back again

While wasting time on Facebook the other day, I seen this post that claimed to predict the career a particular person was meant to do, just by answering a few easy questions. I was bored. Hell, I doubted the claim that much that I actually took the damn test. Turns out I was meant to be a writer. Go figure! No Really, that’s what the test determined. Go ahead, take it for yourself. Answer the questions as truthfully as you can, even if you may end up sounding like a true nerd. the link is http://bitecharge.com/play/career/h6

I did a similar test once, as part of some cockamamie employment program our provincial government invented in order to get people off Unemployment Insurance (UIC). The test determined that I would be best fitted to work as a crop duster. I took the damn test three times and each time I got the same answer. Trouble is, I have a fear of both heights and crop dusters.

When I  asked others in the room  what their career was, they all told me the same thing…Crop Dusters. Quite the program our government wasted our tax dollars on. By the way, we don’t have any crop dusters on the entire island.

Talking about careers, mine changed once again. When I look at all the things  I have worked at in my half a century here on earth, it is kind of scary. I started out working in a freezer truck at the age of sixteen. I would dress for the  frigid temperatures, entering the freezer at six in the morning, adorned in my one piece snowmobile suit, and at six in the evening,  my freezing fingers would crank the door handle to leave, letting out a gust of icy cold air into the hot July weather. Talk about looking nerdy….a one piece snowmobile suit while everyone else wore tank tops and shorts (well at least all the hot girls wore that.)

My next position was that of a logger. There were some hot July days where I actually wished to be back in the freezer truck, processing salt fish and other cold things. That one lasted for some twenty years. Eat your heart out Paul Bunyan!

When my back could no longer take the abuse that carrying heavy logs on my skinny shoulders any longer, I quit and went back to school. I did an information Technology program. My mind hurt even more than my back at this time, but as I struggled to keep up with the spring chickens who knew more about technology in their nineteen years on the planet than I managed to muster up, I accomplished my goal.

Seeing that I chose to remain on the island, where there was no work yet for IT (people here had no concept of what IT was in 1998), I took a job at a Radio Shack store, where I used my IT skills to sell and service computer for shitty dollars.

Things got better when I actually quit that position and returned to school once again. I was able to hit a great job afterward where I got to work with terrific people such as KJ. As good jobs go, I was fortunate to be able to help so many with this job. I hated to leave, but seeing how the city was such an expensive place to live, and my missus was able to obtain work back home on the coast, we packed our bags and headed home.

Home to the west coast where work was not plenty full and I was forced to take a job at a gas station. At first I hated it, but it grew on  me. I was able to put a little bit of myself into  the position, such as playing practical jokes on staff members had generally having a laugh working with the public. In the end, I was quite happy with this job.

Until yesterday. That was the day that I got the call. A chance to return to a position that I truly loved, and one that utilized some of the knowledge I had gained through the IT training.  That’s right, I get to work with KJ again. Well not directly, actually from  a campus across the island from her, but generally the same job that she is doing. I will be good to get reacquainted with her again.

You should never give up if you are not happy with your life. To those who truly believe in themselves, good things happen. Now if I can only get used to the 45 minute commute to and from work….sure beats crop dusting

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salsa before bed

I’m dreaming again, this time even more horrifying than the last nightmare. Trouble is, I remember each and every thing I encountered in this one, even if it makes no sense at all. That’s the trouble with nightmares, the mind’s revenge on me for eating such a large meal before bedtime. I think it was the salsa.

The dream started early. I think I only shut my eyes for a little while and right away I am right into the dream. I am sitting in a large living room where two other beings are on a couch directly across from me. One is dressed in blue and the other in a bright red. The blue one leans over the arm of the chair and the red one goes directly under the blue one, mouth fully open. As I stare at the two, a long length of sticky fluid the resembled saliva drops from the mouth of the blue and into the red one’s mouth.

Soon afterwards the red one is joined by other creatures, all wearing similar red clothing, and the entire group writhe and wiggle over the body of the red one who apparently ate the saliva. The whole thing reminded me of worms wiggling in the dirt, but it also reminded me of some  sort of mating ritual.

The strange thing with  my dreams is that I often awake from sheer terror, and when I drop back to sleep, I am right back in the middle of the terror. This happened again last night.

Now the beings noticed me. The red dressed ones begin to slither across the floor towards me. They make snarling noises as they quickly approach  me. Just as they reach my now frozen body (I try to scream for help, but I am unable to move or make any sort of sound. I think I am in the middle of a hag) the one in blue lets our a loud howl and the red beings return to his side. He gives me a small wink and I am free to go.

By this time, I have already awaken everyone in the house with my screams. After a cup of tea and a few paces around the living room I fall back to sleep, only to find myself not only back in the same nightmare, but into a dungeon of sorts, slime falling from the walls, and at my feet, the slithering bodies of the red dressed creatures. They are feeding on me now, I can feel sharp teeth tear at my flesh. I wake up once again, and this time I drink a strong cup of coffee. I never went back to sleep that night. In fact, I am afraid to go to sleep tonight.

One thing I did notice. The best before date on the salsa was January 2014. Next time I think I will check the expiry date before I eat anything I find in the back of the pantry.

 

missing: White Lady in the Hood

Since beginning my blog life, I have come across some very special people. Some have come and gone, but the real special ones continued to read and comment on my posts, as well as write their own amazing stories, which I have always enjoyed reading. One such blogger was White Lady in the Hood. This lady had some great stories to tell, and I couldn’t wait to read them. It appears that she has disappeared from the blogsphere. Does anyone know how she is doing and if she is okay?

Tying Knots….or Just Got Married

My grandfather was good at tying knots. Unlike knots these days,  the knot that my grandfather tied lasted over 70 years. These days it seems as if people are tying slip-knots.

My dad wasn’t too bad at knot tying either. His knot is fifty years strong and  still holding tight. I can only hope that the knot I tied on July 26 will last as long.

To try and figure out just why the knots lasted so long is beyond anyone’s guess, but if my grandfather were alive today, he would attribute it to love and devotion. I can see that love and  devotion in my parent’s eyes as well.

The wedding went great. Through almost a year’s planning, everything went over without a hitch. Well, almost.

We decided on rental tuxedos. We asked around and the establishment that we chose promised to do  a great job. We got fitted in February and the tuxes only arrived on July 23…and mine was too small.  The only thing that fit right was the cuff links! A 45 minute trip to a neighbouring city and a refit and two days later another 45 minute trip to get the suits….one day before the wedding. Lucky it fit or I would be getting hitched in my jeans and a t-shirt. My bride would like that one…

All that aside, everything went great. Candice’s family arrived from Alberta and set themselves up at a hotel in town, and we all attended the rehearsal together. Both families gathered for the first time and we had lunch together.

On Saturday, the weather was hot but sunny and dry. The photographer arrived and the women and men dressed in separate houses. I wasn’t permitted to see Candice as tradition didn’t allow it. Once the men had their tuxedos on, we posed for pictures in my parents’ backyard and the ladies did the same in our yard. Hell, even the dogs got their pictures taken with Candice.

My beautiful bride rode to the church in her father’s 1986 Pontiac Parisienne, the pride and joy of her family. Her grandfather bought the car the year that he retired, and with barely 60,000 clicks on thing, it wasn’t used much since. Earlier that morning everyone got together and gave the old girl (the car, not her grandmother) a good waxing and vacuuming.

I don’t think anyone was ready for the church we chose. Steeped in tradition and elegance, Our Lady of Mercy church stood tall in the large lot where it was erected way back in August of 1914. Originally built for the growing community of Aguathuna, the church was set to serve the growing community of miners who worked at the local limestone quarry. Maps from the era showed where the community was destined to become the province’s first city. That all fell through when the mine closed and most of the citizens left for greater fortunes elsewhere.  The church no longer belongs to the Catholic Church. It has been sold to a heritage group known as The Gravels. This organization is responsible for the church’s  upkeep and often rents the building for weddings.

Myself  and my groomsmen arrived at the church first. We needed to ensure that we were ready for the ceremony (At least that’s what the minster said. He said that all too often grooms arrive late or not at all.) The room  where we gathered looked as if nobody had entered the room in years. An antique pipe organ sat in the middle of the room, and a few church pews and a small alter adorned the wall behind us. The  minister explained that this room was used when the congregation was small, and the outside church was used when the place bustled with parishioners.  While we explored the old records and other antiques in the room, the ladies arrived.

I had everything under control (ya right) and wasn’t even breaking a sweat when the church music began. The song “Love Never Fails’ began to play and that was our cue to enter the church and take our place.  The first to walk up the aisle was my son, accompanied by my two nieces. He had a smile ear to ear he walked up the aisle. Next were our bridesmaids, who each stopped next to the pew where me and my groomsmen stood, and took their corresponding partner to the front of the church. Cool and collective, I wiped my now sweaty palms against my pants leg. The song changed to one my lady and I chose earlier that week. The song was called “How Beautiful”, and ironically, the minute the lyric “How Beautiful’ played, the church doors sprung open and there she was. Half the congregation looked at my bride, but a few stared at me, and my reaction to the most beautiful woman  I had ever laid eyes on. I anxiously awaited her father to accompany her up the aisle, and when  he did,  we shook hands and he presented my future wife to me.

The minister gave a delightful sermon,  as he explained why people should marry.  “It isn’t due to money or riches or convenience, it has to be about love. Not the word love, but for all the things that love brings.” He went on to say that true love is so much more than words, that it can  mean standing in front of a bus for the one you love. That is how special true love is” Great sermon that really made some people think.

Afterwards we posed for pictures along the picturesque areas surrounding the church and on the beaches nearby. Later we rode in the pontiac and headed for our backyard where our photographer continued to take pictures of my beautiful bride, myself, and our family and friends. Later we headed for the club for supper and our reception. One of the good things about being a wedding dj is that I got to create a playlist and play my own wedding. Don’t worry, I charged myself a fortune!

A dance with my bride to the Keith Urban song “Making Memories of Us”, a dance with my mom, my bride’s dance with her grandfather and her dad, and finally our entire wedding party gathered  to dance to the Nathan  Carter tune “Wagon Wheel” (If you haven’t heard of this young man, do yourself a favor and check out his albums on iTunes. At only 24 years of age, this young Irishman is one of the  most talented singers I have ever heard)

As soon  as the dances were over, we thanked everyone for coming and I turned on my playlist. The crowd danced into the wee morning hours and everyone commented on the great time they had. …and now a few wedding pics….