Grumpy McGrumperson
How are we all doing with the transition to Daylight Saving Time, I ask as I drink my third cup of coffee and glare angrily off into the dark morning? I swear to god, I swear to GOD that the next person who says “we do this for the farmers,” I will murder that person. Straight up murder. Stab stab stab right to the heart. THINK BEFORE YOU SPEAK, PEOPLE. How would fucking with the clocks benefit people who work WITH THE SUN? You know who doesn’t change time? Saskatchewan. So do not come at me with such stupidity. DST started in World War I to save electricity. Today we live in a world of automation and blue lights, and I would challenge anyone to prove that any electricity is being saved at any time due to this ridiculous clock changing construct. WHEN WILL THE MADNESS END.
Unsolved Mystery
Speaking of madness, I was very surprised to receive a renewal notice for my driver’s license; I have had this license for less than eighteen months, when we moved here from Alberta. I made a renewal appointment for last week and I will say that it was as quick and painless as anything government-related could possibly be. I did ask the woman why my license expired so quickly, and she said it was because it was my first BC license. Okay? But also, no one in my family has a license expiring this year, and we all got them at the exact same time. Granted, my husband would have had a BC license thirty years ago, but this doesn’t explain my sons’ licenses. It’s a mystery, and not one that I plan to investigate further. I simply paid my $75, got my jowly, unsmiling photo taken, and went on my merry way. I look like such a bitch, I said to the woman who took my photo. We all do, she replied.
Money Money Money
The licensing fee felt like a cash grab; just one more cash grab in a world that is going broke. Last week alone I spent over a thousand dollars on groceries, which feels absolutely insane, as there are only three of us in this house. Almost eight hundred of that was at Costco; I hadn’t been there since January, and my staples were all at Desperation Levels, which explains a lot.
But I do wonder how people with limited means make ends meet. I am not a person with limited means, and I find my grocery bills to be insane. We don’t eat out or get takeout, and with the exception of a bottle of Reactine and a bag each of my favourite popcorn and my husband’s favourite granola, the thousand dollars of groceries was entirely made up of what I would call ingredients. I’m not walking around making it rain in the grocery store, and yet I spent A THOUSAND DOLLARS. Other than the occasional lone mini cucumber softening in the produce drawer, we consume everything I buy, I don’t consider myself to be a wasteful or even a spontaneous shopper – I have a Meal Plan and a List and I stick to both rigidly – and yet our grocery bills are wild. How is everyone managing this? I have no idea.
Five Long Years
I am feeling a little extra sensitive this week as I realized that this Thursday marks the five-year anniversary of the first pandemic lockdown. I am glad I have this blog to look back on, because otherwise it would be very hard to recall and believe the details. Even with the blog it’s hard to reconcile, everything was so weird and dystopian, and we all know how I feel about dystopian fiction, let alone living in it. I was scolded online for patronizing the library, once it reopened, as the virus could be living within the pages of any book at any time. THE VIRUS COULD BE ANYWHERE was the general feeling, and it’s enough to make a person spiral into madness. It was such a grim, terrifying time that then turned into a divisive, despairing time. How depressing it was, how we were all trying to keep our spirits up while life as we knew it devolved into chaos. Remember when people were putting paper decorations in their windows so that neighbourhood children would have something to look at on those walks of desperation that we were all on? In my neighbourhood, someone had a sign that said And the world came together as the people stayed apart and wow, did that turn out to be untrue. Spoiler alert: the world did the opposite of coming together.
Pandemic Hobbies, Five Years Late
On the topic of things people did in the pandemic to pass the time, last week The Squad (HI GIRLS) took a class on how to make sourdough bread. This was one of those pandemic hobbies I never got into, and I can with confidence say that I never will. Friends, making sourdough is complicated! There are so many steps! Then again, I am a person who for the past fifteen years has been baking no-knead bread, which is quite possibly the laziest bread-making methodology ever. The class was really fun, though, and should I ever want a loaf of sourdough, I will just buy it from the woman who ran the class. I think what did me in was the reveal that remnants of the dough, stuck on bowls or whisks, cannot be washed down the drain lest it block up the plumbing. I instantly imagined our entire septic system being clogged up from attempting to bake bread, and abandoned ship immediately.
Plus, I don’t think I could make anything as pretty as this:
My skills in the hand/ eye coordination department, not to mention the visual artistic department, are limited to say the least; see below.
Blast From The Past
One of the best books I read that featured the pandemic was called Unravelling, in which a woman talked about the efforts she went through to knit herself a sweater. She sheared a sheep, spun the wool into yarn, dyed the yarn, and so forth until months later she had herself a sweater. It was a very enlightening and eye-opening look at what goes into the creation of clothing, a statement on fast fashion, and a history of women’s undervalued but extremely important work.
If ever my value to society was determined by my skills in the fibre arts, well. It would be disastrous, is the short version. I am quite possibly the least competent person in the world when it comes to anything that requires hand/eye coordination, particularly in this realm. I famously almost failed home economics in junior high – and I was a very high-achieving student – because of my complete inability to sew. I swear the teacher passed me out of relief of never having to see me again. I took that class for three years and every single day saw me ripping out stitches and trying to rework them. Whereas my friends had tees and shorts that they could theoretically wear – not that any of them did, but they COULD – my projects had been ripped beyond repair. I have three clear memories from those days. The first was in seventh grade, when I had to borrow bright green ribbing for the neckline of my pale pink t-shirt from my friend Elise (HI ELISE), because my own matching pink ribbing had been destroyed from constantly taking out the stitches that had sewn the neck hole shut several times. The second was in ninth grade, when I would chattily sit beside my friend Tara (HI TARA) as the sewing machine whirred beneath her competent hands and I ripped out stitches, again and again. The third memory is how we junior high girls – for we were all girls – tormented our teacher, Miss Herget, by unthreading the serger. Someone would walk casually past the serger and then stealthily swipe their hand through, unthreading it, which would result in Miss Herget having a mini-breakdown. Every single class: WHO unthreaded the SERGER? she would scream, while we all silently assumed expressions of innocence.
To this day my husband will not let me near a needle and thread. I cannot even tie a knot in a thread; it ends up being several knots, not unlike a string of tiny anal beads. The last time I tried to sew a button on a pair of pants, back in 2001 or so, my husband found me bent over, sobbing, as I had somehow cut a giant hole in the seat of said pants. Was this karma for unthreading the serger? Who can say.
Weekly Reading
The Woman Who Stole My Life. Isn’t it great when you discover a well-established author? I don’t know where Marian Keyes has been all my life, but I do know she has a whole catalogue and I am going to read it in its entirety! I loved this book about a woman who is diagnosed with the very rare Guillain-Barre Syndrome, which results in her entire body being paralysed. Unable to talk or move, she is confined to her bed while her family resumes life as best they can without her. She ends up having a special connection with her neurologist, which leads to a whole new life in a whole different country. This book was so clever and so witty and so intensely thought-provoking, all at the same time. It’s about karma, and communication, and connection. Every single character was a complete delight. As a side note, I was both surprised and not to go on goodreads to discover that this book had a LOT of very poor reviews. This kind of tracks for me as any book I really love often has a low rating, and vice versa. I never a) look at goodreads for ratings and reviews, and b) take said ratings and reviews seriously. I am my own woman! And I loved this. Can’t wait to read more. Over 500 pages, and this book didn’t drag ONCE.
All In Her Head. We all know, or should know, that the medical community has long been misogynistic and has disbelieved or dismissed women and their health concerns. This book explores the long and dark history of how women’s health has been mismanaged, destroyed, or ignored by the largely male medical community. Yes, things are getting better, but vestiges remain, as seen very recently. Traditionally women have not been included in clinical drug trials because of our pesky old hormonal cycles, which is alarming to say the least. Drugs were not tested for female bodies, and then when those drugs didn’t work as they did for men, the it’s all in her head attitude prevailed. In any case, it’s just one more thing in a long list of things in which women’s concerns and lived experiences have been minimized and dismissed. This is an interesting and enraging book, and it sure shows that men have been really worried about women and masturbation. Hoo boy, masturbation was historically blamed for everything from nervous conditions to scoliosis. Thanks to Stephany (HI STEPHANY) for bringing this book onto my radar.
Friends, I hope you are all taking care of yourself, this week after time change. Drive safely, get your sleep, treat yourself gently. xo
