BYKTW Day

I was in the drug store yesterday dropping off an Rx. It had been a most terrible day so I picked up a few things and decided to use the self-serve machine because, quite frankly, I didn't want to hear anyone say "Have a nice day." I swiped everything that I bought, but before I could pay, the machine said I had to show my ID to the cashier that was on the register next to the self-serves. After finally getting her attention she said, "You can't use that machine if you're purchasing alcohol." Her attitude was rather snotty if you ask me. I looked at her and thought, "Don't kill her, just don't kill her. Stay calm and no one will get hurt." What person—a woman who should have seen the signs and known better—would be snotty to a woman wearing a Bring Your Kid to Work Day t-shirt and buying tampons, chocolate and wine coolers? Now doesn't that just scream watch out! Woman on the edge? There wasn't enough alcohol in those (yes, those) wine coolers to wipe out a day taking care of 39 children who don't belong to me. Mine are bad enough (which is why I don't bring any of them to work). One child was obviously in need of serious attitude-adjusting drugs. I told his mom later that I had to have a talk with him and she said "Yeah, I forgot to give him his medicine today." What???!!! How could you forget to give your ADD kid his meds when you know you're taking him into your place of employment for the day? Heck, I would have given him an extra dose! Don't think we won't be talking about her for a long time. BYKTW Day is so not in my job description!

Happy Trails to You

My dork of an ex decided that he was going to hike the PCT after he retired from the Navy. After all the bragging online about his previous stint as a sniper in the Marines (while he was in college no less—funny how they couldn't find his USMC service record when he join the Navy) and world-wide hiking history, he finally started on the hike two days ago. On day one, he ran out of water, steps on a rattlesnake, gets stung by a bee (did I mention his allergy), got attacked by a hummingbird (a really, really big, man-eating bird), and injured his knee falling. On day two he quit. I am so laughing my ass off.

Phantom & the need for new glasses

I was so excited last Friday because I was going to see the Phantom. Well sort of. The first hint should have been that it was playing in Escondido, not San Diego. The second hint should have been that I got tickets the week of the performance. When I read the announcement in the newspaper I didn't notice that it was just Phantom not Phantom of the Opera. Hence, the need for new glasses.

When my sister and I arrived we discovered it wasn't Andrew Lloyd Webber's Phantom, it was by Yetsen & Kopit. You remember those two? According to Wikipedia it is " frequently described as the most successful musical never to have played on Broadway." Well I have to differ in that opinion. It was horrid. There wasn't one memorable song in the whole play (or at least until the intermission because we left after that). It was all filler music. There were quite a few scenes that were comical, was it supposed to be funny? One scene was too funny but it wasn't supposed to be. Christine was in the room with the phantom when Raoul runs to her door shouting, "Christina, let me in," as he bangs on the door. Unfortunately the door does open from his banging, so he had to quickly pull it shut while still shouting "Christina, let me in!" The whole audience roared with laughter.

At least I had a better time last week when I went to see Wicked up in LA with a few friends from work. Now that was a fantastic play & I would definately see it again. We went up and did the whole tourist thing, looked at the stars in the sidewalk, checked out the cement handprints and walked down Rodeo Drive. As many times as I went to LA (or should I say the Valley) I never go to see Hollywood because my ex, pfl (pig-faced larry, with no caps because he doesn't deserve to be a noun), didn't want to drive in from West Covina because: 1) the traffic was terrible 2) the streets are crowded 3) there's too many people (pick the excuse you wish, he used them all). So instead my whole LA experience was going to the mall in West Covina. Yeah.

I still have Webber's Phantom music in my head. I feel cheated.

The Captain & the Kid

There's a song by Jimmy Buffett called Captain & the Kid that always, always, makes me cry. He wrote it for his grandfather & it reminds me of my dad, Captain Fred Durnford. He died when I was 19, before I got to know him as a person. Dad was a captain in the merchant marines, plying the St. Lawrence River and later when I was a teenager (and living with him & my step-mom) he was a captain in the Canadian Coast Guard.

He was always a mystery to me. First, I never met him until I was seven because my parents were separated and I lived in a different country. Plus they didn't get along well—that's an understatement. Also, he was a man of few words so he never talked about himself or his past. Perhaps if I had been a little older, and not such a self-centred teenager, I would have gotten to know him. But it's too late.

I vaguely remember meeting him for the first time. I have snatches of a memory of a party in my step-aunt's basement and me sitting on his lap, but it's a very, very vague memory. The story goes that I met him and sat on his lap all night without moving, I was so enamoured with him. The reason that the story is amazing is that my father's face was badly scared & his right hand consisted of three large stumps. He had been badly burned in the war and he was a bit frightening in small children's eyes. But, supposedly I didn't flinch or even notice. Too bad I don't remember much.

Year's later when I was a teenager I never even thought that his face was "different" it was all I ever knew so when I saw pictures of him before the war he looked strange to me. He wasn't the dad that I knew. It also created problems with new friends that I'd bring over to the house because I'd forget to forewarn them about his face and hand.

It was at his funeral that I started to realize what an amazing person my father was. The whole crew from the two ships my dad worked on were at the funeral in their dress blues (which I think half of them had to borrow). We're talking about 150 guys. And the flowers, they were busting out of the church. There were flowers from ships that he hadn't worked on in 20 years. News had spread up and down the St. Lawrence River in a heartbeat and they all sent flowers or came to the funeral. I stood there and thought, "Wow, he was pretty respected."

I never thought that I looked like my father, or my mother if truth be told. I was on the ferry on the way to Newfoundland & I ran into my aunt and some old family friends that I had never met. We were all going over for my aunt & uncle's 50th anniversary. This man came in and my aunt said, "Guess who this is?" And without skipping a beat he said, "That's Fred's daughter." I was shocked, I do look like him! I was so proud at that moment.

So the reason that The Captain & the Kid makes me cry is because of a comment that my father said to my sister just before he died. Dad was finally going to retire and bought a little boat. He took my sister down to see it; the sister who gets sea sick in a bathtub. He started walking down the pier and was about half way down when he realized that she wasn't behind him because the rocking pier scared her. So he came back, tucked her hand in the crook of his arm, patted it, and said, "You know if Cynde was here she'd be on the boat already." Even though I never mentioned that I loved the sea as much as him, he figured it out.

He's the Captain, I'm the kid.