Random roundup

A few things that have been going on...

We have a new neighbour who is a bundle of nerves. There may be other factors at work there, such as the possibility of early dementia or something. In any case, she mentioned she's 68 and I was aghast. I would have pegged her at about 8 years older. There is no doubt that she is excruciatingly lonely. She has a loud, high-pitched voice and speaks at rapid-fire speed without pausing often for a breath, and has a litany of woes that come out in a circular and disjointed torrent - everything jumbled up with an edge of near-hysteria. Her neglectful yet controlling sister, her own inability to make ends meet on a pension, injustices from the recent past, her sleep patterns, her phone conversations, her outings, her laundry. It's hard to follow the quick jumps from one train of thought to the next. But the themes are always the same, and one of them is poverty.

At first the women of our immediate entourage encircled her and helped out. A pint of milk here, a loaf of bread there, a loan of some household item, an ear to listen. But like most victims who grasp onto every lifeline with a death grip, she threatens to take us all down into her vortex of extreme need. And so, bit by bit, we've all kind of backed off. Not entirely. But significantly.

I went to a friend for advice. How do you practice detachment when faced with an elder person who frequently lacks basic necessities of life? He said: Find out where she spends her money. And the answer came the next day, when something she said finally sent the red flag up. Not for the first time, she mentioned taking a taxi, stopping for a cold beverage or an ice cream cone, eating a quick meal at one of our fast-food joints. And bingo. (The game. Not the moment of enlightenment for me.)

When a coffee will set you back $2.50, a regular ice cream cone $3.00, and a small dinner at McDonalds $6.00, and any single trip across this town about $7.00, that's where the money for milk and bread has gone.

So while I feel it unjust that a pensioner cannot permit herself small treats now and then, I no longer feel as though I am willfully turning my back on someone in need.

(I have shared my own food on three occasions, and bought milk. But that's pretty much over with, now. I could inquire about available assistance at the local community centre - she might be willing to get help drawing up a budget.)

I bought a dress
Cannot remember the last time I even looked at a dress on a rack. Skirts, yes, but dresses, no. I saw this one, tried it on. A good two sizes too small at the ribcage. (Mom always said I had a big ribcage. I always felt so insulted.) But! It was marked down $95 off the original price. It was not an impulsive purchase. I thought about it for 4 days before going back to the store. I told myself if the dress was still there, I would buy it. It was, and I did.

So the diet continues.

The cleanse
I finally, finally got around to embarking on the 9-day detox/cleanse/flush/whatever you want to call it. I began the same day I spotted the dress, although the two things were completely unrelated at the time.

Without going into dull details, it's all very scientifically valid and indeed, very complete and balanced. There are "shake days" and "cleanse days." Shake days are bearable (one meal + food options, 2 shakes). Cleanse days (which are strictly limited in number - never more than 2 consecutive days within a 7-day period) are tough. They involve liquids but no solids. On the evening of my second cleanse day I went into a form of mental crisis. Shopping at the specialty boutique didn't help.

That boutique was interesting, though. It's run on an estate by a community of cloistered Greek Orthodox nuns, up in the countryside northeast of here. They make their own cheese from their own goats, and also jams, jellies, baclava, spanakopita, bread and even fine chocolates. Everything handmade, all organic.

If you must be a nun, cooking and baking must make life tolerable.

I bought a few items, but ate nothing. On the way back, we stopped at a private home that had a small hand-lettered sign on the mailbox, and I picked up some fresh eggs.

And finally, summer vacations, or not
I was going to take a motorcycle road trip with a friend - the one I called "The Shark" here last summer... who has been an on-again, off-again platonic buddy. But I decided that if I'm going to spend significant amounts of money and time, it should be with someone who is joyful, inquisitive, and talkative. He is none of those things at the moment - has been downright taciturn and indifferent since mid-May.

So I've decided, instead, to take a few mini-vacations in the form of excursions into Montreal. I have two general invitations launched on Facebook (Torn and Traci) and also my son + backyard pool where he lives. Torn and his gang are enthusiastic drinkers, but I think the fun of actually meeting him and Serge will outweigh any doubts I might have about personal temptation. Booze lost its enjoyment for me long ago. There's also the jazz fest and some other city fun... and an AA friend who is interested in at least one excursion to an outdoor market and a spice hunt.

Then, at the end of July, is a small family get-together. It will be wonderful to see my siblings again. It's been a long time.

And now I must zoom, because I am going garage-sale picking with friends.