let me just say that this magical universe seems to have its twisted little heart set on stopping me from giving gifts this christmas.
this past weekend J and i decided to take advantage of our visit to vancouver and do some Big City christmas shopping. at the end of the day we emerged from our final stop to find the window in his car smashed and all of our presents, groceries, back packs (including our clothes, toiletries, etc.) gone.
so, in the sort of cavalier moment that shock often inspires in me, i ran into the adjacent alley way to crawl around in the rainy darkness amongst the used needles, condoms, and broken glass behind the dumpsters and under cars. i even, probably very foolishly, woke up a sleeping street person to ask if he knew where my cash box was -- the one i use at all my fairs, and that contained all of my sales records for the year. he didn't.
this messy half-an-hour did yield our clothing and savoury groceries (no sweet ones, interestingly) and my prized cash-box (emptied of cash, of course), but no presents. when i mentioned this to a friend later that evening she said that i must feel so violated, but honestly i don't. i just feel poor, because i can't afford to replace all the gifts.
but the plot thickens! right after being burgled (a word i adore, by the way), j had to go back over to victoria. i went about my business for the next few days in vancouver and even re-purchased some of the less expensive items that had been stolen, and then set out for victoria myself.
i unloaded my many boxes left over from the craft fair i had done onto my dolly, along with all of the new, precious presents, and headed for the ferry terminal when a sudden, invisible bump up-ended the whole cart and the gifts went flying all over the rainy street. a wonderfully helpful, but, it turns out, freakishly iron-fisted old man came running over to help me and happily busied himself with mangling each of my soggy gifts in his crushing paws before cramming them quickly into the box i held. he was very cheerfully and benevolently destructive, though, and heart-breakingly kind to come and help at all, but i give up: everyone gets oranges and fingerknitting in their stocking this year, and that's all.
Thursday, December 23, 2004
Sunday, December 19, 2004
stink bugs
the other day i got an email from our landlords, whose backyard abuts ours, asking us to park our van completely in front of our house, because they find the sight of the three feet of van visible to them through our two backyards obtrusive.
now, our van may be a 1979 dodge, but it's rust-free, and has an even (if bright) yellow coat of new paint, and jaunty blue advertising for J's company. it isn't pretty like, say, a jaguar's pretty, but it's in good repair, and, what's more, it's none of anyone else's business. the street allows for public parking, no permits required. in fact, all the streets in our neighbourhood are the same, meaning that we could, legally, park in front of our landlord's house Every Day of the Year if we felt like it.
we could even park in front of their house, remove the van's tires, prop it up on blocks, and spray-paint: THIS IS OBTRUSIVE on the side of the van in fluorescent paint, legally.
but we will restrain ourselves.
what i want to know is how far landlords' rights extend over their tenants. i mean, my landlady, who is scarcely older than i am, has terrible taste -- in decorating and in shoes (and who knows what else?), so, can i write her an email about it? can i tell her that the colours she has used in her house, that seem verily to jump out at me from across our lawns in the evening through her un-curtained windows, speak to me of an ignorant-suburbanite-recently-come-into -money-trying-to-rise-above-herself-by-following-advice-in-boring- home-decorating-magazines-found-in-grocery-stores, and therefore offend me?
can i tell our other next-door neighbour that his fiance's fake tits don't conform to my values and ask him if he would please turn her around in my presence so i don't have to look at them?
it sounds absurd, of course, but i feel like our landlords are basically asking the same thing of us. the main difference is that we're poor, and they aren't. if we were driving a canary yellow lexus SUV, i doubt they would care where we parked it, and it freaks me out because it makes me feel like they value affluence in others. like maybe even right along with things like honesty, reliability, kindness and generosity -- you know, attributes of good character?
but affluence has nothing to do with character. affluence is not a value.
it gives me the creeps.
i don't know. maybe i'm wrong and that isn't what they're doing. i'd love to be wrong. maybe our landlady was menaced by nightmares involving yellow vans as a child, who knows.
now, our van may be a 1979 dodge, but it's rust-free, and has an even (if bright) yellow coat of new paint, and jaunty blue advertising for J's company. it isn't pretty like, say, a jaguar's pretty, but it's in good repair, and, what's more, it's none of anyone else's business. the street allows for public parking, no permits required. in fact, all the streets in our neighbourhood are the same, meaning that we could, legally, park in front of our landlord's house Every Day of the Year if we felt like it.
we could even park in front of their house, remove the van's tires, prop it up on blocks, and spray-paint: THIS IS OBTRUSIVE on the side of the van in fluorescent paint, legally.
but we will restrain ourselves.
what i want to know is how far landlords' rights extend over their tenants. i mean, my landlady, who is scarcely older than i am, has terrible taste -- in decorating and in shoes (and who knows what else?), so, can i write her an email about it? can i tell her that the colours she has used in her house, that seem verily to jump out at me from across our lawns in the evening through her un-curtained windows, speak to me of an ignorant-suburbanite-recently-come-into -money-trying-to-rise-above-herself-by-following-advice-in-boring- home-decorating-magazines-found-in-grocery-stores, and therefore offend me?
can i tell our other next-door neighbour that his fiance's fake tits don't conform to my values and ask him if he would please turn her around in my presence so i don't have to look at them?
it sounds absurd, of course, but i feel like our landlords are basically asking the same thing of us. the main difference is that we're poor, and they aren't. if we were driving a canary yellow lexus SUV, i doubt they would care where we parked it, and it freaks me out because it makes me feel like they value affluence in others. like maybe even right along with things like honesty, reliability, kindness and generosity -- you know, attributes of good character?
but affluence has nothing to do with character. affluence is not a value.
it gives me the creeps.
i don't know. maybe i'm wrong and that isn't what they're doing. i'd love to be wrong. maybe our landlady was menaced by nightmares involving yellow vans as a child, who knows.
Wednesday, December 08, 2004
mrs. tittlemouse
we just moved into a new house. it's a post war bungalow and it's turning me into a susie-homemaker. i'm on the verge of buying a cake platter and a candy dish.
all i've done since moving in are cook and clean and smile fondly. this morning i made christmas nuts'n'bolts -- and what says '50's housewife' more than savoury recipes involving packaged dry cereal? i think the ghosts of Housewives Past are gently nudging me along with their dustpans. when the step-bug arrived home for lunch today, i had a cheese and (soy) luncheon meat sandwich ready on the table for him along with a bowl of tomato soup from the can.
this morning i also bought a christmas tree, but passed on the opportunity to have it delivered. there was, though, i admit, a moment where i indulged in the fantasy of shopping in heels and a hat -- gloves and pocket book in one hand, pointing at the things i want with the other so that the scurrying grocery boy behind me could grab them and put them in my delivery box.
to redeem myself in my own mind i lugged the tree home by myself, on foot, in a rain storm.
but we're all very interested to see how long this possession of mine will carry on. so far, all the cooking and fussing are a pleasure and don't feel contrived in the least, leading one to wonder if, at last, i've finally found my calling.
mind you, the glass doorknobs, marbled linoleum floor and arborite counters really do make it all easy. easy to hum and scrub, easy to bake and pinch, easy to greet your sweetheart at the door in nothing but an apron and a wink.
all i've done since moving in are cook and clean and smile fondly. this morning i made christmas nuts'n'bolts -- and what says '50's housewife' more than savoury recipes involving packaged dry cereal? i think the ghosts of Housewives Past are gently nudging me along with their dustpans. when the step-bug arrived home for lunch today, i had a cheese and (soy) luncheon meat sandwich ready on the table for him along with a bowl of tomato soup from the can.
this morning i also bought a christmas tree, but passed on the opportunity to have it delivered. there was, though, i admit, a moment where i indulged in the fantasy of shopping in heels and a hat -- gloves and pocket book in one hand, pointing at the things i want with the other so that the scurrying grocery boy behind me could grab them and put them in my delivery box.
to redeem myself in my own mind i lugged the tree home by myself, on foot, in a rain storm.
but we're all very interested to see how long this possession of mine will carry on. so far, all the cooking and fussing are a pleasure and don't feel contrived in the least, leading one to wonder if, at last, i've finally found my calling.
mind you, the glass doorknobs, marbled linoleum floor and arborite counters really do make it all easy. easy to hum and scrub, easy to bake and pinch, easy to greet your sweetheart at the door in nothing but an apron and a wink.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)