I always knew this day would come, and here it is. My family doctor is retiring, and for those of you who do not live in Canada, let me tell you that finding a family doctor – ANY family doctor, let alone a good family doctor – is a big problem. My doctor has been practicing many years and so has many contacts in the medical community, he is calm and competent, not to mention that he has been my doctor for as long as I can remember. Also, his office is five minutes from my house. I had it so good for so long, and now I’m joining the masses of people without a physician, the people who have to go to walk-in clinics and emergency rooms. I feel like a much pampered princess, suddenly deposed and made to live among the commoners, scrabbling for her own potatoes and whatnot. Or like Sara in A Little Princess, one day wearing custom made frocks and enjoying a personal carriage and French-speaking maid, the next day banished to living in the attic, wearing only a too-small black dress and running errands through the rainy streets of London, being reprimanded by the cook and consuming only scraps of bread.
Things could be worse. The dog could have gotten skunked over the weekend, which was an actual worry of mine. I took the kids up to my parents’ cottage and as I was relaxing on the deck with a drink, I noticed the world’s biggest squirrel walk across the driveway, only when I noticed its tail, I realized that the giant squirrel was in actuality a skunk! Shortly after that the neighbour came by to mention that she had seen me walking the dog near the gardens on the gravel road, and that she thought she had better tell me that there was a nest of baby skunks in the aforementioned gardens. Yikes! Fortunately we made it home without having to give the dog a tomato juice bath, but run-ins with wildlife seemed to be on Barkley’s radar screen this weekend. The world’s stupidest family of robins chose our yard to teach their baby birds to fly, which seems adorably precious and magical until one is faced with the fact of my gigantic fluffy dog who attacked and would have eaten our small feathered friend were it not for my frantic screaming and my husband’s collaring of the dog. That would not have been the first bird that Barkley would have eaten.
Yesterday was a rare day in that it was hot – thirty degrees! – and sunny, with no wind. It was the kind of day that divides the city’s population into two main groups: those who enjoy and celebrate the unusual summer temperatures, and those who complain incessantly about the unbearable heat, the heat that lasts less than two days at a time, IF THAT. I belong to the first group and, despite my general adherence to the principle of ahimsa, I want to punch those in the second group in the face. I took advantage of the heat to take the kids to the outdoor pool with a friend, and it was essentially the perfect afternoon, other than a couple of visuals that left me wanting to scrub out my eyes. I’m no fashion maven. I wear jeans and black sweaters ninety percent of the time. I’m also all for self-expression and feeling good about yourself in your own skin. However, the following are a plague on society: animal print speedos on anyone but especially on leathery old men, transparent-when-wet white bathing suits, especially in the middle of the afternoon in a pool filled with young children, and nipple rings. Why? Why? WHY?
Maybe it’s just a mistake in judgement. I came across the following Bob Ross “Joy of Painting” quote:
“You really cannot make a mistake here. And as you know, we don’t
make mistakes, we have happy accidents. We just have happy accidents.”
Perhaps those wearing them think that speedos, white bathing suits, and nipple rings are happy accidents, but NO. I’m still going with plague on society here.
To all the people who complained about actually having summer yesterday I just gave them my perkiest smile and said “it sure beats winter” (while commenting on their lack of IQ to myself.)
The only time I felt like complaining was that my house was warmer than the outside at one point. It is awesome outside, not so great when trying to get children to sleep.
I don’t have any idea what health care is like in Canada but I know if my kids doctor retired I would be sad.
Animal print speedos really should not be allowed. At all.
It’s 47 degrees with the humidex here today and my daughter is at tennis camp with no indoor option available and my son has a baseball game. That’s not ideal – punch me if you like.
I’m sorry about your doctor.
A nest of baby skunks!? Now that would be a cute stinky site.
Not the doctor. Gah if my doctor retired I have no idea what I’d do. It is so bloody hard to find any doctors accepting patients. It took me almost 5 years!!
Ps. Banana hammocks on men should be illegal