Karendipity

What would you do?

Wed, 25 Jul 2007 21:41:30 +0200

As so often happens, I've already made a decision but now I'm having second thoughts.

Here's the deal: Our neighbourhood pub, Joe Mercury's, is closing after 30 years this Saturday. A big party is planned for all the regulars, of which I am one. My husband and I have been frequenting this pub for 20 of the 30 years it's been in the neighbourhood. We know all the staff, most of the customers, and it's going to leave a very large hole in our lives when it's gone.

This weekend my sister called me from Windsor, apologizing for the short notice but saying that she's decided to throw a 50th birthday party for her husband Jim on the same night. I didn't have my calendar in front of me when I talked to her, and said we'd be there for sure.

I realized the conflict after I hung up, and phoned her right back and reneged on the party. I said we'd drive down before the end of the summer and take her and Jim out for a grand dinner somewhere lovely and have a belated celebration.

Got a terse "Sorry you're not coming" email from my mother, and a rather chilly attitude from my sister.

Today I sent Jim a beautiful golf book he's been wanting and an assortment of cool and colourful paper plates and napkins for the party.

If I miss the final night at the pub, I'll never hear the end of it from my friends, and I know I'll regret not going.

Am I a bad sister? I still have time to change my mind and show up at the party, but would really appreciate viewpoints from third parties....!

Comments

A first! Someone commented on my blog!

Wed, 25 Jul 2007 03:30:34 +0200

And it was a very awesome comment/perspective that helped me end my pity party. Thanks to you, you know who you are!

Comments

I started a new job this week and no one cares

Wed, 25 Jul 2007 03:02:57 +0200

Sooner or later I knew I'd have to use this blog as a pity party for moi. And tonight that is the deal. I have been freelancing for just over one year, telling everyone everything but no one has really been all that interested in my journey since leaving the corporate world. Everyone just seems to think that it's magic that we've been able to maintain our lifestyle (which includes lots of home entertaining, golf, dinners out, trips to visit relatives, shameless spending on children and keeping up our reputation as good dressers).

I remember my shrink from long ago told me that if I wanted people to feel empathy for me, I had to be more willing to show my vulnerable side. Does that mean because I don't whine and dwell on my insecurities verbally that I am not vulnerable? I guess so.

Anyway, it doesn't even matter what my new job is. The point is that no one, not my best friend, not my mother, my sister,or other people close to me who I've confided in, even said, "good luck on Monday". And it's not almost Wednesday and NO ONE has called to say, "how's it going?" "do you like it?" "What exactly are you doing?"

Sometimes I get really, really tired of always being the positive, happy camper that looks on the bright side of everything and never sees a black lining. I'm not ready to give up on my Pollyanna ways, but this week has been a real eye opener in terms of how aware my loved ones are of anything that really matters to me.

Comments

What do you think?

Wed, 11 Jul 2007 18:00:53 +0200

If you have a point of view, past experience or suggestion to share with me on this work-related dilemma, I'm all ears.

Synopsis: An outside consultant I worked closely with for 11 years has, of late, begun offending just about everyone she talks to, including me (one of her most staunchly loyal defenders. She was always known for being frank, direct, on the pushy side, but in the past year, she has become more and more obstreperous. I know when I have dinner with a former boss next week, he's going to ask me what my current "take" is on this consultant, who still works closely with my former employer. I have no desire whatsoever to rock the boat, tell tales out of school, or even offer up that I don't consider myself on speaking terms with her right now.

The Dilemma: Should I keep my mouth shut? What if he brings up the topic?
On One Hand: I am no longer employed by this organization so it's really none of my business what goes on inside it, even though former colleagues keep me fairly up to date. And, not having worked there for a year, save for some recent contract work, I certainly don't know all the sides of the story.
On the Other Hand: My former boss always relied on my instincts, observtions and recommendations about all matters corporate. I do have information to share that I think would benefit the organization.
Ultimately: I just don't seem to have the judgment to decide on my course of action (or inaction). I'm reminded of one of my favourite sayings: "Sometimes doing nothing is doing something."

Comments

Bad Blogger Hopes to be redeemed

Tue, 10 Jul 2007 22:03:30 +0200

A recent "How to Start A Blog" article in Chatelaine magazine cautioned me about finding out that maybe I don't have as much to say as I thought I did. How wise was that?

I don't even know if I correctly posted my first entry, so this is a second try all around.

Have you ever gone to the Liquor store and found you've arrived before it even opens? In Ontario, that's not as lame to do as it sounds--since we are still pretty much confined to buying it at the government-run LCBO. They all keep whatever hours they feel like, so they're not all the same. I don't know how long Ontarians have been able to buy booze on Sunday, but it hasn't been all that long.

A couple of hot humid Sundays ago, I thought I was being clever by getting dressed around 9:00 a.m. and heading straight for Runnymede and Bloor, the beginning of "Bloor West Village", to get booze and other shopping for a dinner party later that day out of the way before it got too muggy and gross outside.

I was surprised to see that not only was the LCBO closed, not due to open until NOON--but most of the other shops were also closed until 11 or 12! Just goes to show you how many times I get off my butt to do anything on a Sunday in the Village! I've only been living near it for 20 years!

Rather than go home and have to come back out again later, I hung around, first finding Whites and Things Linens open. Left there with a gauzy white embroidered peasant top,a set of lime green damask and waffle weave tea towels, plus a lime green damask tablecloth. None of these things were on my shopping list, but they were on sale, and it killed some time. From there I went to Starbucks for a Venti Latte and read two or three sections of the Toronto Star; all the while eavesdropping on the post adolescent skanks behind me who were exclaiming loudly about their night before sexual shenanigans. It was pretty obvious they wanted everyone to hear. Where has Class gone?

By now it was about 11:45, so I decided to go and stake myself out on a park bench in front of the Library, where I could smoke a cigarette, finish my coffee and keep an eye on the LCBO store. That's when the fun began. In the 15 minutes I sat there on the other side of the street, I watched and counted as 37 people walked up to those doors, read the Hours of Business sign, and tried the door handle anyway, just to make sure it was really not open yet!

First was a sixty-ish "Grandma" type in a white and beige flowered sundress layered over a long sleeved white t-shirt, a cigarette dangling from her lips, her bare feet clad in sparkly flipflops. With her was a young lad dressed in camouflage and humongous skater shoes--either her son or grandson. They stood around for a few minutes, then turned and headed somewhere further west across Bloor. On the bench along the side wall of the LCBO were two middle aged men with backpacks, polo shirts, sunglasses and sandals. In front of them was a rather scruffy looking guy in dirty jeans and ripped tshirt, cupping the coins he was panhandling from all passersby.

When the doors opened, I had time to rearrange my parcels and cross the street at the light and be the last one in the line of folks descending into the tiny LCBO store. It was like a sale at Walmart, so much chatter and people everywhere I turned. I waited in line for almost fifteen minutes as the first man in line boxed and paid for at least two dozen bottles of red and white wine. The next person had several 26-ers and various cans of exotic beer that all had to be rung in separately. And Panhandling Buddy was next, with three tallboy cans of some obscure cheapo beer called Laker.

Before long, I flagged down a clean, air conditioned cab (the two don't often go together in Toronto) with a polite and capable driver (a real bonus!). Still home in plenty of time to set my table, arrange my flowers, clean up and have a frosty margarita before my guests arrived!

Comments