Gentle Reader, just as I was ready to be finished, to have done with and pack up this little blog series a few things happened to day to suggest that the show ain't over yet. Where shall I begin?
Well, how about with my lovely little head cold. I still got out to walk around six miles today, three both ways to my favourite Saturday café in south Kerrisdale where I happily sequester myself in a comfy chair in the back corner with the best view in the joint, sipping quality espresso and munching on a chocolate cookie on steroids while drawing and colouring in my sketchbook one of my interminable series of exotic birds in Georgia O'Keeffe-esque leaf and flower settings. It is fun to help provide a little ambience, I suppose, and also enjoyable with some of the little chats that come up between me and other patrons, though the best part of being there is simply chilling and not really having to think about much of anything, really.
I did start the day a bit later than usual, having slept in till almost 8:30 (Gasp!) for which I have an applicable excuse. I was awake for two or three hours in the middle of the night trying to breathe despite the congestion. It was also a good excuse to sit up reading my Spanish translation of the Millennium Series, including the Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, by Stieg Larsson. I never saw the movie. I'm mostly through book number two in the trilogy and each volume has more than seven hundred pages. I will probably finish off the series when I'm in Costa Rica for the month of March. Speaking of Costa Rica, when I returned home this afternoon to enjoy a pot of fair trade cocoa made from scratch and a read of the weekend Globe and Mail there was a feature article about the premier of Manitoba who spends two months or longer every year in his Pacific Coast retreat in Tamarindo, Costa Rica, where he lives in a sprawling palace like a pooh bah while the locals subsist in humble shacks. He is conservative of course, hence his lack of basic human values (my apologies to those few conservatives who actually have a moral compass) and as in many parts of that beautiful country, wealthy English speaking foreigners who never bother to learn much Spanish have pushed up property values and other prices so high there that the local Ticos have had to move out. Rather like what certain millionaire Chinese have been doing here in Vancouver and an object lesson, this, that race and nationality have absolute squat to do with being a greedy douche bag laundering their money in other countries.
I did my usual Saturday stuff, beginning with baking bread, then going to the local Shopper's Drug Mart for my weekend Globe and Mail. On my way there, I noticed that the entire block of sidewalk between Granville and Seymour on Drake Street was smeared with dog shit. Unless I was carefully walking right next to the building, there was no way I could have avoided stepping in it. That's right, Gentle Reader, some idiot let his giant dog baby leave one or two big fat piles and revellers and other weekend losers last night stepped in it and tracked it everywhere too loaded from their visits to the local liquor store, bars, and tap houses to know or care. A lot of them probably don't know or care even when they're sobre.
Sorry, but you cannot unread this. You are going to be haunted by this image of smeared dog shit for the rest of your life. Or, stay-tuned for the self-help group for people traumatized by lingering images of smeared dog shit on a sidewalk that I might be organizing online one of these days.
When I arrived in the drug store (I took a shortcut because the exit door was open for someone to leave and it's otherwise a very long walk through the entrance. Don't ask me why those geniuses have designed it this way, probably to force us to have to navigate our way through aisle after aisle crammed to overflowing with useless crap that we don't need but will end up buying anyway because it's there and, well, we are weak. It never works with me, for some reason, probably because for me, feeling that my intelligence is being insulted is the worst possible offence.) There was an affectionate golden lab dog being trained as a therapy dog next to its human who was in the middle of a transaction with the cashier. He was friendly and I enjoyed patting him. I got in line and the lady in front of me chatted with me about the dog, how he is still getting used to humans, and what a nice dog he is and what a shame that some people get angry if you pet their dog without permission. I took great care not to educate her about how for some people a stranger petting their dog is no different than some perv groping their child, but nowadays I seem to know just when to keep my cake hole shut. Then, she invited me to go ahead of her since she had a basket full of stuff and I was just buying the newspaper. I thanked her warmly and the cashier was unusually gracious. It seems that the week before he had kept me waiting and waiting and waiting while the customer ahead of me was dickering about what he was charged for the several cases of Pepsi he was buying. It came my turn and as I was leaving I said gently to the cashier, "and thanks for the apology," as he had done nothing to acknowledge my long wait. This time he was very sweet and gracious about it, perhaps because I expressed my earlier annoyance in the nicest possible Canadian way. (though I did forget to say, "sorry")
On my way home I walked back on the far sidewalk, not wanting to have to avoid stepping in dog shit. I arrived home and phoned city hall. The nice woman who took my call assured me that they would take care of it and I expect that hopefully it's already been pressure washed.
Following breakfast (homemade whole wheat bread with natural peanut butter, strawberry jam, and vintage cheddar on the side), while waiting for the bus, I noticed a man, perhaps my age or so, aggressively hitting on a Mexican woman standing nearby. I say, aggressively, because when he got there he directed at her one of those hard and hungry looks that a starving man usually has when standing in front of a deli display case. He said hi to her, then redirected his attention to her to ask which bus goes as far as Broadway. Now I am pretty sure that he already knew how the buses run here and he just wanted to chat up a potential pickup (young enough to be his daughter by the way). I tried to distract him, by giving him the directions myself. He was amiable enough, but clearly he was out hunting and quickly redirected his attention to the young woman. I overheard that she is from Mexico City and I said to her in Spanish, He estado en la Ciudad de Mexico muchas veces, or I have been to Mexico City many times. Now I am aware of the possibility that they both might have thought that I was competing with the old creep, but my bus soon arrived and since then I only hope that my influence was enough to tell the old guy that should he get any more ideas about the young woman, there will be a witness. But I am assuming that they're both aware that I was simply monitoring the situation and looking out for her interests. I can only hope. Let's just say that I would be surprised if he made it past grade school, and if he does have a functioning brain, then I highly doubt that that was the organ he was thinking with.
When I got off the bus I enjoyed a three mile walk along the Arbutus corridor, an otherwise scenic rail line transformed by Mayor Moonbeam into an interminable, butt-ugly landing strip that will accommodate bicycles as well as pedestrians and, er, folks in wheelchairs. Shameful of Moonbeam, I think, to try to hide his ablist preference for cyclists behind the disabled. Really, why can't we have just one nice walking route in this city that is just for pedestrians (and folks in wheelchairs)? Bikes are vehicles and they belong on the road and I'm sure I am not the only pedestrian who would like respite from them. I have also noticed that every attempt this city hall administration makes at creating parks and public space turns out so utilitarian and ugly that you wonder why do they even bother. I used to be on the city website for input on planning but all my suggestions are routinely ignored and they choose only the ugliest options I have bailed. It's still a lovely and scenic hike and I hope they find something nicer than asphalt to pave it with. As if there aren't worthier things in this city to get one's undies in a knot over.
I did say hi to one middle aged Asian (likely Chinese) man walking his cute little Pomeranian dog. He gave me a decidedly frightened look and kept going. Possibly he doesn't speak English, maybe he has been badly treated by racist whites (not all of us are like that, by the way!), or maybe he's just a snob, I don't know. But I do try to say hi to at least two or three strangers every day, and the odd snub is still okay, because I really like the idea of encouraging people to connect, even if it's just a friendly hi, nice day!
In the café a very kind older lady asked me, mistakenly, if she had taken my place in the lineup, and I assured her that she hadn't and then thanked her for being so kind, because kindness should always be rewarded. Two old women came in, I believe a mother and daughter act. Mom might be ninety or older and I think her daughter would be pushing seventy. I imagine they must live together. They almost never talk to each other while they are having their coffee and muffin together. The old woman, though bent and frail, looks like she's otherwise made of steel. They do not appear to be friendly, not towards anyone. I suspect some kind of story, probably some trauma. On my way out of the coffee shop they were seated on the bench and I wished them both a nice afternoon. They hardly acknowledged me, but that's okay, because, really, I don't know their story. I will be friendly again, not often, maybe in a couple of weeks, out of respect as much as kindness. An elderly couple came inside the café. The husband got up to use the washroom and his jacket fell from his chair onto the floor. I mentioned it to him and he said he would pick it up on his way back. While he was away his wife put it back on the chair for him. I told her that was a very sweet thing to do. When hubby returned he said absolute nothing to acknowledge his wife's kindness and maybe she didn't appear to mind, and maybe after a half century or so of being together they take each other's kindnesses for granted. I don't know. I think one thing that makes for a healthy marriage is never failing to be respectful and appreciative. They look kind of old school. You know the kind I mean. Hubby expects wifey to wipe his ass for him and once she kicks off there will also be a name tag on his bare toe three days later.
In a nutshell, Gentle Reader, this has been my day, today, and this is why we need to start doing a much better job at coexisting and learning community with one another. Even though we're all idiots at times, I still believe in the essential good in us, and regardless of my daily disappointment in others there are always sparks of light that rekindle my hope. Let us do our very best to summon forth the good, in ourselves and in one another. Every day.
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