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Moving On

December 10th, 2007 (11:06 am)

If you're a friend reading this, you've probably forgotten that I now blog at Wordpress.

So tired...

April 12th, 2007 (05:16 pm)

current mood: tired

I slept well, but feel like a wreck today. Tired, headachey. Plus, I have a general sense of ennui about work. Not that I’ve always felt pumped about my work. I’m good at it, my boss seems to value my contribution… but I’m only here because my path has led me here. Oh, and the pay is decent.

Lately, I’m getting asked to do stuff that seems just plain stupid half the time. Or if not stupid exactly, then unnecessary. And of course it’s all required immediately. Makes me wonder what else I could be doing instead. Like a took the proverbial wrong turn at Albuquerque (is Bugs Bunny a proverb?).

I used to want to be a writer. And, technically, I write for a living. But I don’t write. I’m not one of those write-a-novel-in-her-spare-time types of people. I used to think that if only I had the right tools - oh say a nice shiny laptop of some sort - I’d be writing away. An unstoppable literary machine. But no - years ago I did buy said laptop (not so shiny now), and I even wrote a bit. Just enough to have me come to an understanding that books don’t write themselves. It’s work. And the last thing I want to do when I get home from work is work.

I’ve been reading a blog: dooce.com. The writer actually supports herself writing a blog. No wait - let me italicise that. She supports herself writing a blog! A blog fer fucks sake! Good for her. And she’s actually an entertaining read. But I don’t imagine I’d be supporting myself writing a blog, or writing anything else other than briefing notes and legal specs.

Still, I have these flight fantasies. Typically, these used to involve me picking up stakes and engaging in menial labour while riding across the country on a motorcycle. A suddenly fit, tanned, strong, silent, lesbian drifter. Now it’s more along the lines of moving to rural Ontario with S and being a stay at home mom. Basically, being a kept person. Maybe doing some woodcarving in my spare time ( ha - a stay at home mom with spare time, that’s funny!).

What I really need is a vacation.


April 11th, 2007 (09:42 am)

It was all so easily explained away. She was straining to poo, so the vet put her on a special diet. She wouldn’t let us brush her, so she got mats. Her belly looked funny, but we figured it was the mats. She stopped pooing out of the box, so we figured the new food was working. She didn’t like the new food much, so wasn’t eating all of it but it took us a while to realize how much weight she lost. Then I started giving her the food I knew she liked, and she’d purr like crazy while she ate it, but ended up leaving half of it behind. When I finally started feeding her salmon hoping she’d eat more, she had already started hiding between the house and the airconditioner. The next day she began to be wobbly when she’d walk. The next day she stopped purring.

That afternoon the vet saw her pale gums and figured she was bleeding a lot internally, making her belly distended. It took her no time to feel the tumor.

My good companion — Found October 2003. Lost April 2007.


A bad month for grey-coated pets.

It started with a can of peaches...

April 1st, 2007 (08:55 am)

S brought up some stuff from our “Emergency Preparedness Pantry” that was soon to expire. Included was a can of peaches. The thing about canned peaches is that I would probably LOVE to have the peaches if I was stuck in the house while some avian flu or other virus was whirling arund out there, forcing me to stay inside. But if I can still buy ice cream at the corner store, canned peaches aren’t high on my list.

I thought maybe I’d make a cake with them. I searched recipes on line and found, with surprising frequency, references to Dump Cake. Growing up in a trailer park where a trip to the dump was a fun way to spend some quality time with the family, the concept got my interest.

Generally, “dump cakes” require one or two cans of fruit or pie filling which are dumped into a cake pan. Dry cake mix is dumped on top as are nuts (optionally) and melted butter. Sounds so american, yes? I popped out and bought a box of Duncan Hines yellow cake mix and off I went.

As I prepared the “cake”, I suspected all or some of it would truly end up in the dump (or rather the municipal compost heap). I can’t say I’d make it again, but it tastes better than it looks (which isn’t saying much). Although I was contantly aware that an entire box of cake mix was used. Sweet, but too rich for the volume.

The ice cream helped. Actually, just the ice cream and the canned peaches would have been a much, much better idea.

Dump Cake - yet another thing that makes me say WTF?

(no subject)

March 19th, 2007 (03:00 pm)

Around twelve years ago, I went to a pet store to kill some time. There, I saw the sweetest pup. She wasn't exitable and frenzied like the other prisoners of commerce in the petstore. Instead, she seemed content and sweet as hell (if hell were sweet). Plus, her ears met over her head in such a way that it looked like she was wearing a hat. Cute, cute, cute.

I told Romy, who was my girlfriend at the time, that she should avoid the pet store because I saw the sweetest pup there. Of course, this piqued her curiosity, so I took her there. And when she saw the pup she said "No". The pup looked too much like her last dog.

But we didn't leave immediately. Instead, a staffmember took the pup out of her cage and carried her around. She saw us looking and asked if we wanted to go to the "puppy love room". (If asked this question, I recommend that your answer be "no, thanks" unless you intend to actually buy a dog). As she played with Romy's scarf, we fell in love with her. Puppy love.

We decided to walk away and think about it. Was this the sweetest pup in the world, or would it be just as easy to find one equally sweet later? Besides, wouldn't it be better to buy from a breeder instead of progeny from what was likely a puppy mill? We went to other pet stores to look at other pups, just to get an idea of pup personality. And no - not one of them was as sweet as the one we saw. So we went back to the pet store, bought the pup, as well as a crate, food bowls, leash, collar, food and chewtoys.

It took some adjustment when we brought Nikki into our household. No longer could we come and go as we pleased. Instead, we had to make sure Nikki was accomodated - from housebreaking and walks, to meals, grooming and playtime. The rhythm and tone of our lives changed, almost as surely as if we had a child. (Although it's frowned upon to put your child in a cage while you go to work). This was our little family.

When Romy and I broke up, she asked which of us would keep the dog. I wanted her to keep Nikki. I already felt guilty, being the one to leave. There was no way that I was going to take the dog too. So, for the last 6 or so years, Nikki has been Romy's dog, although I visit. I had offered to pay for part of veterinary costs, but Romy refused. And like the house and the garden, Nikki became Romy's and Romy's alone.

Romy and I email often, and call sometimes, and visit a few times a year. Lately, Nikki has been the subject of emails as Romy asks for my thoughts on some behavioural changes Nikki has been exhibiting. She would sometimes bite or growl for no reason, she refused to use uncarpeted stairs, she yelped as though in pain for no reason, she needed to be lifted into bed.

A couple of months ago, when Nikki had her first seizure, Romy was understandably distraught. I drove right over. The vet did some tests but could find no reason for the seizure. Time passed and Nikki seemed seizure free (altohugh who knows what she was getting up to when no one was looking). Then last Thursday just after bedtime Nikki had seizures again, a cluster of them - one after another after another after another never ending. Romy went to the emergency vet's and treatment began.

Later, in the daytime, at the regular vet's, tests were done. Before the results came back, Romy was encouraged to take Nikki to Toronto on Monday to have MRIs and CT scans to see if a brain tumor was the issue, and whether the tumor could be removed surgically. When they tried to wean Nikki off the diazepam, she had another seizure. An x-ray was taken which showed two masses in Nikki's chest, Romy was told an ultrasound and biopsy in Toronto would better pinpoint whether the spots were cancer or something else. And finally, by the time Romy had to bring the dog back to the emergency vets for the night/weekend the results of the blood test came back. The blood tests suggested that Nikki had pancreatic cancer that likely progressed to her liver and her brain.

Although the daytime vet wasn't so explicit, the emergency vet's greatest kindness was being frank with Romy. The prognosis was hopeless. They could try to wean Nikki off diazepam again to see if she'd seize -- but thought it was likely that she'd seize again. And if she did seize again, they wanted to know what Romy would chose to do. Romy didn't know. She wasn't ready. She went home and called me. I drove right over.

She wanted to do the right thing, she just didn't know what the right thing was. Could it wait, was it too soon? She and I and a box of kleenex went to the vet's. We talked to the vet, who seemed quite sure that it was the right thing to do, without telling us it had to be done. But Romy needed someone to tell her what to do. "It's not the wrong decision", I said. But how could anyone really be sure. We all want just one more day. Just one more day.

We sat with Nikki, who looked fine because she still had enough diazepam in her that she wasn't seizing (but was nicely mellow). We sat and held her, and hugged her, and petted her, all the while crying. And when we had readied ourselves as much as we could, we called the vet into the room. Seconds later we were in the room alone, still crying, holding and hugging and petting the soft body of our dog. "She's your dog, too", Romy said.

Was it too soon? Based on the xrays, blood tests, seizures and behavioural changes she wouldn't have long to live. And whatever time she had left would be painful.

But just one more day?

It will always feel too soon.

October 1994 - March 2007

Homo's Nomos

March 8th, 2007 (07:05 am)

My new watch
Originally uploaded by Lynnoleum.

Last summer the battery died on my department store Guess watch. It dies every 10 months or so, and that got me remembering my father and how much he liked automatic watches (although he was a pipefitter and was hard on his watches, so he mostly wore quartz). The bug bit - I decided I would buy myself an automatic watch, to celebrate being 40 and to remember my father who died a few years ago.

I searched and researched. I read posts on Watchuseek.com, Timezone.com and other watch forums. I looked at Seiko 5s, then Archimede, then Sinn, Limes, Omega...And at the end of the search I didn't get an automatic watch at all. This one is handwound.

I'm the proud wearer of a Nomos Tangente Date, with their in-house Beta movement -- decorated and visible through the sapphire display back. The dial is "galvanized silver-plated white" which isn't quite white at all. The hands are long slender steel turned blue in an oven. The watch looks plain in pictures, but in person it is somehow anything but plain. The dial is perfectly laid out and is the essence of calm and elegance. It is dressy but with enough style to be worn casually. Oh - and it's huge. Through the magic of perception, this 35mm watch is larger than my 38mm quartz chrono. (Although I love the movement of the Tangomat, there's no way I could swing adding another few mm to the size of the dial.)

I'm very happy with my purchase even though the first time I saw pictures of the watch I didn't like it much. But pictures came up again and again during my search and I began to appreciate its style. Tommy, a watch collector on Watchuseek.com was kind enough to meet with me to let me try on his Tangente. Having it on my wrist I knew I would be buying one.

But I also know that someday I will buy myself an automatic, just like dad.

All that deep, deep, deep snow...

February 19th, 2007 (04:38 pm)

I was walking past the local Y this afternoon. They must have used some pink coloured snow melter on the snow outside the building because the snow was light pink in places (either that or it's some strange snow algae). It reminded me of the book my Dad used to read to me as a kid... Dr. Seuss' The Cat in the Hat Comes Back. Because we didn't have any other Dr. Seuss books, a) I don't know if this sequel was as good as the original The Cat in the Hat and b) this is my favourite Dr Seuss book.

It was nice, yet strange, to be reminded of it.

new year

January 5th, 2007 (11:32 am)

I started the new year off by fasting... but that wasn't my plan. The plan was to have a lovely dinner and champagne with S - maybe walk down to Nathan Phillips' square, maybe just watch movies. But I came down with some sort of bug on the 29th. I lost around 8 lbs and presumably had a bit of a liver cleanse (how's that for silver lining?). Now I just need to find away to get the vomit smell out of my car.

The year will definitely go up from here!

Poopy pants

December 20th, 2006 (11:14 am)

Anyone know how to get a cat to stop shitting on the floor? 

The grey one has made quite a habit of it.  We took her to the vet and had her anal glands expressed (Blam, one expressed itself against the wall.  Glad I wasn't standing right behind her).  I hoped that would do the trick, but no.  I bought food for sensitive stomachs, incase that was an issue... of course the other cats love it, but she doesn't like it very much.  We also have pills for deworming, not that she has worms but the vet gave them to us anyway (plus more for the other two cats).  Ever try to give a cat a pill?  Ever try to give 3 cats pills???? 

So - tonight we buy her a crate so she won't soil the whole house.  Maybe she'll get used to using litter again that way.

Christmas should be interesting.  Our cat sitter isn't available.  Do we bring 3 cats, my sister, and a trunk full of presents on roadtrip for a 5 day stay at S's family?  

Yikes!  Is it too late to trade the three of them in on a dog?

Sons and Daughters

September 19th, 2006 (03:41 pm)

current mood: angry


I was listening to the radio, listening to John Mayer's song "daughters".  He's got a nice mellow voice - he's the James Taylor of his generation.  And the song sounds sweet at first.   Here's this young man, he's met a girl who has put the colour inside his world.   But she's complicated, you see - and no matter how vulnerable he thinks he's making himself, she just won't fall for him.  And now he's realizing maybe it doesn't have anything to do with him at all.  Then we move to the chorus:
Fathers be good to your daughters,
Daughters will love like you do.
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers, 
So mothers be good to your daughters too.

Ok - so you may be assuming that I'm going to take umbrage with the concept that girls become lovers who turn into mothers - but no.  I can get past the barely veiled suggestion that women are defined only by what they are to other people, especially men (their lovers, and the mothers of their children).

No - instead I'll take you past the chorus to the next bit:
Boys you can break;
You'll find out how much they can take.
Boys will be strong.
Boys soldier on.
But boys would be gone without the warmth 
From a woman's good, good heart.

What???  Why does this attitude persist?  Why is it sung about in sweet love songs to twelve-year-old girls so that the myth can be perpetuated?

Just last week, a young man
shot a bunch of students at a college in Montreal, killing one woman (the same city where another young gunman shot and killed fourteen young women in a school years before).  Every day violent men abuse their wives or their children.  This is the kind of thing that happens when boys "soldier on".  

Sure, Mayer's world would be improved if fathers treated their daughters well, because then he'd have a better chance of getting laid by the girl who colours his world.  But the rest of the world would be better off if we were all good to both our sons and daughters.  Maybe the sons especially, since it seems that when they break, they can take a bunch of people with them in a hail of gunfire.  

And as for "but boys would be gone without the warmth from a woman's good, good heart" - why is it always up to us to save the world?

For the record - I'm not saying all the violence in the world is caused by men.  I'm not saying violent men are created because their parents didn't treat them well.  What I am saying is the song perpetuates the myth that boys can "take it" - whatever "it" might be at the time.  And the truth is, they can't - nor should it be ok to put it to the test.

There goes the neighbourhood...

June 29th, 2006 (11:29 am)

I can't say it was exactly unexpected.  When we moved across the streets from the city's largest (geographically, anyway) rent-geared-to-income housing project, we were worried about crime and gun violence.  So much so that we actually interviewed neighbours and the police before putting an offer in on the house.  But, it turned out that the area wasn't as bad as it's reputation would lead you to believe.  Well, until this week.

Saturday: a guy was shot in the leg outside a nearby apartment building.  

Monday: in the same area, a guy got shot in the leg during a carjacking.  At first I thought it was just a different report of the same incident - the victim was the same age, the area was the same, the "shot in the leg part" was the same - but it was a different day. 

Wednesday: an afternoon standoff between the police and an armed guy in a house on a nearby street. He apparently dumped some ammunition when being chased by the cops before he ran into the house - I don't think it was even his house.  Police closed off the streets and a nearby school. A few hours later, it was all resolved and 3 guys were arrested.

Thursday: A guy got shot in the arm around 4 am on a nearby street.  When police responded to the call, a guy shot at them and the EMS.  Roads around us were closed off while they searched for the guy and collected evidence (lots of shell casings).  The shooter wasn't found.

So - waaay too much with the shootings here.  Hopefully it will die down - especially before S's mom hears about it.  Then I'll have to listen to her asking us to move to Edmonton, or somewhere else she thinks is safe.  Ummm - no thanks.  Why would a couple of dykes want to move to Canada's version of Texas? 

Happy Pride

June 26th, 2006 (11:21 am)

It was Pride this weekend.   I'm lucky to live in Toronto, where its fairly safe to be gay, especially to be a dyke.   The parade does bring out vocal bigotry, however. Take the online Globe and Mail today, and the comments section. People write in to talk about how disgusting the Parade is, and why can't gays just be gay and shut up about it.   They say that gays are tolerated now, so what do we need Pride for?   That's not what I'd call tolerance.
It reminds me that although weve come a long way, its still a scary world out there. One person who commented on the Globe site even mentioned that he was tempted to chase a few of them with a baseball bat. These comments are vetted by the Globe before being posted. His comment was #15. By the time 109 comments were posted, number 15 was removed. It was too bad, because I thought it was good to let people see that sort of thing to remind them what ordinary people say about us, and how easily it passes the vetting process. 
I have to say, though, that Pride events are becoming tiresome, old hat.  It's just that I dont like being a spectator to Pride. As far as I know, individuals are not permitted to be in the Pride parade on Sunday. Its too bad. I marched in the Dyke March on the Saturday. I think its wonderful to be able to do this. I'm just surprised to see so many dykes on the sidewalk watching, instead of marching. 
The Saturday (Dyke day!) is the better day. Fewer people in general, and theyre mostly women.  It was not without flaws this year, though. After the march, we lined up for the 519 beer garden for an hour (!  WTF??), to pay $6 for beer with too much head poured into plastic cups (with, presumably the other half of the beer thrown away), just to sit around and chat with people that we hang out with anyway. I'd prefer to do all that in my backyard. Maybe next year we'll see if there's any interest in a post-march nosh in our backyard .
And the Sunday - the main Parade day-  well, there are just too many people there. I even know gay men who avoid it because it's too crowded. Some are talking about coming by on the Saturday because the crowds are smaller. I have mixed feeling about that. The reason we have a Dyke day (something I was initially against...but having experienced it, I'm all for it!) is because of the strong male presence at Pride and the consequent marginalization of the women. Now that Saturday is becoming the better day, will the men take it over?

Hard rockin' granny?

June 15th, 2006 (11:26 am)

I was talking to a colleague this afternoon.  Somehow the conversation got onto pot, and I said I'd never done pot (or any other non-drugstore drug for that matter).  She didn't believe me at first...then said this changes her whole image of me.

Apparently, she thought I was this "hard rocking" person, and now she thinks I'm a little old granny that goes to bed at 9.    Must it be that polar?  And I bet there are a lot of little old grannies who were hard rocking in their day.  Besides, I go to bed at 11!  Ha.

Seems that ordination is finally paying off...

May 29th, 2006 (07:45 am)

Today, I received this email in my "reverendlynn" account. Seems they failed to realize my ministry is not a Christian ministry. Oh - and that I'm not a moron. 

Dearest in christ,

I am Mrs Rebecca David. from Kuwait.I am married to late Mr Richard David, who worked with Kuwait Embassy in Ivory Coast for Twenty-Six years before he died in the year 2001,after a brief illness that lasted for only five days.
We were married for Eighteen years with a duaghter(Hannah)who later died in a motor accident. Before the untimely death of my husband,we were both born again Christians. Since after his death I decided not to remarry or get a child outside my matrimonial home which the Bible is against. When my late husband was alive he deposited the sum of (US$2.5M)(Two Million,Five hundred Thousand United States Dollar) in a General Trust Account with a prime bank in Abidjan Cote d'Ivoire. Presently,this money is still with the bank.  Recently,Following my ill health, my Doctor told me that I may not last for the next eight months due to my cancer problem.The one that disturbs me most is my stroke sickness.Having known my condition I decided to donate this fund to a Christain organization (Church) that will utilize this money the way I am going to instruct herein,according to the desire of my late husband before his death.I want this fund to be used in Christain Activities like,Orphanages, Christain schools, and Churches for propagating the word of God and to endeavor that the house of God is maintained. The Bible made us to understand that "Blessed is the hand that giveth". I took this decision because I don't have any child that will inherit this money and my husband relatives are not Christians and I don't want my husband's efforts to be used by unbelievers. I don't want a situation where this money will be used in an ungodly way.
This is why I am taking this decision. I am not afraid of death hence I know where I am going. I know that I am going to be in the bosom of the Lord. Exodus 14 VS 14 says that "the lord will fight my case and I shall hold my peace". I don't need any telephone communication in this regard because of my health hence the presence of my husband's relatives around me always.I don't want them to know about this development.With God all things are possible.
As soon as I receive your reply I shall give you the contact of the bank in Abidjan. I will also issue you the documents that will prove you the present beneficiary of this fund. I want you and the Church to always pray for me because the lord is my shephard. My happiness is that I lived a life of a worthy Christian. Whoever that Wants to serve the Lord must serve him in spirit andTruth. Please always be prayerful all through your life. Contact me on this e-mail address:  (rebecca0c7@yahoo.ca)  any delay in your reply will give me room in sourcing another Church for this same purpose. Please assure me that you will act accordingly as I Stated herein. Hoping to receive your reply.  Remain blessed in the Lord.
Yours in Christ,

Mrs Rebecca David

Vue panoramique de Paris

March 30th, 2006 (01:20 pm)

Such a wonderful photograph...

arnaud frich&apos;s panorama of Paris rooftops at night

autumn turns to winter then winter turns to spring

March 28th, 2006 (10:26 pm)

So, I'm watching tv and a Walmart ad comes on with incredibly bad jingle. The voices of the singers sounded juvenile, flat and just plain bad. Real bad. But somehow familiar...

The Brady Bunch?

Google confirms it. Yes, those lyrics belong to a Brady Bunch song.

But why? The song is BAD. The singing is BAD. There's no fame associated with it anymore because the target audience doesn't remember the Brady Bunch.

Strange. An advertising "don't", I think.

I guess "sloth" wasn't an option ...

February 28th, 2006 (05:33 pm)

You scored as Dragon. You are the Dragon. You store a lot of knowledge about everything. You are generally one who is good with personal growth and can regenerate yourself after a bad experience.






























Which animal totem best suits you?
created with QuizFarm.com

...lend me your ear

February 27th, 2006 (03:42 pm)

I have an earache. It's quite incredible.

Yesterday I felt little twinges of pain on and off. Same this morning.

This afternoon, I noticed the side of my neck was a little tender. I rubbed it then WHAM - full blown earache. It feels like I'm in a plane that's descending. Or maybe like a spider laid an egg sack in my ear.

Should I take echinacea? Is it the start of a cold? Or is my ear wax collection getting out of hand?


January 26th, 2006 (12:16 pm)

current mood: pessimistic

So, it was -12 this morning with a windchill of -20. Cold, but not the coldest of Toronto winter days. But tomorrow it's supposed to be +7. A swing of almost 20 degrees overnight. This is a pattern that has repeated itself a few times already this winter. Am I alone thinking this is horribly, horribly wrong? And not only because it makes my entirely superficial "need" for a parka superfluous.

Meanwhile, it's snowing in Greece...

it's January 12

January 12th, 2006 (09:37 am)

I was recording today's voicemail message at work this morning and January 12 rang a bell. Whose birthday was that? Shawn's? Gee - I guess he's 40 now too. Probably married with kids. Middle aged. Then I realized that everyone I went to high school with is 40 now, probably married with kids... established, middle aged.

Holy crap.

suddenly strapped for cash

January 11th, 2006 (12:24 pm)

current mood: surprised

Ok - I just got the quote from the landscaper last night. I had asked for something around $9,000.  He said it would be more like $15,000. Final quote: $20,000.  Yikes.  Plus, this is the spring we'll go on a big vacation.

No computer for me, no parka, no lunch, no coffee!

Maybe I should charge admission during BBQ season? 

oh apple, thou art temptation

January 10th, 2006 (04:59 pm)

current mood: excited

The iMac now has the new Intel processor. It apparently runs twice as fast as the iMac G5. It would be nice if they said it only ran half as hot as the iMac G5, then it might be safe to buy. Normally, with the introduction of a new computer, a buyer might jump at the chance to buy one of the remaining old stock at a discount. But not if it's going to meltdown on me.

Mind you, I'm used to a laptop, albeit an almost 6 yr old Dell Inspiron with crappy video, no remaining memory and a tempermental keyboard. So maybe I'd be better off with a Powerbook. And if I want a Powerbook, I better get one fast because they're being replaced with the new Intel based MacBook Pro. "MacBook Pro"? Who came up with that? Are they made in Scotland? Now "Powerbook" - THAT'S a name! But I digress. The MacBook Pro has some great specs, but it's twice the price of the iMac and it's not like I need to carry my computer around with me.

Hmmm.... or I could just be content with what I have.

Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha!

of all the gall...!

January 9th, 2006 (01:29 pm)

current mood: tired

Damned gallstones. Discomfort escalated to a mild attack on the weekend. I guess a change is necessary - time to eat a little better (ok, a lot better), and drink more apple cider.

oh parka of my heart's desire

January 6th, 2006 (02:22 pm)

I wish it would get colder so that I could justify the purchase of a big-ass down-filled parka with a fur-trimmed hood. My current winter coat is the North Face Nupste. I've had it for a couple of years and it's developing cold spots. Plus, my beloved Crumpler bag has totally fucked-up the fabric of my jacket. So a new winter coat is in order, and the obvious next step in warmth is a parka. More specifically, this parka:

Although I'm not sure which colour to choose. The red looks a little too much like I'm heading off to an Antarctic research station. Black may pick up too much lint? There's navy, brown, old green, yellow, cloud pink (ummm - no thanks) and hampton blue.

Or maybe I should just be happy with what I have. What a concept!

Home For Special Care

January 3rd, 2006 (10:50 am)

Lil sis and I took mom to her new place of residence yesterday. It's a house in a residential area similar to Midhurst (only it's located around 1/2 south of Barrie). It's populated by schizophrenics... but when you get there, you realize its full of schizophrenics who can't live independently even when medicated. Which makes sense, otherwise they could live anywhere. But it was grim to see them all there. I thought it wouldn't be any worse than the hospital - but it is worse. The hospital isn't just schizophrenics -- it has people who have hit a rough patch and need to get better -- instead of just being full of people who can't get better enough.
I cried when I left.

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