Saturday, December 10, 2022

Well, I heard from the monologue festival. They wrote to say that I will hear within a month; judges have been engaged to make the selections.

I did it!!! I have successfully learned how to merge our newsletter with our mailing list so that the newsletters address the recipients by their first name. I feel as though I have conquered Everest. And I can now segment our list; I can create subgroups within our list so that I can send personalized mail to portions of our list. Dear readers, I rock. What a learning curve I have been on!

Friday began clear and bright. Our walk with our friends was lovely because Di was with us. She’s been MIA since her beloved Nelson died, but she joined us yesterday with Charlie, her now Corgi cross puppy. After the walk, I went into the village to shop and to go to the post. Then it was home to do clinic work on the newsletter.

Early in the afternoon, the sky darkened so much that I had to turn lights on in the house. And then I heard a sound I hadn’t heard in ages—the sound of heavy rain on the roof. Our Summer lasted until mid-October. Every day was sunny. And then, when the clouds came and temperatures fell, there was still no rain. Instead, we have very early snow. And then more snow. Yesterday was one of very few days of rain we’ve had.

I cleaned like a fiend yesterday afternoon. I exhausted my old self doing lots of things I’d put off for weeks and months. It felt good to move around the house and see nothing needing doing. Once done, I got comfy in my big daddy chair by the fire and summoned Guido. It was lovely to be so cozy and warm; outside, it was so dark and wet, Sheba would not go for our usual afternoon walk.

I must learn a new skill, and that makes me anxious. However, the reward is great.

I have, and now manage, the Foundation membership list. I load our list into the software with which I build the newsletter to deliver it electronically to all our members. The first goes out next week, and I am ready. Then comes a Christmas letter from the President to our members, and for that I need to learn how to pull the names off our data base and into the text of the newsletter. This allows us to personalize our communications.

As I amalgamate tasks—managing the mailing list, copywriting, graphics—I am creating quite a powerful tool for the Foundation. What I do is giving a whole new look to Foundation operations under the direction of Dyan, our new President. I am solidly team Dyan. Her allegiance neutralizes the sometimes challenge of relations with Nancy.

When I started volunteering, I got a new hard drive and I have saved all my files on it. The hard drive is named Clinic and is visible on my desktop, Foundation files are scattered on the home hardware of the operational board members.

I really feel good again about working at the clinic. I’ve been new volunteer, committee member of the communications committee, and Be Our Doctor campaign, probationary board member, board member and soon executive member. It all began on May 16th, 2022, seven months ago. That was the date of the orientation meeting. I’d been through preliminary screenings to get to this meeting.

We came to Gabriola as a young lad, and that Summer I met Jeannie Comber. Her dad was a vice-president of the Pacific National exhibition. Later that Summer, I met Jeannie at the gates into the fair, and we got admission, tickets to any ride we wanted, and even food, by showing the vendors our Silver Pass.

As soon as we got into the fair, we got in the lineup for the roller coaster. Back then, it you were content to wait longer, you could get the front seat. That’s what Jeannie and I did. And when we got to the end of the ride where everyone has to get out of the coaster cars, Jeannie showed her pass, and we went around again. I believe we rode the coaster 17 times. 

We both loved the roller coaster. We were sympatico. Every time we went around the track, the same thing happened to us both. We’d crest the last hill and start our descent into the disembarkation place, and we’d be disappointed that it was over. So, we’d go again.

At my age, with my lunch box of medications, I’ve been feeling a little bit like I crested that last hill a while back. The view is good, the thrill of moving is still with you, but you know it’s soon to end. But as we emerged from the forest on our morning walk this morning, my dear friend Di, 83 and caring for a man dealing with chronic pain after getting a spinal operation, told me about having had to climb a ladder in the dark so that she could pour diesel into the something or other, in the backyard. 

Okay, there might be time to crest another hill.

Last night was nasty, very nasty. Another storm came howling through the Strait of Georgia. My yard and roofs are covered in branches and twigs. We had several short power failures, but everything is working this morning, and it’s warmed up considerably. It’s raining, so our walks will be short today. We need this rain. Tomorrow, a week of sunshine begins according to the weather forecast.

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