Dear diary – On Friday, the Canadian Snowbirds passed by. My aunt called from the city to let us know they were on the way. I was getting dressed, so I rushed from my room while throwing on some leggings (realizing too late that the front window curtains were open). I threw on my winter coat too, so I could watch them fly by from the back porch. Dad, who works at a flying club, had his radio with him so we heard when they had passed the airport. Between their more southerly route and the cloud cover, only Dad caught a glimpse of their trail disappearing behind our neighbours’ roof. But we heard them! Meanwhile Little Guy had stumbled from his bedroom to an empty house and he thought he’d been missed in the rapture.
That afternoon we went for a nature walk with my aunt. It started to snow. Mom denied it. She kept calling it pollen. By dinner time, the deck and chairs were covered thickly with styrofoam
snow pollen balls. The snow pollen was so thick by bedtime, we couldn’t see across the fields.
Dear diary – Everything was still covered with snow pollen so I put on my day jammies and settled on the couch for the day! It was the safest place to be. Dad is feeding his own sourdough starter and he baked bread and buns today. Sometimes there’s a territorial clash in the kitchen with Mom.
Dear diary – The bodies are piling up and I’m tired of disposing of the corpses. Sometimes I’ve found the living hiding among the dead in a desperate attempt to survive the massacre. They crouch among the garbage, among the shadows, hiding in cracks and crevices. I feel like a sniper, this kind of hunting requiring patience and stamina, body tense as I wait… Mom wintered her plants in the dining room and the ants appeared as soon as the sun grew warmer. Some might call me “heartless”. What can I say? War is hell! And I don’t share chocolate cake with anyone. You want a piece of me, punk?!
Dear diary – Little Guy brought me toaster strudel and tea “in bed” for Mother’s Day. Why the ” “? Because he crashed through the bedroom door with a chip on his shoulder the size of a dump truck, dropped the meal on the night stand and cleared out like he was being chased by a mom looking for a big hug! It’s the thought that counts! Breakfast in bed is nice in theory, but sitting in a dark room, alone, isn’t much fun. So Mom brought her tea and cheerios in and sat at the other end. Much better! We watched my home church service online (and the Brady Bunch worship team I was in). I made homemade lasagna, and spent the evening watching Alfred Hitchcock movies. Happy Mother’s Day!
Dear Diary – I humiliated myself publicly again, on Youtube, but it was for the kids! And really, who am I trying to impress? Different members of our church have been recording stories for kids, and it was my turn. I revived an old character, my nerdy girl, Ima Victor! It would have been better with Captain Gary!
I recorded in the bathtub and Little Guy provided the special effects. I wonder if this story will make a big splash…
Dear diary – They lied. And then they lied again and again, and again. First, they said my first package would arrive Tuesday, then Monday, then Tuesday, then Wednesday…by Wednesday afternoon, the online tracker just said “delivery delayed”. Meanwhile, my second package, which shipped 2 days after the first, was scheduled to arrive Wednesday. I have been sitting in the front window, staring at the road, watching for that brown delivery van. Thank goodness for my emergency chocolate bar!
After multiple attempts, I finally joined the cue on the UPS “hotline”. They told me it would be a 20-25 minutes wait. They lied. At minute 35, the phone started to die and I had to sprint to the bedroom for another. At minute 51, my Dad’s birthday dinner started and I was still tied to the phone listening to obnoxiously perky muzak with no definable tune and no end. I’m sure they were hoping I’d give up but I’m tenacious.
I waited 65 minutes before I got a live person. I explained my situation and my frustration carefully and calmly, recognizing that the poor girl on the other end really had no means with which to remedy situation. I didn’t rip into her when she suggested I look up my delivery details online, which was one of the reasons I called in the first place. But when I said the packages were my birthday presents, her tone changed. I could tell she felt bad that my delivery had been changed 5 times, so she sent an email to the “powers that be” with my cell #. It’s supposed to arrive today.
I’m not holding my breath.
Every day that … truck comes through here delivering important things to important people. Someday it’s going to stop here, and when that day comes, then we – and by we, I mean me – will be important. – Robert K. Bowfinger