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Dear Diary – Driving home from my parents at the end of the summer break, I seriously thought my car was falling apart. I heard a loud growling noise, like metal being torn from a building, and the car began to shimmy. In a moment of panic, I feared that it was coming from the semi in front of me, and any second, sheared metal was going to fly at me. Then I had a flashback to my childhood and I recognized the sound. “That’s a jet!” I exclaimed to Little Guy, who rolled his eyes nonchalantly at me (because turning his head was too much work). I knew the Snow Birds were in the neighbourhood, plus my Dad really likes planes and trains, so air shows and rail yards were often part of our summer experience. Sure enough, a fighter jet emerged from the clouds beside my window. A few minutes later, another one passed by. Not the Snow Birds, but still pretty cool!

What isn’t cool is that the shimmy was actually from my car, and I found out today I need new tires. Urgently.

Dear Diary – So once again a cloud hangs over our household. School started for Little Guy last Friday. This year, there’s a whole new stupid format: Classes 1&2 for one week, then Classes 3 & 4 the next week, and alternating like so! It’s a format that would have ruined my academic career. If I had been forced to endure math class for an entire morning or afternoon, I would have been a depleted, discouraged wet dishrag for the remainder of the day.

How to Do Math

1. Write down the problem.

2. Cry.

Little Guy did not get all the courses he requested, and when I saw the schedule I was nervous, especially as he elected to continue school online. Functions, Chemistry, and Drawing are doable, but how does one participate in Drama online?

We were very pleased when his request to change a course was accepted and after a quick phone call and email to confirm with me, the drama dilemma was deleted. At least, until it was time to log in for his new class but he didn’t have the necessary information to log in. He waited until after school to tell me. The school’s auto-dialer called us at dinnertime. Both terribly helpful! He’ll be marked as absent, which hardly seems fair, and worse, I had to call the school! I nearly have a panic attack every time I had contact with the school! I’ve left 2 voicemails and sent 2 email to explain why he had missed class. I should know by now that nothing is simple but crap doodle, I keep hoping!

Dear Diary – There’s obviously a new motorbiker in the neighbourhood. We can hear him practicing as he fumbles with the throttle and motors around the block to the south of us. It’s tolerable during daylight but once the sun is set and my jammies are on, I’m tempted to stick a banana in his pipe. Speaking of tolerable, Thunder Nugget next door is back in school so our days are much sweeter quieter. Even the squirrels have returned to play in the yard and birds sing again…between the hours of 8 and 3. Because there’s a whole lot of thundering and screaming the rest of the time.

Dear Diary – A “Weekend Warrior” is usually applied to a person who participates in an activity full-tilt on weekends. Those guys dressed in skin-tight spandex and pointy helmets on bicycles spring to my mind. But this weekend, I felt like a “weekend warrior” pushing through the pain as I made…chili sauce. It required endurance…to stand for hours chopping cups of onions and peppers. It required dedication… to peel and dice 8 cups of tomatoes. It required courage…to work with chili peppers (from the plant I mistook for a bell pepper but was company for Hubby when I was away during quarantine), not to mention bubbling, boiling water and slippery glass jars. Actually, Hubby braved the hot water for me as I lack the proper equipment and finger strength.

It was a lot of work for 8 jars of sauce I can’t even eat! (by the time I snapped a pic, Hubby had already eaten jar 8. I didn’t even bother canning it).

But I have still have a problem? I bought two 4-quart baskets of tomatoes…and I only used one. What do I do with these tomatoes?

Dear Diary – I recently had a friend betray my trust and I had to step back from the relationship completely. Which sucked! This week, we were finally able to reconnect and I’m hoping that the time apart will change some of the unhealthy dynamics that have been developing over time. I wasn’t sure how to speak up without creating an emotional hullabaloo. Neither of us has the emotional energy for it. Hopefully this is a new beginning, and I am certainly more prepared to set boundaries and stick with them.

A friend loves at all times.

Proverbs 17:17a

Dear Diary – I saw my rheumatologist today, for less than 5 minutes. With the exception of face masks, it felt normal – he was still running late (I really don’t understand how he can always be running late when he only sees patients for 5 minutes, and his office is never full). With covid restrictions, only 3 are allowed in the waiting room and I was #4. I had to wait outside and watch for someone to leave. I found a clean bench in the sun and watched the door. After 10 minutes, one person went in but no one came out. Apparently I was the only one asked to wait outside! Anyway, in those 5 minutes he toyed with the idea of sending me for an MRI on my frozen shoulder. I told him I’m claustrophobic…

So I won’t be going for an MRI and we’ll reassess next March when I meet him again, for another riveting 5 minutes of my life! 🙂

Dear Diary – I was in a store recently when the need to use the restroom arose. I was already feeling uneasy and way too warm, but I made my way to the tiny room at the back of the store. Trying my best not to touch anything, I caught myself actually holding my breath. How lovely would it be if I passed out in the stall, panties around my ankles, skirt around my ears, and my face pressed up against the grungy floor?!?!

I talked myself through my ministrations and stepped up to the sink. It was one of those sensor types but apparently, the sensor couldn’t sense me. I commenced the gentle fingertip wave while giving it my best “I’m not impressed” face. But nothing happened. I sighed and waited for the lady at the other sink to stop playing finish up. At least I don’t have to wait for her to fix her lipstick! I moved to the other sink and commenced the gentle fingertip wave. This time it worked and I nodded “good job” to the tap.

It wasn’t the first time I felt invisible!!

Next I moved on the hand dryer, also a sensor, which worked satisfactorily for the lady ahead of me. I wiggled my fingers under the sensor. Nothing happened. I wiggled harder. Still, nothing happened. I swiped right. I swiped left. I growled, “come on” and waved my hands like I was cooling a loaf of bread. Still nothing happened. I started waving and jabbing like a bad disco dancer, engaging not just my hands but both arms, and my legs…my whole body.

It was then that I noticed a small, birdlike woman standing at the sinks, staring at me with frightened eyes. I never heard her come in. I smiled under my mask, shrugged my shoulders, and wiping my fingers on my skirt, exited the tiny room.

I was barely 2 feet out the door when I heard the gentle purr of the hand dryer.

Dear Diary – I was joking when I threw down the gauntlet. I posted a Facebook memory of my Mud Hero run and asked “who’s with me for next year?”. I had 2 people say “I’m in”! Big Guy is also keen; I’m sure, like mothers after childbirth, he’s forgotten the intense pain and suffering. Little Guy has also been very keen for a number of years. I suggested that we train together this year, knowing full well that I could back out at the last minute and who would blame me? I’m keen too, but while the spirit is willing, the flesh is telling me I’m certifiably insane. Actually, the spirit just piped up in agreement with the flesh. I might just be in a heap of trouble.

But I have heard that mud is good for the skin.