Tuesday, November 8, 2022

More Snow

There’s a light dusting of snow on the ground. My ferns are collapsing and many plants are bending under the weight of light snow. And it’s likely to snow some more today, but then sun and warmer temperatures are to set it.

This week is going to be a gentle one. We’ve stopped the international advertising because the new announcement about changes to how doctors are paid has us focusing on luring doctors from other provinces. Our docs are now the best paid in Canada; it’s going to hugely help our recruitment campaign. Also, I finished the campaign brochure Nancy wanted for a conference that happens this week. I sent it to the printer this morning.

Yesterday was a gentle day. I spent some good time with Bruno and got the house tidied up after all the mess that always happens when there’s a power failure. And I went into the village to shop for supplies with which to make pad Thai for Merrill, Leo and Issa on Thursday. It was lovely to be bundled up with a blankie on the chaise reading on such a cold day. Meanwhile, Toronto burns.

Di, partner of the very recently deceased, Admiral Nelson, a beloved Corgi cross, is getting a new Corgi cross puppy tomorrow. I am thrilled to think that her sorrow has been replaced with the joy that puppies bring. I saw a little film of Charlie, the new family member, and he is absolutely adorable! I can hardly wait to meet him.

I spent 1 hour and 15 minutes on the phone with the CRA to regain access to my account. Whoa, security procedures can really make accessing one’s own data hard to do. But I got through the process. In 10 days or so, I will get a code in the mail that will complete my new registration. 

I tried to access my account because the CRA sent me a letter confirming my eligibility for the disability tax credit, and I had to download some forms to complete. Next, I wait for 2 months to know if I get any money back for the six years 2016-2021. 

I have always criticized my former sister-in-law, a born again Christian, for monetizing every accident that befell her children. Yet here I am monetizing my disability. If I get a refund, it will pay for the iPad, speech generator programs (one was $700), and appointments with speech therapists (that got me nowhere) that I’ve paid out since the onset of FND.

I reckon that I’m going to make an inventory of the data on the existing Foundation website on a Google spreadsheet so that Dyan (and perhaps others) can identify what to keep as part of the new site, and what we’re going to dump. Then, I hope our committee can meet so I can encourage us to plan what we want from the site so that we can draft an effective RFP. What I know now is that Dyan is action oriented, and clear on procedure. She’ll love my inventory. It will make a complex issue far easier to navigate. 

I’ve nothing on my plate from the clinic currently. I have a string of days all to myself and I love it. I love having nothing to do. It’s so easy in the Winter when yardwork is irrelevant. I love doing nothing. 

My cousin called. To me ‘they’ are all relatives of my adoptive parents. I don’t consider them my anything, but I am always nice to them. There are two I really love. All the children of my father and his siblings vary, of course, but they are part of the population much like my best friends in childhood—the happiest time of my life.

Doug, his sister Marilyn and I were inseparable. I lived as much of every day that I could in their company all through elementary school. They lived two houses away from us. We never ever had a fight. But when we started high school where there were three streams through junior high—general program, university program and accelerated—Doug and Marilyn went into the general program, and I went into accelerated. We were two layers apart. In accelerated, my cohort of about 30 students had most of our academic classes together.  We stayed in our stream. And the day came when I realized my friendship with Doug and Marilyn would never be the same. No one replaced them until I met Dwight in my late thirties. Soul mates of constant contact.

My dad’s family are general program people. They are all people I like a lot. I feel honored to speak with them. But I don’t want to talk too long because we come from different worlds. We have little to nothing in common and it makes me as sad as when I realized Doug, Marilyn and I were going in different directions. My parents family are like nice neighbours to me—easy to like, but not too often.

In the evening, I went through my monologue. I found things I wanted to change, and I feel I’ve got a good script. I think I’ll do it again a few more times, and then start reading it out loud to see how it feels. I’ll know if I’m in early in December. 

I think I’ll invite a few friends here and ask them to bring 2 people I don’t know. I think I’ll host a cocktail party for them and then try doing it in front of an audience and then asking for feedback. But I want to see what happens when I try to speak to them. I want to have an idea what happens when I try to speak to a crowd.

In my script, I stop and pause. In my broken brain, that causes me to lose control of my speech. Then I want to speak in my natural voice. Then I go back to rhyming and control of my speech. Sadly, I want to stutter so they see a great difference from the person who’s appeared fluent until that moment.

I’m getting nervous about being selected, not excited. I’m going to think this through. I think I will try to find someone to go through it with me. 

I’ve to take my car in this morning and I’ll either get it later today or tomorrow. That’s my challenge for today. Then, Bruno by the fire.

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