Price Gouge!

Saturday was a delicious day. It was a brilliant afternoon with temperatures reaching 24°. Our day began with a visit to the farmer’s market. It was the last one of the year so it was lovely but also kind of sad.

When I came home, I went over to Ursula and Dave’s place to ask them to get some of the hydraulic oil that we needed. There is none here on Gabriola. Ursula asked me to give her a note to take with her, bearing the name and model number of our machine, so I went online to the Canadian Tire website. I. bought the splitter there. And what an unpleasant surprise was in store for me. Our splitter, which cost us $1,300 plus taxes, was listed for $699! I was appalled, so Ursula is going into the store with my receipt to demand a refund—and to get the oil. 

I read for the rest of the afternoon, and then got ready. To go to Stacy’s for dinner. And what a blast dinner was. At the dinner table, we fell into quite a discussion about children’s rights, a passion of mine. And things got semi-intense (but always warm and respectful) between me and Bryce, who was a judge. It was a great discussion.

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So, here’s how the shock of the day happened…. I went over to Ursula and Dave’s to ask Ursula, Grievin and Sarah to get some hydraulic oil while they are on the big island. They are going to Ursula’s son’s place in Victoria for Thanksgiving dinner. They were fine with getting the oil, but they asked me to give them a note with the name of the machine and the model number, so I came home to look it up.

I went to the Canadian Tire website, and I was shocked and sickened to see that the wood splitter, for which we’d paid $1,299, was listed at $699.00! It’s now almost half the price, so I went back to Ursula with the receipt and all the data that she wanted, and I told her about the price. She is going to demand that they match the new price and return the difference.

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And now it is Sunday, my day to loaf. Her Highness and I are walking with the big community dog walk, and then I’m coming home to read and putter around the house. I love Sundays. 

Summer-like Days

This video, and others like it, make me weep. To see young people, from both indigenous and colonialist cultures, singing together and keeping the indigenous culture alive, moves me deeply. I just love to see how the human voice, raised in song and chant, proudly celebrates a culture. And the thrill of the audience tells me my sentiments are shared by everyone exposed to the magic of cultural expression.

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Friday was another gorgeous day. It started cool but became a lovely warm day in the afternoon with the temperature reaching 24°. It was a truly lovely day, and it had a wonderful start with all of us joining our little dog walking team to celebrate Regina’s birthday. We had muffins for a treat from Di, and we walked together in bliss about the weather.

Then I came home to bake a tart to take to Stacy’s for dinner tonight. And then, after lunch, the plan was for Greivin and Sarah to come over to see if we could get the wood splitter running. I had oil and gas at the ready, and so I thought I was ready to go. But no. We need hydraulic oil as well as motor oil, and there’s none on the island. Ursula, Grievin and Sarah are going to Victoria on Sunday. I’m going to ask them to get the oil when they are on the big island.

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I haven’t touched monologue two for a few days. I was starting to think in rhyme, so I knew I needed a break. However, the success of the one I’ve just done encourages me, so I’m going to get back to it starting tomorrow. I really enjoy the writing and I’ll go over it and then I’ll ask a few friends to read it. It will change a lot if I decide to memorize it, and it’ll continue to change when I start saying it aloud. 

All I want to know is this: Recalling your esteem for my monologue, I would like to know if this second monologue works in partnership with the first monologue. Is it satisfying, or a let-down, positioned after the first monologue and presented as an evening of two monologues in a fringe festival.

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Some of my research into FND has me remembering the oddest things sometimes. When we had the Zoom call, us late-onset stutterers, every one of the new ones has FND. And, as I wrote before, I tend to emphasize acceptance and adaptation. Yesterday, I asked myself: Have I given up hope? And I think I have. I do not anticipate getting my speech back and being less reactive.

So, then I wonder: Is giving up hope a pre-requisite of acceptance? Anyway, I digress… In the Zoom meeting with the new members, as a joke when I was speaking about finding peaceful coexistence with one’s symptoms, I said: As people with physical symptoms of neurological disorder, we can think of ourselves as proud members of the family of witches. It’s true. It’s in a medical book on migraine headaches written by Oliver Sacks.

For me, growing up with no family history, having a link to something historical is fulfilling. It connects me to the family of man. I always felt outside/disconnected.

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Today will be a lovely slow day. It’s a gorgeous day and I’ve already had an early morning spa soak, so her Highness and I will go to the last farmers’ market today, and this afternoon I’ll be reading in the sunshine before going to Stacy’s for dinner.

The Horror of Praise

I can hardly wait to see4 All The Light We Cannot See. It’s coming to Netflix on November 2^nd. I loved every page of the book.  It’s a wonderful story on the page, and I see in this preview that Hugh Laurie, a fabulous actor, plays Etienne Le Blanc. 

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Yesterday began cloudy but quickly turned into a truly lovely warm day. And hooray! I got my home insurance at half the price of my former insurer. What a great relief it is to have insurance at an affordable annual cost. And, thanks to Kris, I am in the process of securing a wonderful new way of relating to Vancity Credit Union (where I bank) whenever I have need for a consultation. That, too, is a huge relief for me.

Much of my morning, yesterday, was taken up with a Zoom call with my UK stuttering group. It was a great session and everyone in it was given a link to my monologue after Stacy, our leader, told everyone about it.

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I have an uncomfortable relationship with praise. How could anyone not like praise? You’d think everyone likes it, and I do, in a way. But the pleasure is vastly, enormously, and painfully outweighed by the horror of being the centre of attention. 

Steve and our friends threw a surprise birthday party for me once, and they all were part of buying me a return ticket to France. The party was a surprise, and there were about 40 people in our house. But then, Steve had everyone gather in our dining living room, and he sat me on a chair to receive my gift.

I opened it, saw the ticket and then raised my head to face my firing squad. I had intense physical pain from my level of anxiety. Steve was filming the whole thing, and at the big moment when I open the envelope, he zoomed in, and you can see the horror in my face. My hands are on my head because I feel like the back of my head is going to blow off. And if you look at my face, you immediately wonder what is wrong.

That was one of the most painful emotional experiences of my life. And whereas I love doing my little shows, the interaction with friends and strangers afterwards is painful because everyone wants to be nice to me. I’ve asked for it by performing, but I understand the afterwards after as the price I pay.

With the monologue, a few of my friends have seen me perform it, but most have seen it online, and so praise is coming via video call or email and one at a time. This time, it’s far, far more comfortable for me. But I’m glad the film was of a performance, not me as talking head. 

I don’t. have stage fright, I have audience fright.

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I now have email contact with my bank manager, and his business card. He has written that I am free to contact the bank through him. As per usual, when I am the beneficiary of human kindness and generosity of heart, I get emotionally overwhelmed—with relief, gratitude, happiness, success … so many things.

Kris was central to solving my two most grievous communication problems. Fixing the bank was the last fix I needed. I am now fully adapted. It’s taken 7 years to get here. I’m having Thanksgiving dinner with Kris, her sister and our friends this weekend, and I’m going to make a toast to her.

•

I knew I liked boys when I was 7 or 8 years old. I played with neighbourhood boys when we were very young and innocent-ish. I didn’t come out until I was twenty-four. I practiced in Europe. When I went to live in Nice, I came out to my best friend there. She was the first person I told. Word spread amongst our mutual friends, and I got comfortable with people I knew I wouldn’t ever see again once I came home.

But that was not a conscious plan. I just went to France to learn French. But when I met Marie-Claude, I found a soul mate. She was a teacher in a language program in which I had enrolled, she taught the third term class. When I finished first term, the university did not offer a course for the second term, so I started studying on my own. Marie-Claude saw me studying and invited me to join her class.

I feared being the class dummy, but I joined her class, and it was wonderful. Marie-Claude was very impressed by my effort to learn, and so she started inviting me to do things to practice speaking and to expand my vocabulary, and we quickly became close friends. And then I moved in with her. Coming out to her was the best gift I could give her. I told her that’s how much I liked her. I wanted her to know the truth because I loved her. She was giving me French.

It had been a long journey, but there was societal crime and shame attached to being gay back then. Sixteen years of angst attached to love. I came out because I had to. I was suffering in the closet. It had nothing to do with being proud for me. Sixteen years to adapt to acceptance and adjustment to being gay. And seven years to accept and adjust to having a speech and seizure disorder (due to FND).

•

I had a long Zoom session yesterday. It was with my UK Late-Onset Stuttering support group. We recently added some new members, and it was really fun for me because I share hosting duties with Tracy, a fluent speech language therapist and volunteer with STAMMA. STAMMA is our host, and Tracy is their rep, and Tracy asked me to co-host. Only yesterday did I see the value of that.

With no plan, Tracy and I focused on the new people. Tracy talks about patterns and her experience as a therapist in general terms, and I talk about the personal experience of adjustment. I think we did one hell of a good job yesterday. I’m really proud of how we were the face of our community for people like us. 

My mantra is: Neither a doctor, nor a speech therapist, nor a neurologist will be your best resource going forward. Your future will be made by you. You will put information from many sources together to form an understanding of your condition, and you will adjust to FND and poor speech. We will be a valued and credible resource for you, and a place of safe harbour.I can hardly wait to see4 All The Light We Cannot See. It’s coming to Netflix on November 2^nd. I loved every page of the book.  It’s a wonderful story on the page, and I see in this preview that Hugh Laurie, a fabulous actor, plays Etienne Le Blanc. 

•

Yesterday began cloudy but quickly turned into a truly lovely warm day. And hooray! I got my home insurance at half the price of my former insurer. What a great relief it is to have insurance at an affordable annual cost. And, thanks to Kris, I am in the process of securing a wonderful new way of relating to Vancity Credit Union (where I bank) whenever I have need for a consultation. That, too, is a huge relief for me.

Much of my morning, yesterday, was taken up with a Zoom call with my UK stuttering group. It was a great session and everyone in it was given a link to my monologue after Stacy, our leader, told everyone about it.

•

I have an uncomfortable relationship with praise. How could anyone not like praise? You’d think everyone likes it, and I do, in a way. But the pleasure is vastly, enormously, and painfully outweighed by the horror of being the centre of attention. 

Steve and our friends threw a surprise birthday party for me once, and they all were part of buying me a return ticket to France. The party was a surprise, and there were about 40 people in our house. But then, Steve had everyone gather in our dining living room, and he sat me on a chair to receive my gift.

I opened it, saw the ticket and then raised my head to face my firing squad. I had intense physical pain from my level of anxiety. Steve was filming the whole thing, and at the big moment when I open the envelope, he zoomed in, and you can see the horror in my face. My hands are on my head because I feel like the back of my head is going to blow off. And if you look at my face, you immediately wonder what is wrong.

That was one of the most painful emotional experiences of my life. And whereas I love doing my little shows, the interaction with friends and strangers afterwards is painful because everyone wants to be nice to me. I’ve asked for it by performing, but I understand the afterwards after as the price I pay.

With the monologue, a few of my friends have seen me perform it, but most have seen it online, and so praise is coming via video call or email and one at a time. This time, it’s far, far more comfortable for me. But I’m glad the film was of a performance, not me as talking head. 

I don’t. have stage fright, I have audience fright.

•

I now have email contact with my bank manager, and his business card. He has written that I am free to contact the bank through him. As per usual, when I am the beneficiary of human kindness and generosity of heart, I get emotionally overwhelmed—with relief, gratitude, happiness, success … so many things.

Kris was central to solving my two most grievous communication problems. Fixing the bank was the last fix I needed. I am now fully adapted. It’s taken 7 years to get here. I’m having Thanksgiving dinner with Kris, her sister and our friends this weekend, and I’m going to make a toast to her.

•

I knew I liked boys when I was 7 or 8 years old. I played with neighbourhood boys when we were very young and innocent-ish. I didn’t come out until I was twenty-four. I practiced in Europe. When I went to live in Nice, I came out to my best friend there. She was the first person I told. Word spread amongst our mutual friends, and I got comfortable with people I knew I wouldn’t ever see again once I came home.

But that was not a conscious plan. I just went to France to learn French. But when I met Marie-Claude, I found a soul mate. She was a teacher in a language program in which I had enrolled, she taught the third term class. When I finished first term, the university did not offer a course for the second term, so I started studying on my own. Marie-Claude saw me studying and invited me to join her class.

I feared being the class dummy, but I joined her class, and it was wonderful. Marie-Claude was very impressed by my effort to learn, and so she started inviting me to do things to practice speaking and to expand my vocabulary, and we quickly became close friends. And then I moved in with her. Coming out to her was the best gift I could give her. I told her that’s how much I liked her. I wanted her to know the truth because I loved her. She was giving me French.

It had been a long journey, but there was societal crime and shame attached to being gay back then. Sixteen years of angst attached to love. I came out because I had to. I was suffering in the closet. It had nothing to do with being proud for me. Sixteen years to adapt to acceptance and adjustment to being gay. And seven years to accept and adjust to having a speech and seizure disorder (due to FND).

•

I had a long Zoom session yesterday. It was with my UK Late-Onset Stuttering support group. We recently added some new members, and it was really fun for me because I share hosting duties with Tracy, a fluent speech language therapist and volunteer with STAMMA. STAMMA is our host, and Tracy is their rep, and Tracy asked me to co-host. Only yesterday did I see the value of that.

With no plan, Tracy and I focused on the new people. Tracy talks about patterns and her experience as a therapist in general terms, and I talk about the personal experience of adjustment. I think we did one hell of a good job yesterday. I’m really proud of how we were the face of our community for people like us. 

My mantra is: Neither a doctor, nor a speech therapist, nor a neurologist will be your best resource going forward. Your future will be made by you. You will put information from many sources together to form an understanding of your condition, and you will adjust to FND and poor speech. We will be a valued and credible resource for you, and a place of safe harbour.

•

I wrote a post for yesterday but forgot to post it. It's below.

Splitter Assembly

Wednesday dawned iffy. There was a dense cloud cover, but there were periodic periods of brightness and sunshine. I’m now routinely lighting the fire in the morning to warm the house for the day. I love being warm. I did domestic errands in the morning and then took Her Highness for a trail walk before heading into town to deliver all my recyclables to GIRO, our recycling depot. 

After that, I went grocery shopping to get supplies for a tart I’m going to make to take to Stacy’s on Saturday. And then it was off to my meeting with the insurer at the bank before coming home for lunch and then the arrival of Grey and Sarah. They came over from next door to help me assemble the wood splitter. 

And oh … putting togther the splitter. What a job. The box was too heavy to lift, so I loaded parts into the wheelbarrow to move them onto the deck where we could work on assembly. It is one heavy piece of machinery! The instructions were nasty, but with three of us to consult together, we got the monster assembled. Today, I’ll pick up some oil and gasoline and tomorrow, Greivin and Sarah will come back, and we’ll try firing the thing up.

François arrived just before six in his amazing new electric car. It is so space age and sleek. It was thrilling to go for a drive in it. And dinner at Woodfire was fabulous. Plus, I was home early and in bed at nine. Sometimes I go to bed mighty early. But then I get up early too. I was up and raring to go at five this morning.

I’ve a Zoom meeting this morning with my UK stutter group, and I hope to resolve my insurance quest today.