Friday, Friday

I was delighted that the company I work for actually observes Remembrance Day. I think it's important. I think it's important because we should remember the sacrifices a whole generation made so that we can enjoy the freedom we have today. I can only imagine that for those remaining, they must shake their head somewhat at what the world has become. They got their lives highjacked for about 5 or 6 years and for what? The Jerry Springer show.

But I digress. Ironically enough, I haven't watched a cenotaph cermony in years, but as it was, I took the day to book all my tune up appointments: doctor, dentist and osteopath respectively. Given how I've been feeling lately, I suppose there was a part of me that didn't want to think about my grandparents. I have only one left, and thinking of the grandparents that I've lost makes me think of other people I've lost and my brain doesn't have much
threshold. So, in the end I decided to invest a day in taking care of myself, and felt duly thankful for it.

I was happy for the distraction. I had had a horrible day at work Thursday with sales people essentially making mountains out of molehills. They involved their GM when all that was necessary was a phonecall. It's astonishing what people will do on the basis of assumption. We all do it I suppose, but you know I'm still inclined to pick up the phone and ask someone if they're getting something done. I wouldn't assume they aren't and then start the
email volley.

Sigh. At any rate....

I was out the door for 9 a.m. as I had an 11:20 a.m. appointment with my doctor who is at Bathurst and Wilson. I wanted to give myself plenty of time to get there as I was on transit due to our lack of a permanent vehicle at the moment. The Marine needed our rental care to take his tools to work. It was such a lovely day, that I decided to get some exercise and walk up to Lansdowne subway station. I'm used to buzzing around the city in a car, and you get a totally different perspective when you walk in neighbourhoods.

I still remember a walk I had in my old neighbourhood of Queen St. W. It was a winter's night with a snow storm going full throttle, except it was one of those lovely storms where the snow is sifter steady and the snowflakes as big as tomatoes. It's still one of my fondest memories.

As it was, I got to Landsdowne station and elected to purchase a day pass. I figured I'd be on the TTC at least three times, and for $.50 more, I could gain some flexibility.

So I go up to the kiosk and ask for a day pass. The TTC guys says no. I ask again for a pass. He again says no. I said why. He says because I say so and starts cracking up. So no kudos for comedic genius but I did remark to him that I was just way too tired to get that joke and he had some nerve pulling it on someone without a coffee in them. This just made him laugh harder.

Speaking of coffee, it occurred to me in my seemingly never ending moments of genius, that as I had a TTC day pass the city was truly my oyster. As a result, I was able to get off the train at Spadina and Bloor to get a coffee and muffin at the Second Cup.

I decided to sit in to eat my muffin and take my coffee with me. While doing so, I was entertained by "Goodfellas: Part II". Honestly, the way some people talk is right out of a movie. You almost wonder if it's actors reheasing at large.

So back on transit, I proceeded up to Wilson. That is one long ass ride y'all, not to mention that it's a long ass ride to one of the more depressing areas of town. It's also somewhat freakish going over the 401. You have sense of speed in a car really, but when you go overhead and see them hurtling through, it's frightening in its own way.

So having made good time, it made sense to walk to my doctor's office. Plus I supposed I enjoyed the walk because it slowed me down and just let me experience things. It felt so decadent to be out and about on a weekday, with plenty of time to meander over to where I was going.

I arrived at my doctor's early and read some of the things she has out. One was a book by a doctor. It's a collection of his favourite quotes and they're rather good, however, he feels the need to provide his scintillating commentary on them. By this I mean nuggets like "I hope Jamilla, that you shall remember this." or "Anthony. Remember our time in Belize." Uh. Yeah. I understand that quote on rainbows SO much better now.

I see my doctor. I said Hey, I'm a total stress ball dude. I'm battling my depression. Whatdya think? So she suggests holy basil and rhodeola as an herbal solution or Wellbutrin as a perscriptive help. Of course I said I was trying to watch my diet and exercise which is a load of total crap. Well it's not like these items are not on the radar screen though. So I don't know what I'll do. Part of me wants to take something, part of me doesn't. I don't know why I'm debating it so much. Anti- depressants were so helpful during my last really bad bout, and yet I feel reluctant. Weird.

So I leave my doctor just as the Bathurst bus is arriving at the stop, which leads me to a question: Why - oh why - does this happen when you have all the time in world? Why doesn't this happen when you're late for work or trying to get those standing room only tickets or run into that old paramour you'd really rather not talk to at all, when you're just begging for the arrival of a bus to save you.

So I get off at St. Clair - I hope you've got your Toronto maps out by now to trace my route - and the bus heading eastbound runs a red light so we miss it. This is profoundly annoying. And I think every TTC driver who does it should have his nuts cut off. No. That's too soft. They should have to watch 40 episodes of The Love Boat back to back. Yes. That's metting it out rather nicely I think.

So of course the elderly couple next to me start ranting about it and I'm right there. Right. There. I've got a coffee in me and all the time in the world. He's bitchin'. I'm Right On Brother. He's talking about the petition they started to keep their wheel trans. How the heck are they going to get to appointments? he says. I'm Rage Against the Machine Compadre. Then the next bus came along and I got a seat at the back, my compassion duly spent.

I arrived at Yonge and Davisville. Can you believe this is only half way through my day? Feel free to get a beverage.

Next on the agenda was lunch, but just before this I purchased a copy of The Star. My rationale is that I'm on my own and would like something to read. The truth is that I think I'm becoming addicted to trash tabloids. This is probably justification alone to go on persciption drugs. I mean we're talking about The Star here folks. Herbals just won't be strong enough.

I decided to go to the Tudorish pub that's conveniently located next to my dentist's office. The waitress confirmed that I can seat myself. Then I'm waiting. And waiting. And waiting. I finally say excuse me to a fellow, no doubt the owner, who responds in this withering tone "Yyyyyyyyyyyeeeeeeeeeeeeesssss?".

I say "Can I have a menu?" He looked like he wished the earth would swallow him whole. It was truly a thing of beauty. However in the end, the outrage of his ill advised insolence was more than made up for by one of the nicest meals of fish and chips I have had in quite some time. My mind suitably traumatized by reading about the trails and tribulations of celebrities, I proceeded to the dentist.

When I was ready to be taken a nice assistant came out and led me to the back. He said "Would you like a carrot juice?"

"Pardon me?"

"A carrot juice."

"No I'm good."

I'm then putting my stuff down when he realized I'm getting fillings so we have to go upstairs. So he says

"Would you like a parafin wax hand treatment?"

"Pardon me?"

"A parafin wax hand treatment?"

"Uh. Sure."

So I end up dipping my hand three times in hot lavendar wax. It makes your hands look like Frankenstein's. Then the assistant put my hands in plastic bags, and then in terry cloth mits. I decided to just roll with it.

We get upstairs to the chair. I sit down. He says: Would you like me to turn on the massage pad?"

"Pardon me?"

Next thing I know I have this mat vibrating in intervals along the entire length of my body.

The dentist arrives. She was very nice and she tells me I don't need a needle but they will have to air/sand blast my teeth out. I'm like cool. No problem.

Then she puts blue goggles on me, the kind you'd wear if you were, oh I dunno, moving molten lava around. She then tucked a tissue underneath the bottom of the goggles so it flapped like a flag everytime I breathed. So there I was, mittened, goggled, tissued and vibrating at regular intervals. I felt like Bel Air's answer to Darth Vadar.

An hour later we were done. The other nice thing was that the dentist only charged me 93 bucks per filling because I had explained to the receptionist how me and my poor ass had just lost two cars in three days. Oh yeah. The Marine's car shuffled off this mortal coil last Friday. Little Thunder duly followed on Monday. Still, I thought it was a nice thing for her to do.

Next stop: Osteopath.

Now the osteopath was recommended to me by Ragdoll. I feel if anybody knows a thing or two about bones, it's her. So I decided to give it a try. I eventually found the office after an hour spent in Indigo, where I had another moment of insolence that I had to smack down.

I was sitting on the floor in a corner, because the chairs had been replaced by islands of books. So some hardcore staffer comes along and asks me to get up and use the chairs downstairs, in a rather patronizing tone I might add. So I say in a very loud voice, "Oh. THAAAAAAAAAAAT'S where all the chairs went!" Then I smacked the biggest shit eating grin I could muster on my face and went downstairs. I read the current issue of the Lemon-Aid used car guide and gleaned all the information I needed for free. HATCHA! Take that Indigo!

So I found my osteopath's office just up the street in Yorkville. Nice guy, but the front reception has that old person pee smell. It reminds me of when I volounteered in a nursing home.

My osteopath was very nice. I must admit though that I felt somewhat uncomfortable. I tried to think of myself as Rubenesque as opposed to Potatoesque while I stood in profile and walked around and bent over. He was totally cool. I just like to have female practitioners to avoid this weirdness.

But this dude if FAH. REAL. He found that my left hip rotation was too tight, that four vertebrae in my lumbar spine are twisting to the right, that two verterbrae in my neck are compressed and that my sinuses are way too tight, which is why I'm prone to infections. I don't know what he did, but I felt so much better afterwards. My hips felt like they were even for the first time in, well, ever.

I then met my friend Lady Gallis at Pottery Barn and we ate at 7West. Gallis and I have so much in common I wonder how we ever parted ways after high school. She's probably the only female my age next to the Guru to whom I could say "Aw well, that's the baw up tha slates noo." and she'd totally get it. Weird how we ended up finding each other again at a grocery check out.

After a lovely dinner, her husband (who is also my part-time Chinese numerologist by the way) drove me home. As husband and wife, he and Gallis got along perfectly well, and I have no tension or seething undertone of resentment to report in this blog whatsover. Damn them and their love.

And well, that was Friday.