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Scotch, Tylenol, Advil, Ibuprofen
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 2438
I've a toothache.
Nasty, nasty toothache. And while I'm taking a veritable concert of medications (currently on the Scotch and Advil Mix), it's still there.
After you take the pill, an hour, maybe two, where you forget that it's there. Well, not forget, but you feel pretty good comparatively.
Then it begins to throb, intermittent.
Occasional waves of fever as the bacteria attack the body. I'm pretty sure I'll live but it's unpleasant nonetheless.
I swill my mouth with diet pop, salt water, Listerine, Scotch.
I can't brush, can't even think of brushing at the moment...
26 days until benefits kick in. I'm pretty sure it'll be gone in the next 2 or three days; but I have a huge phobia of dentists. Immense phobia. Early experiences with modern dentistry, all unpleasant, I'd just as soon see a barber or shoemaker for the extraction and necessary repairs. Couldn't hurt more and would probably cost a hell of a lot less.
So forgive me for not writing at greater length. I can't talk, I have a toothache.
Garage Sale 2010 - Week 5
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 2097
I overslept.
I never, ever oversleep on Garage Sale day, but I've come down with a major toothache, the extra-strength Tylenol's, Advil Gel-caps and bottle of Scotch only slightly numbing the pain, but such a fine buffet of painkillers did help me to sleep in.
Despite the late start a few worthwhile ones - hundreds dotting the city, but went for the area along the Elbow river - the first sale a bunch of interesting knick-knacks from South East Asia, picked up another Bali mask, similar (but not identical) to another one I have that took some damage in the move. And an X-box game and slingshot.
A few more garage sales, the treasure of the day proved to be a set of antique juggling pins (similar again to a set of antique juggling pins I have, oddly, now with 2 sets of juggling pins and a unicycle that I should be a waiter...) for only $1.00.
And then the Gel-caps and Scotch began to wear off and it was time to come home.
Schadenfreude
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Conversations
- Hits: 1505
"Come here" he says to me..."Look at this". The owner's reading the newspaper.
He's reading the obituaries.
"Do you know him?"
I don't.
"He owns..." and here he lists off a list of expensive properties in downtown Calgary.
"He's dead. No children, no wife, no family....what's all his money going to do for him now?"
"What did he die of" I ask. "He seems awfully young".
He doesn't know. But that's not the point, the point is that someone rich died, someone richer than him, and they'll leave behind no one to mourn him at his grave. And somehow that satisfies him.
***
They talk about S********, the manageress who up and quit one night. No one knows exactly what she's up to. One thing for certain, it's no good. Nobody knows what's become of her, yet they still feel free to speculate, she went up north with her boyfriend, she's gone back to school, only thing they "know" for sure is that she's probably broke and that boyfriend of hers, he's no good.
***
Franco, he's talking about J. J. left to get a different job, nearer to home, better hours, and, hopefully, better money. I wished him the best. Our restaurant wasn't really for him.
But Franco, he doesn't like J. Doesn't like him because he left us to go and get a better job, exactly as Franco would do were he in the same position, and he hates him for it. So Franco, he's telling me that he's heard that J. has already lost his job, that so and so had talked to so and so and said this and that J. didn't get the job, and isn't he going to be sad he left now.... he's delighted and getting excited at the prospect. He's becoming his Pa.
Mother's Day
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 2206
We're not open Mother's Day. It's a Sunday, the one day of the week we all have off - even the owner, and it's a little surprising, given how busy it would be, but the owner has decided it's not worth the hassle. Mother's Day diners, they're not spending any money.
Nonetheless we get no less than a hundred phone calls trying to make reservations.
Some customers are OK with it, some act surprised ("You're not open Sundays?" "Sir, we haven't opened Sundays for 30 years..."). Some are irate and accuse us of "not being open on Mother's Day". Which is true, but it's also true that we're not open on Sundays and that's been the way it is since the restaurant opened. Some, the more foolish, call on Sunday and speaking to the owner try to make reservations, he tells them himself we're not open, and there's no arguing with him. Pity the fool that tries.
We have an older clientele, the Mother's day crowd has no appeal, if the average age of our customer is 50-60, how old will their mother be?
Still, a few bring them in on Saturday night. Exhumed, unwrapped, powdered and painted, the Sarah Coventry and Avon brooch grave goods applied, their wheeled, escorted, paraded into the restaurant. Once a year they're a happy family.
It's a museum of archeology, paleontology...
Wheelchairs, oxygen bags and strollers, regular customers trot out and exhibit their mother's for all the world to see. Vainly trying to persuade her to have a glass of wine, live a little, once a year they're the good son or daughter, the rest of the year "Mom" is re interred in her retirement home or underground apartment, buried far away from busy lives that never, ever include her, but tonight's her night and for the first time ever we all get to meet "mom".
Saturday was a long, late and busy night.
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