Bath

I am in the bath, staring at my toes with the water up to my chin. Every now and then I slip my lips beneath the surface and blow bubbles. When the water starts to feel cool, I reach up with my toes and turn the hot water on, and I sit up and swirl the water around my body with my hands to help the particles collide. I scoot up and down the tub a few times before I lie back down in the hot water, reaching up with my toes once more to turn the water off then resuming my alligator pose.

This is how I spend the evening.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

Licensed to Drive

Once upon a time I was a fully licensed driver. Then I had a bad car accident that disputably was my fault, and all of the ensuing fines left my license suspended until the time that such fines could be paid. It was a sad time. Then on one happy birthday, my mister paid up all my fines with interest and took me to the driver and licensing office to get me reinstated.

Had it been but two weeks earlier, all would have been well. But sadly, my status as a driver was now rescinded and I was back to unlicensed status. I swallowed this bad news bravely and went down to the drive test centre and wrote my beginner's permit test, cockily thinking that I knew all of the rules of the road. Of course, I was much mistaken. Needless to say, I failed the test like nobody in the history of beginner's permit testing has ever failed it.

I bought the Ontario Driver's Handbook and studied my little heart out and went back a week later to write the test and passed with flying colours. I was now a beginner driver with G1 status, meaning that I had to drive with a proper "grown up" driver for at least one year.

The year passed and I paid my testing fee and took my test. I failed.

I waited the required six weeks to re-test, paid my testing fee and took the test again. I failed.

I hate failure. With unbridled enmity. I also hated the drive tester for failing me for stupid little things like not checking my blind spots and not using my turn signals coming out of a parking spot and not checking my mirrors while parallel parking and other stupid things. I mean gees - who actually drives with their hands at 10 and 2 and follows all of the rules of the road? I swore that I would not take my test again until the tester either retired or died - which ever came first.

Being the bad girl that I am, I sometimes broke the conditions of my G1 license and drove without a grown up present. Short trips to the store, nothing major. But then two weeks ago, I spun out on an icy patch and lost control of the truck and ended up hitting a snow bank and crunched up the front bumper.

Nothing has ever been a point of contention between me and mister like me driving on my own without a proper license. Especially since every time he caught me driving alone, I promised him that I wouldn't do it. The combination of me once again breaking my promise not to drive without him present, and me crunching up the truck put him over the top. My keys were confiscated, my license cut up into fifty pieces, and the silent treatment duly given.

So I overcame my fear of failure, paid my testing fees and booked another road test.

Much to my surprise, I passed with 100%. Much to the drive tester's surprise, when he told me that I had passed, I burst into happy tears. I bet he's never seen that before.

Seen

We are stopped waiting for a left hand light. Across the road there are two girls, each with white canes and dark glasses. The girls are holding hands with their free hands, and together they help each other negotiate their way over a parking barrier between a parking lot and the sidewalk.

Today I saw the blind leading the blind.

Alien Invasion

I am sitting at a fry shop in the old world. The first thing I notice is that there is no technology here. There is a sign above the cash register that says [sic] "We doesn't have the debit, sorry for the inconvenience").


The afternoon waitress just came on shift. I imagine her getting ready a few minutes ago in a small gray room somewhere behind the swinging door between dining room and kitchen, putting on her uniform shirt and tying on her apron. She checks her hair in the small mirror by the door and walks out to greet the kitchen staff. She takes a breath, puts on an artificial smile and comes through the swinging doors.


All the regulars sit at the dining bar, and she greets them by name, asking them about the latest issue of their Daily News: Ronald's Wife wins big at Last Night's Bingo. Donna's Mum Takes a Bad Fall. John's Cat Comes Back From the Vet.


The rest of the customers, she calls Hon and Luv. She comes to my table. 'What can I get for you, Luv?"


I order up a soda, and settle my tab when she appears with my drink. Giving her a hefty tip, feeling like I owe it as the cover charge for an obvious intruder.


There is no automatic timer on the coffee maker, no free wifi and the only pieces of the digital world are the thermostat on the wall and Carl's Casio™ watch, which beeps three o'clock in time with the turning of the hands of the 7-Up™ clock on the wall. Looking around, it seems almost as though the place itself runs on the lives of the customers. A perpetual motion machine of regulars and outsiders.


Each time my phone rings, every eye in the place is watching me. Each time my phone rings, I use my thumb to cover the speaker as much as I can and whisper into the mouthpiece because the earpiece on my cel phone is broken, so have to take my calls on speaker. There are no other cel phones sitting on tables or making unmistakable lines in back pockets. I am quite certain that my MacBook Pro™ is the first laptop this place has ever seen. I feel like a visitor from the future, a visitor with a data pad and a mobile communicator. I feel uncomfortable here. Have I found the convergence of the digital and analog worlds?

First Snow

We always go for a walk in the first snow of the year. This afternoon it was chilly autumn and tonight it's suddenly cold winter and as we're walking I'm watching my breath curl in icy wispy clouds from my mouth, dissipating into the air. It's too cold to talk so the only sound we're making is the soft sound of two sets of footsteps in the snow. He curls his gloves around my mittens and we swing our hands between us.

We're just down the street from our house, where the yellow glow of a street lamp filters down through the last stubborn leaves of an old oak tree.  He turns to me and we stop.  Big snowflakes swirling down, covering everything in a thin layer of perfect white powder.  I shiver and he pulls me in and I press my face into the warmth of his neck. 

Gently lifting my chin, he kisses me as the snow falls silently around us. Then he takes my hand and we walk home.

One perfect moment to cherish forever.

Six Months Old

Three months ago, River joined our little family. He's just turned six months and is now the same size as his 3½ year old sister. I can't wait to see how big he is going to be.

The official ritual of becoming a member of our family is simple. A tummy raspberry for pets and a wet willy for children.

Generally the dogs and kids take to it quite well. The cats, notsomuch - but the look of mixed confusion and disgust on their little kitty faces is always priceless.

Eavesdropping at Tim Horton's During Lunch

At the table behind us, there are two construction types and I briefly overhear what one of them says:

"His heart broke when she died and for the rest of his life he took it out on every woman he met."

And I think how poetry is found in the most unusual places.