Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Bye September

Here we are ... the end of yet another month. The speed at which time passes never ceases to amaze my eye 'balls-es'. I mean, seriously people - how is it scientifically possible to drag and fly at the same time?? Hm? Should that not hold the same rule as sucking and blowing? My work days feel like months, but I get home ... say hi to my kids ... and then a few (under breath) curse words and some yelling later, they are asleep and I am not far behind them - to prepare to do it all again.

It's hard to resist getting down in the mouth with the minutia of life lately. But I am going to try.

In honour of this expedited passage of time, I started my Christmas shopping yesterday. I expect to get boos and hisses, but when you are dealing with a budget that looks like mine, you gotta spread it out. I've been stalking ebay like a serial killer. Got a couple of good buys too. I love to shop, but I detest going into stores - especially at Christmas. People become a special kind of irritating during the holidays... and given my propensity toward PDV's (public displays of violence) of late - let's just say it's better for everyone involved if I scratch the shopping itch online.

I know y'all are wondering how in hell's bells I am able to shop being as financially depressed as we have and all ...  we have FINALLY put a plan in action. By "we", of course, I mean "me" ... My Mom has moved into the main house  (though continuing to make her contribution) and I have rented out her apartment to a young couple that is moving in this coming weekend. I have gotten plenty of help with the work involved in this move - don't mean to make it sound as though I don't. My hubby has been working like a slave for the past 4 days straight. Mom's been pretty busy too. I am still suffering the effects of this past weekend as the level of upheaval that has resulted due to this move is mind numbing.

I put her up in our bedroom and gave her the room next door to it too. (There are four upstairs and my girls currently share a room) Now, she has a bedroom as well as a TV room. This is a good thing. I am pleased with the outcome - BUT ... the work ... whew! I lost four closets with this little stroke of brilliance on my part. (We also cleared out of the upstairs bath) So hubby and I moved down to the main level into the actual 'master bedroom' for the house. It is MUCH smaller than the room we gave up - but who cares. I just need some peace in my house. Plus - there is the bonus of the fact that the kids are gong to go crawl into her bed first :) cool.

So - there is some income being generated now. This is a good thing, no? We are surely not on easy street, but just having the decisions made is HUGE!! The rest of this mess will meet a resolution tomorrow and we can finally start to get past it ... I hope. Please please please ... a little smooth sailing for a while ...

Note -> you know this is the part of the cartoon where the anvil falls on my head, right??

I guess that sums up as much happy as I can stand for today. I have two ideas brewing in that cesspool I call a mind. I think I'll nurture them a little :)

Happy No Whining Wednesday - I think I did it ... kinda???


Friday, September 25, 2009


When I was a teenager, my family lived "the dream" or so it would have looked from the outside. We lived in a rural area and of the places that existed at that time, I suppose our home was considered to be pretty nice. We lived on a lake in a brick raised rancher, so it was both quaint (from the front) and huge (from the back). I also got to reap the benefits of having a stepfather who's main motto in life was "he who has the most toys when he dies - WINS". At a very young age, I was introduced to toys for big boys (AKA tools with which teen aged girls could attract said big boys - as I soon learned). I had (and by had, I mean I could use at my discretion) stuff that ran the gambit: a dirt bike, my own snowmobile, a boat, a Honda Big Red (dating myself here) which was actually a trike for those who are unfamiliar. As well, a myriad of accessories like water skies, cross country skies, satellite dish (long before anyone had heard of such a thing on a private residence) a VCR before ANYONE I knew had a clue what that was and one of the very first models of a projection big screen TV - 55" from corner to corner (still have it, in fact) ... well, you get the picture - I was, for all intents and purposes spoiled rotten. (At least if you were looking in from the outside.)

The moral of my paragraph (I think) was that I had a lot of 'guy friends' and I guess I was spoiled too. It didn't hurt that I essentially looked like this (though I am 19 in this photo) . (I will point out the absence of a current photo, since I obviously do not resemble this exactly these days ... my middle age spread started early and ran long ...)

Hard to imagine such an innocent face being capable of such heinous acts ..

My stepfather was a trip and a half. It was more like having a really annoying older brother that had a propensity for smacking me around a little lot. I don't mean to misrepresent the circumstances ... this was precisely the same as sibling rivalry although I never smacked back and ultimately he had way more power than I did. Still. This was the relationship. We vied for Mom's attention - good and bad.  We fought like brother and sister.

I used to make my dish water hotter than any human being could possibly stand it - just in the hope that he would walk by and stick his greasy fucking mitts in my clean dish water (as he was oh so prone to do) and thus burn his stupid skin off. At which point, I would inevitably get into a pile of shit - head first and ankle deep. My point was that he should not be utilizing a sink full of dishes as his personal bath tub and to keep his hands the fuck out!! (To be clear, I was not allowed to say fuck, but he used it enough for both of us - so it was all good). My mom would usually agree with me and he would stomp off like a big baby - plotting his revenge, and I would be left washing dishes in water that was still hot enough to melt glass. Worth it. This stunt worked until the day Mom was the one who stuck her hands in my dish water. Then the jig was up. Was good while it lasted.

I still use very hot water when I have to wash dishes. (I hate scrubbing stuff, so the hotter it is, the less physical labour is required) Mom stuck her hands in my dish water two nights ago ... and reminded me of this story and my passive aggressive tenancies as a teen. I guess these tools are acquired young. I am the Queen of the Island of Passive Aggression. I really don't know if I have any other defense mechanism - other than maybe humour ... but there's a pile of room for passive agression within the bounds of humour - so I guess that doesn't really count. I realized while I was thinking about sharing this silly story that I have thousands more of them.

Like the time my ex 'father in common law' told me to "go on inside there and whip us up some lunch like a good girl" and subsequently, when I made his hot dogs ... well let's just say that his dogs were rolled on the floor of a back wood cabin, rubbed along the port-a-potty rim and marinated in hoark ... that's hoark - you know what I'm talking about, don't pretend you don't. (My husband would shudder to hear this story - not his dad, just a spitting girl would gross him right out) Or the toothbrush story I shared about my cousin ... I'm starting to realize just how bad I really am. BTW - I didn't feel anything but pleased with myself as he scarfed down the three hot dogs I had so carefully prepared for him. Just sat there with a smug grin on my face.

I guess the only place I have to go from here is to aggressive-aggressive ... I'm thinking that would result in some media coverage.

Wow! Talk about 'streaming thought'. My goal for this post was to give some back ground on my step father and our relationship. When I moved out on my own (at the ripe ol' age of 17) our relationship mellowed into a "Jerry/Newman" understanding. Indifference would best describe us, I suppose. This is important for a post I am working on for next month.

Happy weekend!

Thursday, September 24, 2009

New feature

I think I'll start a new feature. Yes ... I think that is a good plan. I will call it "Chronicles of Narcissus".

Yeah ... it could be both a fun feature for reading and a catharsis for writing. A win/win, if you will.

This could be good. I will regale you with stories of nonsensical foolishness that occurs on a quasi regular basis 'round these parts.

As an example, I might tell you about the day that one of the area managers (of a lender I was utilizing frequently at the time) stopped by with a $100.00 gift card for the local grocery store for me. (Just a special 'thank you' for choosing to use them - as I do not make commission ... unlike my fearless leader.) Narcissus intercepted said gift card ... said "Oh don't worry, I'll be sure to take care of Dani here" and stuck it in his pocket. ***I will just point out that this is a man that owns THREE Mercedes high end vehicles: Let me demonstrate (Please note the lovely photos attached.)  One for every day of the week (that he works). ***

Yeah ... so he sticks the gift card into his pocket and commandeers the conversation, eventually pushing me out of it.

In our little set up, the way it works is as follows: He's the name on the organization : "Narcissus Inc" and all business funnels in under that name. I am the funnel. I am also the collector, the brains, the closer and the cleaner ... but whatever ... he's 'da maaan'. Me and my boobs are happy in the shadows ... chained to the desk ... like Quasi Motto ... tolling the proverbial bell. Well - happy is a relative term. If only I could be so invisible when the numbers are shitty or a head needs to roll ... perhaps I'd be more inclined to be invisible when the treats come out ... not so much, in my case though.

Several days had passed since that meeting where the gift card was presented. I had mostly forgotten about it - officially, anyway. I figured he had forgotten it in his pants and it got washed or some other dumb ass thing. I knew full well he wasn't THAT desperate for money that he'd starve without that hundred bucks ... In the meanwhile, the area manager happened to call me and in the conversation he asked me what glorious goodies I had purchased for myself with my found money ... uh ... er ... um ... well ... he piped in: He didn't give it to you, did he? I tried to come up with something that might explain it away - 'cause after all, it is embarrassing that I work for such a miserly individual that values my contribution to his business so little. Plus, I didn't want to make a big thing about it ... well not to Narcissus' face, anyway.

Strangely enough, the very next day boss man Narci brought me a $50.00 certificate from the same grocery store. He actually took the time out of his busy schedule to drive to the store, cash in the $100 cert and buy 2  for $50. (I'm gonna quote Spender here ... I sincerely hope he does not mind) ... but JEEEBUS IN A JUMPSUIT!!!!  Okay - is it just me - or does that seem out to fucking lunch??? I mean - REALLY. Does it not strike you as the teeniest bit petty for a man that makes a GAZILLION dollars, vacations all over the world several times a year and owns more chattel than I can shake a stick at (... and believe me, I'm an idiot savant when it comes to shaking sticks ...) to be that concerned about spiltting this with me?

I wish I had had the wherewithal to say: "No, that's alright - you keep it. It obviously means a lot to you." I was  too gobsmacked. Still am. See it's stuff like this that I need to write down (or type out, as it were) so I can keep an inventory. Perhaps I should ask Doran if he'd sell me a franchise of  Stabbymart. I'm thinkin' he's onto something over there. Perhaps I'll collect my own inventory before I start buying a supply of instruments of personal torture.

Oh look at me all name droppy today.

Stay tuned for the next volume of Chronicles of Narcissus

Happy Thursday Folks!

Monday, September 14, 2009

Touch Stone 3/10/2001

This is what my oldest/longest/dearest friend had to say about me in her blog ... back before I even knew what blogging was ... her talent is a life force.

Touch stone 3/10/2001

You called me last night to bitch about work. Not because I'd advise you but just because I say "uh, huh" at the proper intervals.

You've come so far.

You're so sure on your feet, many say disagreeable though. Used to pick toreadors who'd try to tame you with red flags and ire. Now you've got yourself a quiet little bullet. You two have made a nice home.

There are many people who would tolerate my hysteria but few who I can trust with it.

I trust you.

I've called you choking on the injustice. So low that I couldn't see light. You say "uh, huh" at the proper intervals and rage with me and have the exact inflection.

And never bring it up again.

Buried in the night like a body in a suitcase.

I know your history. I can't liken you to a Phoenix, you're more like the lone survivor of a fiery crash that killed everyone else. I think that because I've seen your guilt and I know you came from it slowly. On your knees.

You're better than you know.

There's a list in my head of people I can never be without and you're on it. You’re my lungs.

I've hurt your feelings because I have a stupid, quick mouth and I immediately throw myself down. You know that.

We became friends over coffee when you were off on Tuesdays. We stay friend over the phone because you live in the city.

I've hoped for you. I've grieved for you. I've bitten my tongue to a bloody nub staring at the brick wall you bang your head against like it'll ever move.

You're stubborn.

You're so flawed. Perfectly flawed.

And funny......remember when you schlepped your boyfriend on the patio and the neighbour caught you and gave you dirty looks the next day while you painted your house. I truly thought I'd done organ damage that night, I laughed so hugely.

You're so much better than you'll ever, ever know.

The weekend...

This past weekend wasn't much to write home about (as it were). There were two highlights: a) I got smashed with my hubby Saturday night and it was loads of fun and b) Spender stumbled on my 'other blog' and said nice things about one of my 'shorts' ... let me say from the point of view of an attention whore - that was heavenly :) Thanks to you, Spender!
I spent the better part of yesterday camped out in my favorite chair ... nursing a hangover. That was good for me. I'm feeling a whole lot better than I was. After sitting at my table on Saturday morning and bawling like a baby for an hour while my poor husband was turning himself inside out trying to "fix" me. I know that guys are geared that way - it's just that sometimes what we need more than anything is to just let it out - and feel heard. (I am learning in my old age the only solution to that would have been to marry a woman ... alas - some highly important anatomy absent in that case ...) But I digress ...
So - here's a funny little story ... I'm in the shower Saturday - bear in mind this is just after my little cry-fest ... so there I am, doing some regular maintenance ... you get the idea, there was a razor involved ... mindin' my own ... and I feel the incredibly cold shower curtain liner grazing my behind ... something that doesn't happen on it's own ... and I look down and I see my dumb cat in between the outer curtain and the liner ... which is fairly normal for her except that she is lying on the edge of the tub and she is batting at the water as it is hitting the edge of the curtain - so I can see this ending poorly ... but I resume my tedious work - at which point I feel the (freezing freakin') shower curtain touching me from the other side - that gets my attention as I am watching the cat on the opposite side. So I turn - and here is Cooper (my big oaf of a dog) with his big ol' bear sized head stuck in the bathtub, drinking the shower water. Again - would have been fine on any other day ... except Cooper spotted Chloe and Chloe spotted Cooper, causing Chloe to fall into the tub and get immediately soaked from the spray ... I'm sure you are aware how much cats like to be wet .... at which point, Cooper jumped in after her (he is at roughly 93 lbs at present with paws like a polar bear) ...
So I have three very deep gashes in my thigh and calf from the ensuing battle of feline vs canine vs bathtub ...  you could hear the calamity that ensued from two doors down, I'm sure. Then I had the entire house hold in the bathroom with me ... so much for 10 minutes of privacy ... I'm bleeding, the kids are crying, my husband is trying to find something to stop the bleeding - the cat and dog have taken the fight downstairs ... I can here stuff getting knocked over ... it was funny. I should have a sit com. My home life is somewhat funny to watch, I'm sure.

Hurricane Bill Damage

Not sure if many were even aware of the massive hurricane that was supposed to kick off the Atlantic hurricane season ... those who were surely are also aware of the reality of this storm.

Don't get me wrong, in light of all the damage we have seen from Mother Nature's brute force I wasn't hoping for catastrophe ... but I'm always up for a good storm and this was a big ol' disappointment :(

No disrespect meant to anyone who has suffered at the hands of brutal weather.

How I spent my 36th birthday

Given that my 37th birthday is eeking ever closer ... I happened to be cruising through some older writing in an old email account this morning and I came across this little diddy about how I spent my day last year. Really all this will serve to prove is that I have been relatively miserable for a very long time. It has its funny moments, though and I felt like sharing...

My morning - up at 6:15 am. Shower ... shoe cat outta shower. Make-up... shoe cat off counter. Find clothes ... shoe cat out of closet. Trip over dog. Wake cranky child #1... inflict needy cat on sleepy child. Pick out child's clothes. Wake up even crankier child #2. Pick out clothes for #2. Go back into #1 and wake up again ... have fight about going to school - check on #2 ... wake up again ... listen to massive tantrum about hating pre school and how she wants to stay home. Pick up #2 and both sets of clothes ... drag #1 by foot outta bed. Further lead #1 down the stairs with #2 on my hip. Dog and cat BOTH pass us on the stairs, knocking down #1 and seriously pissing off #2 - I yell (first time of morning).
Start dialogue regarding breakfast. Prepare #1's breakfast. #2 wants same. Prepare #2's. Now she doesn't want toast and cheese whiz - she wants toast & jam. Prepare toast & jam. Not good enough, she wants it heated up (the jam) ... (yell for 2nd time). 
Dog eats toast and jam (yell for 3rd time). Feed cat, dog and fish. Make coffee - new coffee pot (old pot broke two weeks ago ... happy about coffee). Make lunches - listen to #1 complain about my lunch making ability. (Yell for 4th time).
Hold #1 on toilet and squeeze pee out of her as she is fighting me tooth and nail... TMI???
Get the picture? Add to it the fact that we got 15 cms of snow followed by ice pellets last night and my van was out of gas (due to my husband taking my last 7 bucks) so I really couldn't let it heat up prior to leaving. My 1st born had to catch the school bus which meant she needed snow pants and boots - which creates much more drama ... my youngest has to be driven to her pre school. We were highly late by this point and I still had to get gas - PLUS my Mom had the car seats in her car yesterday which meant I had to re install them in my van ... ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. My husband had called to make sure I didn't let the kids go to school without boots .... boots I had to locate in the basement ... but did not wish me a happy day. AND - I went down on my ass in the driveway walking child #1 to the bus because my stupid dog has no leash manners yet - so I yelled AGAIN - and I was into double digits by this point.
So I cried most of the way to #2's daycare and then she threw a fit when I tried to leave her there - she had to be peeled off me by two teachers ... and I've been tearing up off and on all morning. Oh and by the way - hubby's ex wife is being buried today. I found her Obit. I know I have no right to be all poor me, but I can't seem to change it thus far. How is it fair that she even gets to destroy my birthday??? I almost wonder if she didn't plan her burial specifically for the purpose of wrecking my birthday. (Okay - there's some serious dysfunction for ya ... if you knew her like I do, you'd wonder too)
I have to go and get groceries on my lunch break so the kids can make me a birthday cake ... sigh

Evening recap...

Okay - so my night last night was mostly a wash ... I mean I know not everyone is a birthday person, but I am - and I guess the expectation is there that it will rate an effort for the people in my life. Not so much last night. So I get home and there is no dinner (I figured one night out of the year wasn't too much of a request) but I am super excited because I was called for an interview with Scotia MacLeod as their Regional Administration Manager (Which is a position I am super excited about)  <---- didn't get this, obviously.  I am yammering on about it like a rabbid chipmunk and he says - aw hun, I hate to see you get excited about something that doesn't happen ... SPLASH ...
So - after I spent 45 minutes putting $400 worth of groceries away, I asked "so - what am I making you for my birthday dinner?" (Bear in mind, the man has  been home since 3:00 - it is now 6:25) To which he responded - well, I can just do something simple ... so he made beans and weenies. I wasn't overly hungry after the whole chocolate debacle of earlier in the afternoon. So I basically just sat at the dinner table and had a piece of molasses bread. I had gotten a small little cake at the grocery store for the girls... so THEY could enjoy my day.
After supper, I cleaned the kitchen, the guinea pig cage and the litter box - fed all 5 animals and sat down at the kitchen table to do Bug's reading homework with her - since it didn't get done after school like it was supposed to. This is where the story gets funny ...
I had eaten hummus and raw veggies earlier (before the death by chocolate birthday cake the office girls had given me ... mmmmm) with one of my co workers and apart from the massive amount of garlic - hummus is comprised of mostly chick peas ... gassy little fellas that they are. So add to that the copious amount of roughage consumed and the makings for an uncomfortable evening naturally follow...
Lead up ... So I am one of those rather prissy gals who simply does not experience 'gas' as far as anyone else on the planet is concerned... marriage didn't even change that for me. My kids, however think that bodily function is freakin' hilarious... see where I'm headed with this??
So I am sitting at the table, coaching my kid through some inane book and I feel this unbearable pain and pressure mounting in my lower abdomen ... bear in mind I am twisted up as tight as a kite in a wind storm to boot... I don't want to leave because it has taken me 20 mins just to pin this child of mine down ... so I think ... maybe I'll just let 'a little' of the pressure off ... not knowing of course that my husband was standing around the corner ... well ... the cacophony that followed would rival any retired football player after an afternoon of beer and nachos ... I may need to refinish that chair, in fact ... my daughter quite nearly fell off her chair with laughter and I let a squeal out of me as I could not imagine this sound was emitted by my body .... then he sticks his head around the corner and says ... what in the hell was that??? If it was possible to simply implode - I'd have done it right there ... embarrassed doesn't even come close to the feeling that followed ... OMG!!!
So - I hope that my stark embarrassment is enjoyed by you ...

Why Dragonfly?

It would seem I have some sort of weird fixation on insects. My kids' nicknames are "Bug" and "Bee". As a pair, I refer to them as "Ladybugs", had we further expanded our brood with a third daughter, I'd have named her Kate and she'd have been my "Katydid"... and then there is my moniker. I love dragonflies. I always have. I'm not a huge fan of bugs, in fact I am quite irrational at the sight of a spider ... or an earwig. *shudder*  It's a strange co-inky-dink that these are my nicknames of choice.
I want a pond ... I will have one, but I have to wait until my shorties are better around the water - we are highly cautious about standing water. I want a big ol' pond with the clay bottom (I think it is clay) y'know the one that you can put the great big Koi in, but they are able to dig in under the clay during winter? Yeah ... and a waterfall and underwater lighting.
I'll plant water lilies the size of my head ... they attract dragon flies - which are just the best damn bug on the planet. In fact when I die, I'd like to come back as one. They are gorgeous, no one wants to kill them and they fly around having sex with each other all the time  ...  how much more could you want, really? Totally gonna be a dragonfly...
I guess it is as simple as that ... thusly, Danica Dragonfly was born :).
In case anyone else was curious.

Friday, September 11, 2009

Not the Gamma

My dog has adopted my mother as his doggy parent. I feed him, my husband plays with him. My kids treat him like a brother ... but it is my mother he likes best.
This drives me out of my mind ( be fair, it's really more of a putt than a drive). I know it's petty, but lets face it - petty's my thing these days.
Last night, he was having issues with his ears. We have been combating this with drops. I got up (at four o freakin' clock, I might add - because whenever anyone is itchy, sore, awake or needs to vomit - they inevitably seek me out) to get his drops out of the bathroom so I could make him better. Bear in mind, I was in the bathroom ... the place that houses the bath tub ... where heinous acts of bathing are perpetrated against puppies regularly.
Suffice is to say - he left. Without haste. 30 seconds later I can hear the little Christer pushing open the door that separates our dwellings and him slipping inside. I thought: Fine you little shit! Have itchy ears ... see if I care. But I did care ... and I couldn't get back to sleep knowing he was suffering. So - I dragged my sorry half dressed arse down the stairs, across the kitchen and into Mom's abode. I called quietly ... Coooooper ... come see mommy. I'm not gonna bath you ... come puppy, I need to fix your ears. Cooooooooooper .... come here, buddy ... mommy has a treat ... wanna treat? C'mon, buddy ... no Cooper. He had himself wedged in nearly under her bed ... not moving. Like she was going to protect him or something. At that point my options were limited. If I kept at it, I was sure to wake my mom ... so I left him. Itchy little shit that he was.
What's up with that? I would expect this kind of disrespect from the cat ... but the dog??? Aren't dogs supposed to love unconditionally? Do I need to start worrying about the fact that even my dog doesn't love me??? Sigh - I have issues.
I swear that dog refers to us as: Gamma, Not the Gamma and the two short givers of food. 

Wednesday, September 9, 2009


I've just finished reading a few blog pages by other (less depressed) folks. I am realizing just how much of my "blackness" is even in the design of my page. Interesting, the things you overlook in creating a visual representation of your thoughts. Even the simple act of clicking on my page impacts my overall feeling. 
I 'wannabe' happy. I would like for my writing to be sharp and funny again. I am sarcastic and that will never change, but this oozing black tar that is my general attitude lately has got to go.
Perhaps it is time to consider changing my layout to something a little less dark. Hmmm ... maybe it will inspire a more positive outlook. I am going to take this under advisement. I found a spectacular blog page design, but I can not seem to upload it to my page. I don't know if I am simply technologically challenged or if it is my hateful operating system... I have not given up, though.
I think I will focus a little of my pent up energy on some positive changes and see if I can fix me in baby steps. :)
Think happy thoughts for me.
PS - I simply had to post on 09/09/09 ... too kewl!

Tuesday, September 1, 2009


Here it is in the early part of Tuesday morning ... I am at work ... I was late getting here this morning due to road construction.

Here's a question: Why is it that they (the idiots who plan road construction) stripped the G-D pavement down to nearly gravel just as school was ending ... only to leave it until today (the day before school starts again) to begin paving it? I mean seriously, people ... where is the sense? Tomorrow is going to be a harrowing day for any commuter. I live in a rural community. It isn't like I am in a city ... where there is traffic, but the first day of school is unpleasant as far as driving to work is concerned. Anyway ... I was late. Namely because I sat - stopped - for ... get this ... FOURTEEN MINUTES. There was no traffic ... seriously, people ... livestock could have taken me to my place of business faster.

I sat there ... watching the iron faced flagger gal. She was smoking. By looking at her face, I'd say she's been a smoker for some time... quite possibly one could say the same about her occupation. I could smell her smoke in my car and with every sniff that came through my air system, the urge to smother her by stuffing her hard hat into her throat grew. I know it isn't her fault the D.O.T is run by obtuse meat heads that couldn't schedule a lunch break much less the resurfacing of an entire secondary highway. It's just that they seem to become the object of my frustration in a mad hurry. Fourteen minutes is too long. There simply isn't enough traffic on that road to justify it.

Four cars went by me ... FOUR. But for whatever the reason, the brilliant stock that planned this little job felt it necessary to employ the use of a "follow me" truck to assist with guiding all us country bumpkins through a straight line of road - clearly marked with BRIGHT ORANGE PYLONS. See, here's the problem ... they assume that we are as dumb as they are ... and plan accordingly. I have little doubt not a single member of the crew would be able to figure out where to drive without the help of the little truck with the 'follow me' sign tacked to the tailgate. I am, in fact, quite certain there is intensive training for this coveted post on the crew.

I totally understand that road construction is an important part of infrastructure - especially somewhere with weather as nuts a Nova Scotia. The frost and the melting ... the roads (like the temperature) are up and down like a bubble in a piss pot. I guess I would have an easier time respecting the job if I didn't drive past construction site after construction site seeing the blatant incompetence shine out into the universe like a flashing neon sign. Groups of orange vested and yellow helmeted men (and occasionally what appears to be women) standing around ... watching one guy work. I actually witnessed the guy in the white hat (the foreman) SCRATCHING HIS ASS!!! This is not a safe practice ... to allow people who are late for work, witness you scratching your ass.

I suppose it is not dissimilar to how it works in an office. The guy at the top stands around scratching his ass all day and as the pay scale decreases, the workload increases ... until you get down to the lowest level - in the case of the construction crew, that would be flaggers ... in the case of an office, it would be the greeter/receptionist position. These are the people who need to get danger pay. They are the ones that stand in front of all the blatant incompetence oozing down hill toward them daily. Alas ... as with much of today's world - injustice prevails and "little guy"s all over the world sigh in semi-silent protest.

Here's to a construction free trip home!