I feel like baking these days. It must be because the outdoors smell like Halloween. I always get this way in the autumn.
Tomorrow we leave for Clear Lake. We got bumped from Idelwilde cabins this year. Johnson is the destination, same as about ten years ago I guess. They are less expensive anyway. Good thing seeing as my cheque will be lower by about $600.00 this week. When the Hanover division looked at my credentials they saw that I had two degrees but didn't look at where the first one was from and based my salary on both. They now are telling me that Briercrest credits don't count and they need to correct the payments. Their bad, my loss, too bad. I wonder if Briercrest credits will ever be recognized and if so, will I be paid retroactively from the very beginning? Hmmmmmmm. That would be about $50,000.00 ish. That in-ground pool doesn't seem like such a bad idea after all does it Joyce?!
This morning Joyce and I had a brief glimpse back at the financial stuggles that we have come through and compared where we are now financially to a few years ago. If my cheque would have been $600.00 less during those times there would have been no cheque to deposit. Now the loss is annoying but it certainly won't cripple us. The thing now is not to get too comfortable and continue consuming until we are looking forward to the next salary increase so that we can consume more. God knows we already consume too much. I'm speaking as someone who ideally would like to be a minimalist. Just the essentials. Coffee, Levi's, my family, and that blissful feeling that everything will be O.K. The kind of feeling you get when you smell bread baking.
Tonight when I get home and Joyce leaves for work, I'll put the bread in, and after about 20 minutes everything will seem whole. I love the power that the combinbation of water, flour, yeast and heat has.
I always get this way in the autumn.
Friday, September 23, 2005
Last night I was invited out to Deluca's cooking school with my brother-in-law Mel and friend Ed Fast. It was a gift that Mel's wife had given him as a birthday present. Nice, I say.
Mel and I arrived almost 20 min. late and the class had already started. The chicken and spinach salad had already been demonstrated and the guests were served. We were seated in our reserved spot at Ed's table. He looked relieved to see us. The other three at the table were unfamiliar to him, although not unfriendly at all. One was an oriental woman who "worked with computers", she said. I asked if it was a home based business. "No. I work for IBM." "Do you enjoy your job", I asked. "Yes". Nothing more really needed to be said.
The other two seemed to be a couple. Young. Students, I imagined because they looked like the university type who were still experimenting with their "look" or personality type. The guy seemed self assured and his partner looked fresh, innocent and intelligent. We didn't have much opportunity to talk.
The evening was quite a bit different than what I had planned for in my imagination. I envisioned that we would be given aprons and a countertop filled with unprepared food and then told to have-at-it, following a demo of sorts. But we were the observers, the studio audience without the studio...although there were those fancy overhead mirrors that let you see right into the pots and pans and peoples bald spots (sorry Ed). It seemed a little studio-ish.
The food was good, the wine made it better, the company was limited in our contact...although Mel and I did get a good chance to talk during our drive to and out of the city. Mel is growing through a difficult part of his life adventure. He had a listening ear in me as he became honest and introspective. I pray for more honesty and clarity. Although if he gets too honest we will have to change his nickname. "Bullshit Mel" just won't due any longer.
I guess we all have some bullshit to get through on our way to the truth. I love this adventure, and I'm so glad that we're not alone.
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
I had a dream last night that I was watching my two-year old son walk amongst a group of French speaking people who were having a B-B-Q on the boulevard next to a residential street. I knew they were French because of the words which they said. "Mon dieu' , mon dieu" they would say with pursed lips, as if they were in a constant state of consoling one another. Samuel casually made his way through the group who were mostly sitting on lawn chairs, and then suddenly took a turn for the street. He was quick. I reached out to grab him with my left arm in a sweeping motion from left to right. I heard no screaching tire sounds but had a feeling that something bad was about to happen because of what I did hear. "Mon dieu, mon dieu" the Frenchies said. I woke up after I bashed my thumb into the nightstand and never did find out what happened to Sammy. I went upstairs to see my son. He was warm and safe and asleep. "Mon dieu", I prayed. "Keep him from harm".
My thumb hurts.
My thumb hurts.