had a trailer that was in a park not far from our house. My mom and I spent the whole of the summer there, while my dad and my brothers stayed at home and worked at the family towing business. Once in a while, my cousin Jerry would stay with my younger brother Merv. Merv is not younger than me, but he is younger than my eldest brother, Larry.

During the summer, Merv would go to the golf course across the street and collect golf balls that had gotten hit into the pond. He would clean them, baggie them and sell them to the players on the course. Then he would take our dog, Lurch, to Gypsie's Ice Cream Palour and he'd treat them both to an ice cream cone. When Jerry was there, he would help out and he'd enjoy an ice cream cone each day as well.

One day, it was rainy and overcast and there was not much business on the golf course. The boys only made enough money to get two ice cream cones. They went home and picked up Lurch and took him to Gypsie's. Jerry and Merv shared one ice cream cone and Lurch had his own.

A gentlement watched them for a bit and then walked up and asked the boys why they were sharing an ice cream and giving the dog his own. Merv explained that they didn't have enough money for three cones and the dog was used to getting his own each day and wouldn't understand if he suddenly didn't get it one day. Merv said he was afraid Lurch would think he had done something wrong.

The gentleman was so impressed, he bought all three of them an ice cream cone.

Costco Efficient

The only way I can actually be sure to get a new bathing suit when I need one is to buy it at Costco. They don't have dressing rooms, so I don't have to go through the humiliation of looking at all my jiggly parts in huge mirrors, in bright glaring lights.

I get to try it on at home -- and then it's just too much trouble to take the damn thing back.

And That's Why He's Perfect For Me

I know this is probably going to embarass The Perfect Man, but I have a story to tell.

I work in the legal department for a child welfare agency. It's not the greatest job in the world to read the things I have to read. But every once in a while, something good happens and that's what keeps me getting up for work in the morning. Well that and The Perfect Man nudging me in the ribs saying, "Bernie, the damn alarm's been ringing for 10 minutes".

Yesterday, something good happened.

We have children "in the system" who are over the age of 16 so cannot be in a foster home, but are under the age of 18 so still fall under our mandate. These kids live indepedently, but we serve as their "parents". We provide them with their (very modest) living expenses and they contact their workers like you or I would call our moms.

One of these kids in independent living has had a very rough go of it. He's in trouble a lot and he has a lot of anger issues (but I imagine the best of us would, given what he's been through in his young life). His worker told me yesterday that he's a good kid with a good heart who makes bad decisions. One of those bad decisions landed him in court for uttering threats. Now he's facing a month or more in secure custody.

This young man has two cats. His worker tells me he's barely able to take care of himself at times, but those two cats are the most loved and cared for animals she has ever encountered. She sent a plea to our agency asking if there were someone willing to take the cats in on a temporary basis so that our "child" would have one less thing to worry about during this turbulent time.

I called The Perfect Man. I didn't even get a chance to finish telling him why I was calling. I didn't even have to tell him that I was crying over this. He said, "Do you want to do this" and I said "yes". "Done", he announced.

And that's only one tiny, small reason why I love him so much and why he's so perfect for me.

Note to Reader: I volunteered to take the cats, but stipulated that if they were male, they had to be fixed, because we have three male cats at home. They were not fixed and so went to another loving foster home without existing cats.

How Did Mom Get in My Mirror

Yesterday evening, The Perfect Man and I went to my mom and step-dad's place to help them out with some electrical problems they've been having. While there, we told them that we're taking them away to their favourite hotel in Niagara Falls in April. Mom immediately started stressing, "I don't know if we'll have enough money for the Casino by then." She must have said that no less than eight times while we were there.

After we left, it hit me. I'm just like that. I'm not as bad as her, but I do worry about things that might happen instead of just deciding to deal with them if they do.

I love it when a revelation like that hits. That's when I make my resolutions, instead of waiting until January 1st every year. So, from now on I resolve to try not to worry about things before they happen.

Thanks, Mom!

Sleeping With Elvis

There are only two "famous" people in this world that I ever really wanted to meet when I was growing up. One was real and the other was a character. The real person was Elvis Presley. The character is better left for another blog entry.

Elvis......wow. One of my first albums was Elvis Presley sings Flaming Star. Most of those songs never made it main stream and I can probably still sing every single one of them. And movies? I prayed just about every weekend that there would be an Elvis movie on at some point.

Then it happened. Oh my gosh! I could hardly contain my excitement. My brother and I were watching "Dialing for Dollars" on WKBW-TV out of Buffalo (as we did every day after school) and the host announced that the following week was ELVIS WEEK. I thought I was going to pee my pants.

I got ready. I had ten 60 minute tapes and my little portable tape recorder. You know the one; it has an external microphone on a three foot cord. Every day during Elvis week, I rushed home in time for the movie and I set the tape recorder up so the microphone was close to the speaker and I hit record. About 30 minutes later, I heard "click" and I got up and flipped the tape. 30 minutes after that, I heard "click again and I changed the tape.....and so on. I did that all week.

Then, every night at bedtime, I would pop one of those tapes into the player and I listened to it as I fell asleep. I knew all the movies so well that when I closed my eyes, I could picture the whole movie taking place. The only difference was that I was the one in the female lead. YUM!

So, I guess I kinda had television in my bedroom before it was cool to have one.

And just think; if I had known The Perfect Man then, with my inspiration and his know-how, we may just have been the first to invent the VCR.

What's Meatloaf Got To Do With It

The Perfect Man and I run karaoke at a local bar on Saturday nights. I have a good friend, Devlin, who likes to come out and lend his fantabulous voice to the chorus of other wanna-be stars.

A few weeks ago, it was a slow night so I started and round of karaoke roulette and Devlin partook. The rules are simple: the audience picks a disc number, then a track number and that's the song you sing. Devlin was lucky enough to get "Two Outa Three Ain't Bad" for his roulette turn. It's a song I hadn't heard in a very long time.

For the next several days, I heard Two Outa Three Ain't Bad on my radio station at work.

This past weekend, Devlin came out to karaoke again. This time he picked Tina Turner's "What's Love Got To Do With It" on his own.

I kid you not -- I heard it yesterday on the radio and then again today.

Devlin, I haven't heard CCR's "Proud Mary" in a while. How about you come out and sing it this weekend and we'll see what happens.

Life? With Harry

In a previous post, I touched on the fact that The Perfect Man and I lived with a ghost. The new house we moved into was owned by a single family since it was built in 1964: Harry, Lily and their three children. Harry passed away in the summer of 2005. I think he took care of Lily while he was alive because she suffered from Alzheimer's. When he passed, she went to live with her daughter and the house was put on the market.During the house buying process, we were fortunate enough to meet Lily and her daugther and son-in-law and they are lovely people.

Shortly after moving into our new house, four events occurred which lead us to believe that Harry was still around:

1. The day we got the keys, we went to our new home and ran through all the rooms, laid on all the carpets and generally acted like fools in our joy of joint home ownership. While there, I closed a kitchen drawer no less than three times. The first time, I hardly noticed. The second time I mentioned it to The Perfect Man, and the third time, I was slightly creeped out. Neither of us had opened that drawer at least two of the three times.
2. After moving into the house, I took my coat out of the front closet. Hanging from my pocket (on the outside) was a bottle of watermelon scented shower gel with a hook for hanging over the shower spout. Neither one of us had ever seen the shower gel before nor did we ever use shower gel. Neither one of us could explain how it got there.
3. I let Stealer out of the house one morning. It was very cold outside so I only left him out for five minutes. When I went to get him, he didn't come to the door. I tried five minutes later and shook his treats to entice him to come in. He meowed when he heard the treats rattling in their cannister. But he meowed from inside the house. I was the only one awake at the time.
4. Before we installed a programmable thermostat in our home, The Perfect Man and I had to manually put the thermostat up and down. Up when we wake, down when we leave for work, up when we get home from work and down again at bed time. I started noticing that the thermostat was already turned up when we got home from work. At first I thought we were just forgetful in turning it down before leaving for work -- except that it was at 23 degrees. We never, ever put our thermostat at 23 degrees. The highest we go is 21 degrees. When I realized it was probably Harry, I said, "Thanks for putting up the heat, Harry -- but please no higher than 21 degrees." Since then, it never did go higher.

Believe my tale as you wish; I believe it and it makes me feel good. Harry was thoughtful, playful and helpful; not threatening in the least. His actions have gone a long way to making us feel welcome in our new home.

Unfortunately, it's been some time now since we have noticed anything out of the ordinary and it's our feeling that Harry "checked us out" and has now gone to whatever place was waiting for him. Perhaps secure in his belief that his house will be as loved and cared for as when he was alive. I think he'll be back from time to time, like when he "saved" Stealer from the heating vent.

Thanks for the time together Harry!

Well, Bully For Them

I was flipping channels yesterday evening, killing time before I had to go out. I stopped when I got to a local news program and they were discussing three girls who had been arrested on Tuesday in New York after a video of them verbally and physically attacking another girl surfaced.

The topic of discussion was whether or not girls were getting more violent today and why. The participants said that the problem was that children in general were getting desensitized because of all the violence they see on television, at the movies and in video games.

I'm not going to comment on that theory because I have no idea if that's the problem or not. What I will say is that the director of this particular news program chose to play the violent video over and over and over again while the host was espousing his position that violence shown on television was one of the reasons our kids were desensitized enough to commit said violent acts.

The hypocrisy of it actually made me want to go out and punch someone, so I guess they were right.

To The Perfect Man

My Dearest Bear,

My hand is on the back of your hand, and I am gently stroking it.

You are my best friend, confidante, the one who I can whisper my secrets to, share stories with, rest with, sing and dance with; you are my protector, my suck, my guide, my follower, my inspiration, my equal; you are weak when I am strong, and you are strong when I am weak; you are my dream comforter, my babbler in the night, my tea maker.

You rub my feet.

Each day, I spend at least a little bit of time wondering what I did that was so special as to deserve you in my life. You have allowed me to get to the point where I believe that I deserve to be as happy as you make me. I see so much love in you; love for me; and I marvel that I can inspire such feelings in someone.

I see your eyes looking into mine. I see the love. There’s a feeling that goes through me that
goes far beyond passion or love. It’s total commitment. It's as if you and I truly become one person in those moments. Your heart speaks directly to mine.

From my heart to yours....I love you....forever together...h2h

Bernie

P.S. I get to sleep with you tonight.

Stacked Deck

Sunday was Bob's 25th birthday. It's hard for me to believe that I have a son who is 25. I barely feel like I'm an adult at times.

Bob, his girlfriend Tiffany and my parents came over for dinner. The rest of the crew showed up after dinner for cake.

Bob loves performing slight of hand magic and he's very, very good at it. He's always amazing us with it, but especially my mother.

My mother brought a birthday present for Bob. But she also had something else for him....someone had given her a deck of cards and she immediately thought of Bob because a lot of his tricks are done with cards.

The cards all have naked people on them. To be more specific, they all contain naked MEN!

Billing in the Afterlife

Subject: Your Bell e-bill is ready
From: bill.presentment@bell.ca
Date: Mon, January 15, 2007 4:20 am
To: Me

Name: K STAFFLEITNER

Date: January 12, 2007

Amount Due: 0.00

Hello K STAFFLEITNER,
Your e-bill is now available online.Thank you for choosing Bell.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I kid you not. I cancelled my telephone service as of December 1, 2006. I received a final bill on December 12, 2006.

Today, I received notification that I had a bill from Bell Canada dated January 12, 2007 with a zero balance. I went online and checked -- There is a bill posted dated January 12, 2007 with a zero balance.

And they wonder why they're failing as a business.

Fair Spray

We have three cats and a new sofa and love seat. The cats aren't bad with scratching the furniture, but every once in a while, instinct takes over and one or another of them will scratch. To discourage them, I keep a spray bottle full of water beside my seat. As soon as I hear the scratching sound, I give the cat a little squirt.

Yesterday was my son's 25th birthday and we had the whole gang over. We were sitting in the living room and Crystal was beside me on the love seat. She called Stealer to come up and sit with her. Being a cat, he didn't listen. She lightly scratched the cushion because that's a sound that usually attracts him.

So, I sprayed her.

You Don't Say

Tina (seated on the left) told me that her daughter Irene (in the middle) was pregnant. My response was, "Oh my god. So is Crystal!" That's when The Perfect Man snapped this picture.

Of course, we had both been sworn to secrecy by our daughters.

Steal Heating Vents

Meet Stealer. Stealer is about ten years old now and he is the only one of our three cats that goes outside. He spends about ten minutes outside, maybe twice a day.

Yesterday, The Perfect Man and I got home to find a heating vent in the middle of the floor in our breakfast nook. We were a little stumped and we started searching the house to see where the vent had come from. Not the breakfast nook or living room, not any of the bedrooms or the bathroom. We even checked the basement, but all heating vents were securely in place. So, where the heck did this thing come from? Our first thought was our resident ghost, Harry.

I picked up the heating vent and my stomach did a flip flop. Stuck inside the heating vent was Stealer's collar. His name tag had become jammed inside the grating. He has a habit of sleeping on the heating vent under a stool in the kitchen; the only vent we didn't think to check. He must have gotten his tag stuck and then had to drag that vent around with him until a link in his collar had opened up enough for it to drop off his neck. The poor thing must have been terrified.

So, it wasn't our ghost after all. Although, it was a stainless steel link. I wonder how it opened.....

Dreams of Sugar Plums?

When my brother and I were younger, we watched a movie called "Trilogy of Terror". We missed the first two segments and were watching the third one about a little Zuni warrior doll that came to life when its belt came off. This thing terrorized Karen Black with it’s razor sharp teeth, and it’s huge butcher knife. Mom told us to turn it off but we begged her to let us watch. After we promised that we would go right to sleep, she gave in.

My brother and I went right to bed after watching the movie. The landing at the top of the stairs had a three foot by three foot landing with the bathroom at the head, my bedroom to the right, and my brother’s to the left. We sat in our bedroom doorways trying to convince each other that our various dolls and action figures weren’t coming to life in the dark. We were way too terrified to go to sleep.

Then, the hallway light came on, so we scooted into our respective beds. Mom came up and went into the bathroom. When she was done, she came out and I saw her crouch on the landing. She pulled a big ass butcher knife from behind her back. She plunged the knife into the carpet, and twisted it back out and up again. Plunged down, twisted out. Over and over. She opened her mouth into a wide evil grin showing us her razor sharp (plastic toy vampire) teeth and she said, "You kids go to sleep, or I’m going to get you".

Yeah, we screamed. Loud. And long. My brother practically climbed the wall he was so scared and I did my best to turn away from my mother while still trying to keep my eyes on her. Linda Blair would have been proud.

The surprising thing is that I still love scary movies. The scarier, the better. I guess it just makes me feel closer to mom.....

Quick! Call A Whore, I See A Cop

I work in the legal department for a child welfare agency. Our office is across the street from a motel that mostly rents by the hour (or the minute) and has several "drive thru" windows.

One day, a number of my co-workers were crowded around one of the windows looking at the motel parking lot. I joined them and realized that there was an incredibly young girl who appeared to be strung out and she was trolling for customers. I kid you not. This girl could not have been over 13 or 14. We were sickened. Even worse, there was a creep hanging out in an SUV in the parking lot. Every once in a while, he'd pull up and give her some pointers or he'd give his horn a little beep and point out a potential customer. The creep was clearly her pimp.

We had to get this little girl off the streets before someone actually picked her up. One of my co-workers called down to our intake departement and they called the police. We all stood at the window, waiting with bated breath. Would the police get there in time?

No, they didn't! Little Miss Innocent got into the SUV with her pimp. Best we could figure is he had figured out we were watching and he was going to take her out of there. Two of our intake department workers decided they could not wait for the police. They ran out to the SUV and, while one of the blocked the path of the car, the other banged on the passenger window and begged the girl to get out of the truck.

On the second floor, all of us were crossing fingers and saying quick prayers to our respective higher powers. Yes! Yes! Yes! She got out of the truck and started to speak with our intake department. We all cheered and were jumping up and down with joy. We had saved a little girl from a scumbag pimp. What could be better? I'll tell you. The young girl had been speaking to a driver of a pickup truck and he had decided to take her up on her offer and he had gone around the corner and pulled into the motel lot. So, we also saved her from a pathetic low-life customer. YIPPEE!!!

Our joy was shortlived. Our intake workers walked away from the SUV and the girl got back in the SUV and the scumbucket drove away with her. We were crushed. A couple of us were actually teary at this point.

Then a couple of cars pulled into the motel parking lot very quckly and they blocked the pickup truck (the potential customer). The men in the cars got out and pulled the guy out of the pickup and put him up against his truck and held him there. Now, we were very confused. Then one little voice from near the back of the office said, "Holy shit. They cops". And our intake workers confirmed it.

We had just tried to save one of Hamilton's finest in the middle of a sting operation.

Witty Ditty

This is just one of the "nursery rhymes" my mother taught me:

Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet
Eating her curds and whey
Along came a spider
And sat down beside her
And said "give me some you bitch."

The Rapture

I attended catholic school. One thing catholic "leaders" love to do is scare the bejesus out of you in an attempt to get you to blindly follow their teachings.

One torture practice they used was a film all about the rapture. The rapture is supposedly a day that god [he is the kingdom, the power and the glory] will raise all good christians to heaven, body and soul. Only evil people and non-christians will be left on earth. The film also said that you had to ask the lord [praise be his name] specifically to come into your heart, or he'd leave you behind. Needless to say, the film depicted an earth full of fire, violence, and general mayhem that would have scared any naive ten year old, and I was certainly no exception. I must admit, I spent a few sleepless nights over that one. I must have asked the lord [may he always be with you] into my heart every night and morning for a month solid.

I did finally get over the trauma of the film. I thought maybe I did deserve to go to heaven and of course I wouldn't be left behind. That is until one day I came home from school and no one was home.

No one was home! No one. Not mom. Not dad. N-O O-N-E!

That had never, ever happened. My mom was always home. If she wasn't home, there was someone there in her place. The door was unlocked. Mom had her knitting stuff sitting by the chair where she usually sat. Dinner preparations had been started.....

HOLY FUCK! THE RAPTURE!

Yup. That miserable, selfish, all-hateful creator had come to my very own home and had taken my family to heaven, body and soul, and had left me behind to fend for myself with all the nasty non-christians. I was devastated. Too devastated to cry even. I just stood in the middle of the living room, probably with my mouth gaping open.

Then I heard a car outside the window. I ran and I cautiously lifted the bottom corner of the curtain and peeked out in case it was a heathen coming to do terrible, unspeakable things to me.

Oh glory be. It was our car and my mother was driving it. I ran to the door and greet her. She apologized over and over again. She had run to the store to get something she needed to finish dinner and thought she would beat me home. I didn't care. I was just so relieved that the rapture hadn't happened.

Two interesting things about that incident:

1. I was so brain-washed at that time that I actually went to bed that night and said a prayer of thanks that the rapture hadn't happened without me and then I asked the lord [he is my saviour] into my heart.
2. It never even crossed my mind that the rapture may have still happened but my mom had been left behind too.

Thank Who For What?

I heard one person say,
"That man deserved to die for the horrible things he did to all those people, but they shouldn't have hanged him. That was cruel."

And another,
"He was beligerent at the end and his captors taunted him. I wonder who started it?"

One more,
"I heard they had to execute him before his birthday so he wouldn't be too old to die."

And still another,
"Now that he's dead, they'll make him a saint".

My tongue hurts. It really, really hurts.

Fark 'N Ply

The Perfect Man and I used a well-known company to park our car while we were on vacation. They're great. For about double the price, they'll actually park the car for you and then bring it back from the parking lot when you get back from vacation. It's safe and secure because they have a "well-lit, fenced-in compound".

Of course we still took precautions. We removed any valuables from our car. We only had our cell phones with us so we could each call our children once we got back home. Those we hid from view so that our car wouldn't be broken into. The Perfect Man hid his cell phone in the centre console. I hid mine in the pocket on the door.

So, the compound is well-lot and fenced in. We hid our only valuables from view. Everything is perfect. Right? Would I be positing about it if it were?

When you use valet parking, "Fark 'N Ply" has this policy: They bring your car to the check-out area, they leave the keys in it and the engine running, they leave all the doors unlocked and then they walk away from it. That's right. No security personnel to watch over your car while you're still enroute on the shuttle bus. Not even a security camera, monitored or otherwise.

The Perfect Man's cell phone was missing from the car. We tore that car apart for about 15 minutes looking for it. I should note for the record that, while the Perfect Man and I were tearing the car apart, emptying compartments, moving seats, and searching the trunk, no one tried to stop us or questioned us to see if we were the proper owners of the car.

I kept reassuring the Perfect Man that this was a reputable company and they would stand behind their service. We met with their manager and she told us no less than seven times that they have a "no liability" policy and she showed us where that was printed on their exit receipt and on their claim form. She showed us that at least three times. Then she offered us a "good faith" offer of $100.00 toward the replacement of the cell phone. The cell phone that's about three months old. The Perfect Man and I said we were not agreeing to anything and we left and said we'd be in touch.

We cancelled the cell phone service and the phone company confirmed that no charges had been made on the cell phone, which confirmed to us that the cell phone had just been taken from the car.

We replaced the cell phone and sent the bill to the manager and told her that our position is that we did not sign a waiver and if we did inadvertantly sign a waiver - we had no knowledge of the waiver or what it meant. Also, their employee acted negligently when they left the car open and running. We said we would not accept less than replacement value for the phone.

I'll let you all know the outcome.

That's My Mama - Part II

I received a lovely wrap from The Perfect Man's sister for Christmas. It's lime green and anyone who knows me knows...I love lime green.

Once back at my house, my mother says, "It's a runner."

"What?" I asked.

"It's a runner. You can use it on your kitchen table".

We playfully argued for a bit because I was sure it was a wrap. However, I trusted my mom. She has more years on me and more wisdom about such things. Boxing Day dawned and I placed the "runner" on my kitchen table. I tried it this way and that, sideways, lengthwise, you name it. Nothing looked right. Then I noticed that I had the label facing up. I went to turn it yet again but stopped to actually read the label.

It said, "Pashmina". For those of you who don't know, a pashmina is .... a wrap.