Day 3. The Vessel

Today's exercise is ... The Vessel: Write about a journey on a ship.

Hm, okay, writing about a journey on a ship. That’s a problem, I’ve never been on a ship. Will a boat do?

Way back when I was a teenager, my family and I were vacationing in Italy. One fine day it was decided that we would visit Capri. My late dad wouldn't hear of it, Capri is an island and the only way to get there was by boat. Dad didn’t like boats, because he hated, hated, hated, water.

But we weren’t alone, my late parents traveled with two other couples and their children and they made it their mission to get dad on a boat come hell or high water. To cut a long story short, dad eventually gave in. He looked at all the ships in the marina of Sorrento (where our hotel was) and figured those ships looked sturdy enough for him to be okay. So he gave the green light.

On the morning of our excursion to Capri dad got a bit of a surprise though … those big ships didn't go to Capri, only little boats did, boats that held a maximum of 12 people. “This isn’t a boat,” dad exclaimed, “this is a banana peel!” It took considerable persuasion, but eventually dad decided to risk it and stepped onto the boat where he got a second surprise … the boat had a glass bottom.

While all of us were mesmerized looking down at the fishes swimming in the clear blue water, dad sat rigid on the bench. He didn’t want to see no fishes, he didn’t want to see no water.

It got even worse as the boat pulled out to sea. At first we traveled at a gentle speed, the shipper allowing us to marvel at the blue water and the variety of fish, but at some point he ‘put foot down’ and the boat raced forward, bouncing up and down on the ever increasing waves.

Dad, as white as a sheet, started to look a little green around the gills. “Oeh” he groaned each time the boat hit the water, “Oeh, we’re gonna die. I know we’re gonna die. We’re not gonna make it.”

No sooner had we made it to Capri than we transferred from one boat into another, this time to go visit the blue grotto. This second boat was really worthy of the name banana peel. Only six people fitted in it and dad wasn’t going to be one of them. “No way,” he said, “you can go see the blue grotto without me. I’m staying right here.” Nothing and nobody could persuade him. So off we went without him.

As we arrived at the entrance of the blue grotto it became apparent why only banana peel boats undertook this journey … the opening of the grotto was so low no regular boat would have fitted.

Those of us who had their misgivings soon overcame their fear when they witnessed the magnificence of the grotto. It was a unique experience.

When we got back to Capri and told dad about what he had missed at the blue grotto he nodded “I’ll take your word for it.” When we got back to Sorrento he went inside a church and lit a candle for Saint Nicolas (patron saint of sailors). He never set foot on a boat again. 

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Day 2: The unrequited love poem

It’s only the second day of this writing project and I’ve hit a snag already. Today's exercise being:
The unrequited love poem. How do you feel when you love someone who does not love you back.

Writing a poem about unrequited love … that’s not gonna work. Not that I can’t write a poem, I can rhyme with the best of them, but writing about love … no, that doesn’t suit me at all. I don’t believe in love.

People may love each other when they first meet, and love each other again when they’re in their golden years, but the years in-between can be hell on wheels. Why else would the divorce rate stand at over 50%?

I’m probably so cynical because I was married. We had a wonderful wedding and a romantic honeymoon, but 18 years later we had an even more wonderful divorce.

I sometimes wonder if men and women really suit each other. I mean, think about it. When two people meet and fall in love, they want to spend all their time together. No sooner are they married or everything changes. Maybe not in the first year, maybe not in the second, but eventually.

Men will start to pull on the reigns and want to spend time with their friends. They’ll want to go to sports events with their buddies, they want to go drinking with them, or do something else that takes him away from home. Maybe they’ll get lucky and meet someone who is after some casual adult fun. All too often I hear men refer to their wives as ‘The old ball and chain.’

Women are no better. They want to go shopping with their girlfriends, have lunches here and there, go to spas, go clubbing, and generally have a good time. Going shopping with a man is no fun, they just don’t have the interest to admire shoes, rifle through lipsticks, or try different perfumes. And yes, of course, there are those ladies who wouldn’t mind a bit of casual adult fun too.

So why get married in the first place? What drives people to bind themselves to others? Do they really think that a ceremony will make the other person stay ‘until death do them part’? Of course not. If the relationship is good, a man or a woman will stay, if the relationship goes south, they will leave. A marriage certificate isn’t going to change that.

Sometimes I wonder why people are so keen to get married anyway. I can understand why a man wants to get married, once he has a wife he no longer has to go looking for sex or pay for it, but it’s quite a bit different for a woman. Unless the couple can afford outside help, once married a whole heap of responsibilities land onto a woman’s shoulders: cleaning the house, doing the shopping, cooking the meals, washing and pressing clothes, and 101 other things. Then when the kids come along, her responsibilities double or even triple.

No, I don’t understand this keenness on finding a man and entering into marriage. I’ve been there and done that and I can say one thing for very, very sure … NEVER AGAIN!!! So if you’re waiting for an unrequited love poem … you’ll wait a long, long time.

Day 1: Outside the Window

They say that writers should write every day to become better at their craft. I suppose they’re right, but it’s not always easy thinking of a topic to write about. Which is why I was pleased to find a site with an exercise “365 Creative Writing Prompts. Inspiration & Ideas for Poetry, Writing, Journaling & More.”

Initially, I planned on starting this exercise on January 1^st, but the new year is four months away and I was eager to get started. Next, I thought about starting on September 1^st since that’s only two days away. But then I figured … what the heck, there’s no time like the present, so I’m starting today.

Prompt 1: Outside the Window. What’s the weather outside your window doing right now?

Ah yes, the weather, always a safe and easy topic to talk or write about. Well, let’s see … it’s sunny here in Toronto, but it’s chilly, 21 degrees C (69.8 degrees F).

It’s been a lousy summer. So much so that this summer could go as the coolest and wettest in the history of Toronto summers. I don’t think we’ve hit 30 degrees (86 degrees) once, which ironically suits me just fine. I’m not a fan of the heat. I’m comfortable up to 25 degrees, but anything more than that is too much.

When it gets hot I prefer to stay indoors with the A/C on and a fan if need be. If I do find myself outside, I frequently run into trouble. For instance, we’ll set off on a Saturday morning to go bowling at a temperature that’s nice and warm, but by the time we leave the bowling alley it’s hot as hell. In that case, we have to take a cab home because there’s no way I can walk the long stretch home. For your information, we don’t have a car and as such have to walk wherever we want to go or make use of public transit. Torontonians will know I refer to the TTC (Toronto Transit Commission).

Not that the TTC is the ideal solution. While the trains are air-conditioned (if the air-conditioning works) the subway stations are not. Stations such as Kennedy, Yonge and St. George are much like saunas where one can hardly breathe. Taking the bus or streetcar is even worse. Passengers stand on street corners for who knows how long until the bus or streetcar shows up.

So why am I moaning about our lousy summer when in fact it’s been the perfect summer for me? No idea. Perhaps because our summer has been more like spring, and soon it will be fall. Ouch, what a horrible thought.

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$418 million payout

Some woman in Los Angeles just received $418 million for allegedly having contracted ovarian cancer after using Johnson & Johnson baby powder.

As part of her personal hygiene, she adopted the routine of taking a bottle of baby powder and sticking it … well, need I say more.

Who in their right mind sticks a bottle of baby powder in their privates? As one woman said, she’s been using Johnson & Johnson baby powder for years, but she wouldn’t dream of using it inside her.

So, ladies, all of you who have been diagnosed with ovarian cancer, why not unite online and start a lawsuit too?

But why stop there. Cancer patient everywhere, no matter what type of cancer you have, let’s all unite and sue someone. I’m sure we can all do with some money.

Perhaps I should start the group. I was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2016. I had surgery followed by radiation. Nobody gave me a dime. Worse, I had to pay for my own transportation, which I could ill afford.

Maybe I should have sued a deodorant company, then I too would have received millions. 

She says she wasn't looking for a payout, she just wanted to draw attention to protect other women. Okay, then why not just write to one or several of the major newspapers? 

And why not hold the FDA responsible? They're the ones who approved the baby powder. 

And what about the lawyers? Did any of them look into the sexual habits of this woman? How many partners she had.

A scary event

Many years ago, when I still lived at home, Monday was laundry day. Mom had a manual washing machine, struggled with buckets of water and wrestled with wet items to get them into the spinner. By the time she was done, the kitchen was flooded and in addition to laundry she had to mop the floor.

When automatic washing machines became popular she didn’t hesitate, she was going to get one of those wonderful machines. A representative from Primus came to our house and the following week a gleaming new washing machine was delivered and installed.

While the machine was top of the line, mom’s washing skills were not. Having washed manually all her life, an automatic washing machine proved to be a challenge. There were so many buttons and dials. With the machine came a manual of course, but the book being the size of ‘War & Peace’ she didn’t bother to read it. She would learn as she went along.

As such, she accidentally put one of my wool dresses in the machine and must have set the temperature too high because the dress came out several sizes too small for my frame.

Last week history repeated itself. Well, sort of. I’ve been doing laundry with an automatic machine all my life and know about temperature control, but I can’t control the temperature, which is exactly what happened. The pipes in our condo building are to blame.

Even though I had programmed the machine to wash with lukewarm water, every now and then the cold water in the building shuts off and is replaced with hot water. When someone wants to wash his hands, or fancies a drink of cold water, this hot water business is merely an inconvenience, but during laundry time hot water only is a disaster.

Just ask my favorite black jacket. It went into the machine a size 7 and it came out … something fit for a child. I flipped, I absolutely flipped. When I looked at the label it stated ‘100% pure wool’. Yeah well, that explains why it shrunk, wool hates hot water.

I toyed with the idea of holding the building responsible, but if they denied responsibility, how would I prove that it was the building’s faulty pipes? I find this a scary event. This water confusion can happen again and again.

 

Toronto's Chinatown

People with full-time jobs often envy temporary employees. For temps, the work never gets boring, they work for different companies, do different types of jobs and in the process meet a variety of people. If they like the job, great, if they don’t they can take comfort in the knowledge that it’s only for a limited time.

During my time as a temp I’ve worked all over Toronto and as such know the city like the back of my hand. Or so I thought. I’m currently based on Spadina Avenue and it feels like I’m no longer in Toronto. This part of the city is Chinatown and completely different from everything I'm used to.

The bad news is … Gone are the beautiful tall buildings. Gone are the smart shops and chain stores. Gone are the food courts. Gone are the numerous little green parks with benches. This is an old part of town where mom and pop stores rule.

The good news is … I was finally able to buy a Bonsai tree. For some time now Dieter wanted a Bonsai tree, so last year I wanted to give him one for Christmas. I contacted a few stores around town, but nobody had such trees. Next, I looked online and found a Bonsai tree seller in California. Unfortunately, having the tree shipped to me was going to cost triple the price of the tree itself. So that was a no go.

But here in Chinatown it’s Bonsai tree galore, one shop next to another. So Dieter is finally getting his tree. Let’s hope the little thing stays alive because Dieter doesn’t exactly have green fingers.

A while ago I gave him two plants, a French Lily and something else. When I visited his office a few months later, I didn’t see either one of the plants. When I asked about them, Dieter had to admit that they were both dead.

So next I gave him a cactus, because I feel that he needs something green in his office and you know what … he managed to kill that one too. I mean really, it’s a cactus … how did he manage to kill a cactus?

The change in scenery in Toronto isn’t the only thing that surprised me. Apparently, the distance between point A and point B, was also new to me.

You might remember that last week I lost my glasses on the subway. I contacted the ‘Lost and Found’ department of the TTC (Toronto Transit Commission), but no glasses were brought in. I made an appointment with an optometrist, ordered new glasses and last week I could pick them up. So excited was I that I would be able to see properly again that I decided to walk to the optician. BIG MISTAKE!

I walked from Toronto’s Spadina and Queen intersection to Bay and Dundas intersection and as you can see, it is quite a walk. 

I walked and I walked and I walked and when I thought I was nearly there, I had to walk some more. In heels mind you! Not only that, it was a hot humid day. By the time I got to Bay and Dundas, my throat felt like I had crossed the desert, my legs felt like lead and I had blisters on my toes the size of Texas.

Never EVER am I doing that again. Well today my temp job in Chinatown is over anyway. On to better and more familiar terrain.

My mistake - John Grisham's fault

We’re all familiar with the saying ‘Be careful what you wish for’, but apparently I also have to mind what I say. Just the other day I mentioned that my eyes are burning after spending a period of time on the computer. Was it perhaps time for an eye exam and new glasses?

No less than 24 hours later disaster struck … I lost my glasses. I could have kicked myself. The glasses were just 2,5 years old, had cost me over $500 and now they were gone.

My own fault really. For years, I used to take my belongings with me in a handbag or a shoulder bag. Recently, when I looked around I saw that more and more people favored a backpack, so I decided to give this a try. I was sold on it from day one. Not only was a backpack more comfortable to carry, there was plenty of room with several pouches for specific items such as comb and lipstick, cell phone, bank cards, and eye glasses.

Unfortunately, it was the eye glasses pouch that tricked me. In a way, I blame it on John Grisham. I was reading his latest book ‘Camino Island’ and I was so engrossed in the story that I didn’t notice that the train had arrived at St. George’s station. I hastily packed away the book, took off my glasses, put them in their case and slipped them in the eye glasses holder of the backpack. Or so I thought.

I must have missed the pouch because when I checked, I noticed that the glasses were not in the appropriate slot. I quickly went back to the station’s platform to see if I perhaps dropped them, but there was nothing there.

Since I’m as blind as a bat without glasses, I would have to organize new ones. Mentally I kicked myself over and over again. Not only do I not have medical insurance, I’m on a limited budget and new glasses were likely to cost me an arm and a leg.

Fortunately, I found an optometrist who could see me the next day and an optician with reasonable prices. Still, I have to wait for my new glasses for about a week and in the meantime, I have to make do with my old glasses. They’re about 5 years old, they don’t really suit my eyes, but they’re better than nothing.

Moral of the story … if I had taken a handbag instead of a backpack and read some boring book instead of John Grisham’s ‘Camino Island’ none of this would have happened. 

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