New Year’s Eve; whoop-tee-do

It’s New Year’s Eve; I’m working this afternoon and evening 2:00 until 7:00 when the store closes. Luckily, they aren’t open until the usual 9:00 p.m. Not that I care about working New Year’s Eve, I don’t, but it still would be more depressing to work until 9:00.

Closing shift in the bakery means cleaning the entire bakery, utensils and floors. This afternoon will be very busy with cakes, breads and all the little goodies in the display case. My counterpart cake person will be there until 5:00 along with my boss, who also leaves at 5:00.

These two people are mad and bitchy all the time: its part of their personalities. Working together they have perfected one, long continuous bitch that ebbs and flows between them. Make the tiniest mistake and they give each other meaningful, silent-groan looks that says, “she’s useless”.

daffy

I’ve learned to live with this. First of all, I try not take it personally because they are just like that. Secondly; So glad I work on cash, too, with a different set of people who are nice, seem to like me and don’t think I’m incompetent. I’m starting to be friendly with people from other departments who can smile and say ‘hello!’. It seems their reputations for being bitches are well known amongst co-workers and customers, too.

Another thing I’ve realized about them is they have not had it bad enough in life to know this: what they are mad about is nothing.  A minor irritation, perhaps, but not finger-wagging, spitting anger. They haven’t had enough loss or heartache to see how good they have it.

So I’m going in, in a good mood which really pisses them off, and feel just fine about cleaning and mopping then going home alone on New Year’s Eve. To tell the truth; its less depressing than staying home all evening.

On my last shift I made a tray of chocolate fudge bar cakes and a  ‘Frozen’ theme cake; air-brushing a cake with pink and blue then drawing on mountains and trees with coloured icing. Yeah, it’s a tough job but somebody’s got to do it.

Now I’m going to prepare my home for my own home-coming tonight. It’s the last night for the Christmas tree; the decorations come down tomorrow when I start a new year. I’ve lived on my own long enough to have my own traditions.

Last year at this time I didn’t have a job and was worried about how hard I could work. It was a tough beginning but in a few weeks it will be one year since I was hired. Now I have two jobs in the same place with totally different people. This job has given me security and validity. That’s means feeling good about doing absolutely nothing on my day off. I earned it! In fact, I have three days off after tonight!

So, yeah……. I’m OK working on New Year’s Eve!

 

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A Bird In The Hand

I missed this prompt but just read this today…. twice. so funny I had to share.

A lot from Lydia

It was another day in paradise, that is if paradise was as cold as a witches tit. The Windy City, Chi town in the dead of winter, and I had been up since the crack of dawn. No one was going to say I was asleep at the wheel. Besides, someone had to bring home the bacon. I had mouths to feed, and for me, it was another day another dollar. I keep my nose to the grind stone, and that’s the only reason I don’t come up a day late and a dollar short. I’m not crying over spilt milk, my job is better than a kick in the teeth, and I’m not about to bite the hand that feeds me.

Let’s get to the business at hand, I was a beat cop with an axe to grind. I was on the lookout for a hit man with a…

View original post 263 more words

Modern Spirituality

I recently saw a couple of very funny things on TV that weren’t meant to be funny at all. I have to admit to watching some very shallow, mindless TV shows but I enjoy making fun of shallow, mindless people in the privacy of my home.

One show is “The Great Christmas Light Fight”.  While I do like Christmas lights, these displays are over the top. They are pure Americana. Any Canadians doing this are participating in Americana, in my humble opinion, but I am fascinated by the work that goes into them and the final display.

The ones that really have me in awe, mouth hanging open, are the ones that incorporate Jesus into them.  One family sang, “Jesus is here!” with their hands held open while lights danced on their ecstatic faces.  Another had a long, arch over the whole display with “Jesus is the Reason for the Season” written in lights, flashing.

I wonder what Jesus would say?

The other incident was the reason I’m writing this post. (I’ve been chuckling to myself for a couple of days and need to share this with people who get it.)

It was on The Millionaire Matchmaker. (? Don’t ask me why I like to hate it…) This is a show about millionaires getting set-up by a matchmaker with attractive women who want to marry millionaires and they all get to be on TV so that ought to tell you something of their characters.

Two sat down for a get-to-know-you chat;

She: “I’m a very spiritual person.”

He: “You must be really proud of yourself!”

She: “I AM!”

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Th..Th… That’s Spirituality, Folks!

Monica’s Aprons

June Cleaver

Since I own my house, I though I could make enough money to live on with a small home based business. First I made lamps but quickly found out I would have to sell them for a lot of money: they would have to be a work of art to pay that much but they weren’t. They were very nice but not worth hundreds of dollars.

One day I read an article about the ‘comeback’ of aprons. It featured Sugar Baby Aprons. They created a new image to make them popular again.

sugar baby

That clicked right away because I always use an apron and wonder why they went out of style. They are practical, not stylish. I really think it has something to do with the disdain for domesticity that happened around the 1960’s. Aprons represented an image women didn’t want anymore…… so they stained their clothing when they cooked.

I started Monica’s Aprons. (You can like me on Facebook)

https://www.facebook.com/monicas.aprons?ref=br_rs

The best part was buying fabric and patterns.  Anyone who sews nowadays knows that it’s actually more expensive to make something than buy it already made; nice fabric is expensive and cheap fabric is too ugly for anyone to want. I looked for sales and deals wherever I could. I bought tablecloths at thrift shops.

It started out pretty good but once my friends, family and their friends had all the aprons they needed, sales slowed down. I’ve had some orders on-line from Facebook and Etsy but I discovered I would have to make more aprons than I could physically make to pay the bills. I would have to be at my sewing machine day and night trying to get at least one a day done. That’s if I could get enough customers.

At this age I don’t have the drive or the stamina to work long hours and keep a house. It’s really hard to work at home when you always have something else to do first.  By the late afternoon I’m tired; get cranky, testy and make mistakes.

When I saw aprons for $9.00 at the grocery store made with as nice fabric as I can buy; made in China, I knew it was time to give up.

In comparison; working part time, 3 or 4 days a week covers my bills and eases anxiety immensely. This means far less hot-flashing.

But when I look at my pile of fabric worth hundreds of dollars, I feel dejected. Even more than when I look at all the lamp parts and lampshade skeletons I have.

Working for yourself is not easy!

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “The Object of My Dejection.”

My NFW list

What are the top items on your anti-bucket list — those things you never, ever want to do, places you never want to visit, books you never want to read, etc.?

My first thought, right away; every time I see a commercial with one of those huge cruise ships, ten stories high I say, “N.F.W.”  I don’t say the letters, I say the words.

The only worse than being on a gigantic cruise ship, being cajoled into gluttony, excess and constant ‘entertainment’ would be to be on a gigantic Disney cruise ship.

The other  NFW is those fancy claws that are so popular now. I really hate them. I don’t hate much but I really do hate those long decorated finger nails. I dislike nail polish to begin with and don’t even get me started on toe nail polish but I might possibly wear clear or opalescent for a fancy occasion.  I will never wear those fake, decorated talons. Pppffffffft!

I admit I don’t read many books anymore so I wouldn’t waste my time on “Fifty Shades of Grey”.  S+M is not for me. I lived with someone who ordered me around so it just pisses me off.  Some woman wrote that to make a lot of money and she did. Pppffffft! (spit)

Enough curmudgeon-ing! I’m all infused with Christmas spirit and want to get on with my day off.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Kick the Bucket.”

The Other Side

Whenever there is a conflict it’s important to try to understand the both points of view. This video was made for that purpose.

I understand, now the concept of the beach connection between Kettle and Stony Point. To many outsiders they are just “the Indians” so they can’t see a community divided.

aerial KP

At the beginning of WW 2 the First Nations allowed the military to use Stony Point as a military training camp with the agreement they would return it after the war was over. All the residents of Stony Point were moved onto Kettle Point. Some were left displaced as they were refugees from reserves that had shrunk or disappeared from Southern Ontario and had no family ties on Kettle Point; no families to move in with.

Now you take any group of human beings, anywhere on this planet, push them all into a smaller place and there’s going to be trouble; family feuds and such. By the 1990’s the grandchildren of the displaced Stony Point families were busting the get their ancestral land back and make a home.

The land has been returned. The army barracks are now makeshift homes. There is a barricade around the entire place. You must enter by a gated, manned entrance and will only be let in if you are a band member. Many Kettle Point residents don’t go there….. it’s ‘Stony’. The family feuds are still strong; Chief Tom Bressette isn’t allowed in. It’s anarchy. I read this morning that the Peoples at Stony were not told about the barriers coming down.  So are Tom Bressette’s motives pure? Or is this a power play? That remains to be seen.

A great healing needs to take place within the community. Many see the opening of the beach, to drive between the two reserves, as doing that; connecting the communities. Now, taking the Lakeshore Parkway that is lined with cottages doesn’t give that connective feel. I understand that.

But there is still the issue of wanting to have a beach that vehicles can’t drive on. The land owners of this stretch of land could just as easily close the beach to everyone but they don’t. They let the public enjoy it but no cars.

On Sunday there is going to be a protest but now I’m not sure if I’m going. The landowners are going to come with their deeds that say they own to “the water’s edge”. I think that’s enough. I’m not sure confrontation is the way to go here.

But I wish they would promote a “Walk the Beach” campaign and encourage the residents of Kettle and Stony Point to take the walk between the two reserves and experience it the way their ancestors did.

One day I was walking on the beach and three eagles flew out from Kettle Point, over my head, went to Stony Point then disappeared into the woods there. That is a healing experience.

I wish this for all of us.

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Insidious Racism

I can’t believe how many hidden racists there are. Since this Ipperwash incident happened I’ve been hearing racist comments at work and I’m going home furious. People who would never use the ‘n’ word don’t think twice about saying racial slurs against First Nations peoples. It makes me sick. I’d had two encounters with three mindless people who say dumb things just out of habit. They don’t know any native people and know nothing of the history. Sheer ignorance.

I’ve driven home twice so angry. I thought about a friend saying, “that’s not good for your blood pressure”.  That night I went home and Googled “racism in the work place” and how to deal with it. Something jumped out at me, “Don’t let them get you angry and raise your blood pressure”

I think that was a message. I was going to ask the owners to post a memoramdum that racism wouldn’t be tolerated in the work place. Yesterday they weren’t there and nobody said anything.

Time’s up. I had so much more to rant aboot, too!

 

today’s prompt;  set a timer for ten minutes. Write without pause (and no edits!) until you’re out of time. Then, publish what you have (it’s your call whether or not to give the post a once-over).

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/ready-set-done-7/

A Cold Day at the Beach

Yesterday I went to walk along Ipperwash Beach in protest of the recent developments. I live in a strip on land between two First Nations reserves. The beach on that land has been closed to vehicles since the 70’s but a couple of days ago the natives asserted their rights by removing the barriers that kept cars and trucks off the beach.  They say that this is their traditional travelling route and they weren’t included in the decision to put the barriers up.

I expected to see other people on the beach but there was no one. It was cold but sunny. The wind off the lake cuts right through your clothing so I had fleece with nylon over and was quite comfortable. It was desolate and beautiful. Until a truck drove by.

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I walked up and down the beach and saw only one other person walking. There were about 4 or 5 trucks. One truck stopped and joked around with me at first but then it got tense; they called the guy who made the barrier a “scared, little man and a racist”  Then he hit the gas and sped away, angrily.

I wouldn’t be surprised if it was him who wanted assert himself by the barrier;

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I walked all the way to Kettle Point then turned back, returning to the barrier to see if anyone was there. They waves were high and noisy so I didn’t hear a car coming up very fast behind me until it was almost beside me. It scared the hell out of me; it was going way too fast.

I sat on the picnic table for a while, then went up to my friends cottage.

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People were coming and going; someone said there was a sign up that said, “No Indians allowed” on West Ipperwash Road.

That’s how ugly this is getting. Disappointment is too weak of a word to describe how I feel. It’s a big, fat hurting disappointment.  There were three of us women, all who have ties in the community and deep respect for native tradition; who felt the same way; We want to be fighting with the natives in preserving our earth, not against them.

Now, in the natives eyes, we are the racist whites. That’s what I saw in the eyes of the guy in the truck; he didn’t know me at all but saw me as one of ‘them’ just because I’m white.

Today I’m going to counter all this negativity by putting up my Christmas Tree; it’s a pagan tradition. I’m done talking about this….. for now.

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Tension at Ipperwash

If you follow my blog you will know I’ve written about the Ipperwash Inquiry and some the racial tension between natives and ‘cottagers’. (Yeah, we all know that means white people.)

https://monicleblog.wordpress.com/2014/10/05/little-town-of-strangers/

Well, tension has returned at Ipperwash.   Two days ago Chief Tom Bressette took it upon himself to get some bulldozers and take down the barriers that prevented cars from driving on the beach.

Yesterday a home-made barrier went up at a friends house and he ended up on the news. I work with his wife. She came into work but broke down in tears; the fighting and yelling, dealing with police, and now fear of reprisals are weighing heavily on her. They sent her home.

http://london.ctvnews.ca/cottager-erects-barricade-on-ipperwash-beach-1.2136155

After my shift was over I was in the lunch/locker room when another Ipperwash resident, a cashier, came in and started on ‘the trouble’.  Then she said, “They just want something for nothing. If they would just get jobs then they wouldn’t have the time to do this.”  I couldn’t believe my ears!  I was in temporary shock, I’m sure my mouth was hanging open,  then Marv jumped in, “Yeah, they gave them free houses to live in up north but they just ripped out the doors and windows and burned them because they were too lazy to go get firewood.”  My head is swimming but I’m gaining momentum;

“The government built some crappy houses and said they could only have them if they didn’t burn wood and used Ontario Hydro. Most of them kept their homes and used all the wood in the government houses for heat.”

I forget what was said next because I said, “I don’t like this conversation, I’m leaving”

I thought I would get that background out first. Today I’m going to the cottage with the barriers and hang around as long as I can. I need to support the beach and my friend.

It’s so sad that I have to protest against what natives are doing.

Out West, fighting the oil pipeline, it makes me happy to see them come out to support Mother Earth. But fighting to drive trucks and cars on the beach when there is a perfectly good road that’s runs along it, is wrong. Trucks bring motor boats and jet ski’s; air and noise pollution.

So I’m going today to stand up for Ipperwash Beach and for Mother Earth.

Right Now

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” — Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities      When was the last time that sentence accurately described your life?

That would be Now.

The scale of ‘good’ and ‘bad’ lives on this planet is so wide it’s hard to place mine on a scale. Some people have such terrible lives of poverty, hardship and abuse while others are incredibly wealthy, beautiful and coddled. Most of us live in the vast area of mediocrity.

It’s the worst of times because I never intended to be so alone at 62. I always wanted a family but couldn’t have children and didn’t adopt. By the time I realized I was never going to have any, I knew our marriage was not good for a child. I stayed invested in the bad marriage as so many women did.  Instead of seeing him as controller of my life I saw him as my best friend.  Now I have neither best friends nor children.

I started over again and I’m working in a grocery store for minimum wage. I don’t have enough energy to work full-time and look after a house but part-time barely pays my bills.

When I see married couples that are retired, enjoying their grandchildren and travelling, I feel betrayed by my ex. It physically hurts my heart.

But it’s the best of times, too. I own my own house with a propane furnace and a wood stove (not together!). My ex ruled that we could only have wood heat so we woke up cold, came home to a cold house, and had cold floors all winter. Now the house heats up as I lie in my warm bed. Then I get up and start a fire.

This house also boasts a flushing toilet. Many of you take that for granted but I do not. We had a ‘composting’ toilet that required a lot of unpleasant work and smell. I used to dream of having a flush toilet but that was a “waste of water”. There are millions of people who live without that clean, porcelain bowl to whisk away their waste.

Having no kids and no parents means no worries. Luckily, my sister had children and they had children so I do have a happy family that loves me…. without the worries!

I have no choice but to do whatever I want and what is best for me.

When I remember of how bad it can be; I realize how good I have it now.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/an-extreme-tale/