Hot and Bothered

Boy, do I ever feel like life is giving me the short stick these days.  The girl who is my counterpart at work quit with one days notice. The other girl, who is the main cake decorator is away for 3 days. My boss phoned my on my day off last week and gave me my new schedule; 5 days a week on 7 hour shifts.

The weekend was the usual crazy busy but Monday was even worse.  I was trying my best to re-stock our empty trays but I also had special cake orders. One was a half-slab (which is a very large cake), half chocolate and vanilla, with golf theme. The regular cake decorator left me a picture of how she does it making water out of glaze and blue dye and sand traps out of graham crumbs to make it look like a golf course. On her picture she had “Happy Birthday Harry”.  I finally got it done, (too slow for my boss) then saw the order said “Happy 80th Birthday Harry”. ” FFFUUU…….!” I silently mouthed. I got it in but not centered properly.

I stayed an extra hour making it an 8 hour day with one half hour break.

Yesterday I was still pretty tired and to had drive downtown on a stinking hot day (my car has no air conditioning) for a root canal. Not only was it downtown it was on a one-way street so I had to make sure I approached it the right way or I’d be driving around huge blocks of downtown traffic.  I final got on the damn road, narrow lanes and people driving way too fast, when the traffic stopped. There was a mail truck stopped at mail box with no mail person in sight.  I was third in line behind it as the left lane whizzed past us.  We waited and waited……. finally it was my turn for getting enough break in the traffic to get around it….. still no mail person in sight.

I was so relieved to find the clinic and it’s parking lot I almost felt happy for a moment. But that was fleeting when I found out I had no coverage whatsoever and it was going to cost a lot of money.

I was feeling close to tears as I filled out the health history forms. A delivery person came in, a woman, and started to talk about shopping with the receptionists. “I bought this T-shirt at the Gap for $7 dollars……!” that sort of thing….. but on and on. My mind was starting to say “shut up already”. I finished my forms and took them to the desk.  The delivery woman had a Canada Post shirt on….. the little truck was parked outside the office blocking some poor shmucks like me.

It took 2 hours. Apparently, the whole office had been on vacation the week before. They all talked about where they went and what they did over top of me like I was just a thing. I have to say in my many, many years of dental work, this was the rudest thing I’d ever experienced.

And cost $700. I put in on my credit card….. ouch.  I drove home sweating, with a frozen face and sick over the money.

The only reason I have time to write this is that I went to bed really early to try and get rested. I woke up at 5:30 and tried my best to get back to sleep but couldn’t.

I’m supposed to work all weekend and miss my grand-nieces birthday party. I’m going to beg, BEG to get that day off.

I am off tomorrow….. nothing they can say will make me go in.  I am going to relax, eat and watch TV. Thankfully, I have air conditioning in my house.

Thank You for listening, there may be many mistakes, I don’t have time to edit ….. I have to go to work now.

I Should Not Be So Hard on Myself.

That’s how anxious people torture themselves;  ‘I should……. [be perfect].

When I read this prompt; Tell us about something you know you should do . . . but don’t.   a list of should’s scrolled down in my mind.  They come easily because I repeat them everyday, maybe even several times a day.

I should quit eating so many snacks at night.

I should clean up the hidden piles.

I should eat more salad.

There’s more and worse but I wouldn’t tell you.

I fight against should!  I fight against should because I had it shoved in my face for so many years the old ‘should’ voices still nag in the back of my mind.

When I find myself getting anxious about what I should be doing I stand up and tell myself, “I should be doing what ever the hell I want!”

(except eating too many snacks at night; I really should stop doing that)

Visit- (A SoC prompt)

Today’s Stream of Conciousness prompt is Vis.


It’s my delayed visit to my niece and grandnephew that I’m greatly disappointed about. I always end up working more than scheduled. The week before last, for instance, I started with only 5 hours on my schedule. I was mad!  However, by the time the week ended I had 23.5 hours under my belt. Extra days, stay late, come early….. it adds up.

Last week I had four days off and really wanted to go see my niece in her new house which is a two-hour drive from here. My sister wrote she wanted to go first by herself. Ok, I was disappointed but I understand. I’ll wait a day then go myself. That day she asked me to join her and my grandniece at the beach.  OK, I don’t get many days at the beach and I can go to Kincardine next week.

Yesterday my boss phoned: one of my co-workers quit and he was giving me more hours and days. When he said “Tuesday” I reminded him I had a root canal in London that day.

” aaargh!” he groaned. “That’s my day off. Can you work 7:00 to 10:00 In the morning before you go?”

“NO!…. I have to drive to downtown London and it’s going to be hours!”

“OK, I guess Heather will have to do cakes.  So change your hours to 9:00 to 5:00 Monday and see if you can get all the cake orders done for Tuesday. Wednesday come in 9:00 to 5:00.”

Holy Crap. It all starts tonight; I’m going in 5:00 to 10:00 (although I’m pretty sure he’ll call and ask me to come in early) and working everyday, all day, except the day of my root canal.

By the time Thursday rolls around I will just want to stay home. Another week without visiting.

The Temporary Table

Back when I was painting my kitchen a friend told me I should get a rectangular table to replace the round one I have.

“NO WAY!”  I over-reacted, “That table means a lot to me; it was my parents’.”

She looked at with an expression of bewilderment as why a crappy table like that could mean so much: we must have been poor.

It’s the kind of table you find really cheap at a second-hand shop or yard sale. Black metal pedestal with four plain feet. The top is thick acrylic over gaudy fabric. Its yellowed over the years.


Back when I was a budding adolescent we had a large wooden dining room table with rather large heavy chairs. The set filled the dining room so you had to wiggle sideways to get in the chairs against the wall.  When I was a teenager we moved to a smaller apartment and the set would not fit in at all. My parents decided a round table would be just right.

This was agreed upon with great reluctance because when my parents bought furniture, they fought bitterly. They fought a lot anyway but furniture-buying was a declaration of war.

They would leave with their jaws set and heads held up in determination to get what they want.  They would return with nothing, mad at each other. My mom would run to their bedroom in tears and slam the door: my dad would go out on the balcony for a smoke.

This hunt for a the perfect dining room table was the ‘pink peony’ vs. ‘brown corduroy’ upholstery all over again. That went on for months when they decided to just re-upholster: that way they didn’t have to go pick a new couch……… but they did have to pick out upholstery fabric.

One day they came home with this table. They both hated it but at least they agreed that they both hated it.  It had been marked down several times so it was cheap and was the perfect diameter. My mom sewed and decided she would make table cloths for it. It would give them time until they found the right table.  They found chairs they both liked (!) that didn’t go with the table at all.  Maybe they could find a table to go with the chairs.

I loved going to Fabricland, still do.  Mom would look for very wide fabric so it wouldn’t have seams and made several round tablecloths. She would stitch a tiny little flower, with matching thread so it was barely visible, in the centre to make it easy to center the cloth. They were beautiful. No one knew the table was so cheap and temporary.

They never bought another table. My mom’s MS got worse. My dad died of a heart attack before his retirement.  My mom re-married, moved into Earl’s house, and took her table. She still had some of her old tablecloths and I would look for nice round tablecloths on my travels.

She could pull up to it in a wheel chair in the earlier days and we could eat together but as years went by it became harder for her to sit up and she would have to stay in bed. The table became cluttered with her husbands’ newspapers.

After she died we left all her things there because it was his home and his stuff. We visited him a couple of times but his house became so dirty and cluttered (he refused to let anyone clean it with “poisonous chemicals”) I would gag when I went in so we turned it into ‘picnics’.

He died a few years later. We took two vans loads, two times, filled crap and furniture to clear out my moms things. The crap was piles of stuff that had everything from old newspapers to important papers. We had to go through every thing in case there was something of my mom’s hidden in clutter.

At that time my marriage of 28 years had broken up and I was getting my own place. Of course I took the table and chairs.

I have no plans to replace it.

005(but it still needs a tablecloth)


In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Hand-Me-Downs.”

Tell us about some of the meaningful hand-me-downs in your life.

No Rings Today……


Last week I had to start work at 8:00 a.m. which means getting up at 5:30. For that I set up the alarm. It’s only one hour earlier than I wake up anyway but it still feels like it’s too early.

Not today, although I’m not happy about it.  Today my hours are 2:00 to 10:00. Eight hours. And I have to punch out for an hour for an unpaid lunch. What am I going to do for an hour on a hot Saturday in a crowed beach town? Get rested for the night’s work? I think not. Hopefully it won’t be too hot so I can go to the staff picnic table outside beside the parking lot.

Then I’ll go in for a massive clean-up from a busy Saturday and work until 10:00. I’ll get home tonight at 10:30. Hopefully. The traffic around Grand Bend on a summer weekend is crazy. I have to leave early to take the long way around because it takes too long to drive through town. I might have to take the long way around tonight coming home.

I could wring my boss’s neck for putting me on these hours. Who else works these hours? The two 17 year olds.  I can’t work as hard as a 17 year old! Surprise, surprise!

At least I’m not on tomorrow….. he’s done it to others….. work until 10:00 and be in the next day at 8:00. I have to think that is punishment. It’s the law that you have to have 12 hours before returned for another shift.  That’s barely legal.

However, last weekend my co-worker whispered to me she wanted to get away “so stay close to the phone Sunday”. She’s said that before and hasn’t done it yet but…… please don’t let that phone ring tomorrow.

Why Can’t Life Be Perfect?

I’ve be plodding around here trying to make myself happier. Today I’m making sure I eat a big bowl of active yogurt so my gut won’t make my brain go bad. I definitely feel more ‘down’ when I’ve had too much sugar. Apparently having any sugar is too much sugar these days.

The extra large bowl of yogurt is also necessary because I’ve been on antibiotics for a tooth that needs a root canal. Bummer. I can’t remember the last time I had to take anti-biotics; it’s been years or even a decade or so.

I could go to ‘town’ or even ‘the city’. I have a little savings right now although I’m scared to buy anything ‘just in case’. I’ve been holding on to every dollar for so long its become a habit. A good habit I don’t want to break. I could drive to the nearest city and buy stuff…… I have a list of stuff I need. I could even buy shoes! That used to make me so happy. It’s like a little kid can be happy with a box or a ball, then a young woman can be happy buying something, like shoes.  At this age, the thrill has gone.  Drive to a city and shop?…… sounds tiring and the whole day is shot. Nine times out of ten I go looking for something and don’t find it. Day wasted.  Seriously, I feel more like that is a day wasted than if I just spend it relaxing.

When I was younger I got excited when I could buy treats…. my favourite foods. Now I can buy treats and eat them whenever I want, then feel like crap.  One night I was going to buy ‘something’ at work to take home for dinner…..something delicious….. but what? I couldn’t find anything. (Mind you, I’m vegetarian so there’s not a lot of pre-cooked food for me)  There’s no joy in food anymore. I’ve been satiated. To go to a restaurant I’d have to drive to a city.

All of this boils down to being tired of being alone. I should be happy I have four days off and money in the bank. (Truth be told, I’ve very pissed off that my hours were cut back so much. Another reason I’m scared to spend any money.) Why can’t I just be happy that I’m OK and have four days off? Because I’m always alone. I’d like to go to town with a friend and have fun and talk.  By myself; going to town is just another chore. I want to go to a restaurant and movie but not by myself.

There is so much work here, I need at least a couple of days a week to keep it up, so it’s never like I have nothing to do.  Housework just gets barely done; there’s still some bad areas of clutter. The latest front is clearing the paperwork that’s piled up on my sewing machine. My aim is to get back to sewing when its too hot to work outside. I have piles of fabric from my business venture making aprons.  It’s depressing enough to know it failed and now I have piles of “fun” fabric.

Back in my youth my mom sewed. Any fabric left over my mom would say “Save it for a pop-top!”.  Well, now I have fabric for many pop-tops, and shifts, too!

shifts 1 The Shift

Pop-top on the left.   pop top

See? Lemons to lemonade and all that shit. Scratching my way uphill from the slippery slope of depression.

The weather is adding to it. Cloudy, not rainy, just very damp and cloudy. Working outside yesterday, in my mosquito net, covered in OFF!  was miserable. It’s the same weather today so I might as well go somewhere before I lose my mind. Besides, I’m out of treats.


It Would Be Rude.

Pause whatever you’re doing, and ask the person nearest you what they’re thinking about (call someone if you have to). Write a post based on it.

The nearest person to me, right now, is my next-door neighbour who is in the final stages of lung cancer. It would be unthinkable to phone him or message him and ask him what he’s thinking right now.

Perhaps his wife is closer to me at this moment; I can’t imagine how she feels or what she is going through. He’s so upbeat about it, posting jokes on Facebook and putting on a good front but I’ll bet she lives with someone else.


Many times I’ve looked toward the house and wondered what they are thinking. One night at dusk the sky was a soft orange turning to blue with a single, bright star. It was so beautiful but I felt a stab in my heart to wonder what it would be like to know you’re not going to see that anymore. Its got to be so hard; so sad and scary.

All these people coming to the beach and having fun for the long weekend. Cars driving back and forth in front of his house, filled with healthy, happy people making plans for the future. Being near the border, a lot of Michiganians come here so it’s Canada Day and the Fourth of July. How would it feel to know it was your last one?  Everything is ‘your last time’?

I went to his profile to retrieve this joke he posted and saw all the Canada Day and July 4th jokes and loads of people wishing him well.

No, I can’t imagine what he is thinking and I’m not going to ask.



In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “S/he Said.”

pISsed off!

Is this for real?

ThIS dISgusted and pISssed me off thIS morning. (WordPress; please stop correcting the capital IS)

This whole idea of “doesn’t she look great?!” is so wrong. NO! She doesn’t look great! She doesn’t look 62!  Not a line on her face? C’mon….. how can she be beautiful for her age when she doesn’t look her age?  She spends hours and a small fortune making sure she stays that way.

When are we going to stop doing this? My mom used to say, even when we were young; “look good FOR YOUR AGE.”

On top of that she’s air-brushed and photoshopped. Then they write the article about how she looks like that because of all her hard work and dedication to her looks and body.

(long pause here) Damn, I really wanted those bonus points but I have to go……..  to the beach with my grandnieces! I’m wearing my two-piece proudly with my white belly protruding. (I thing that’s where my ass migrated to)

Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is: “is”  Use the word “is” to begin your post – bonus points for using it (as a word on its own or at the end of your final word, i.e. “metamorphosis”) at the end of your post as well. Have fun!