Say What Now?

This week I came to the stunning realization that the end of next month marks our one year anniversary of being in Canada!! For some reason in my head, I had not realized how quickly September was approaching, and my diligent spouse, P, took great delight in pointing out the finer facts of the Gregorian calendar and the process of time for me, and that gave me a bad flashback of being in the second grade and being told that Santa Claus didn’t exist. I don’t know why.

I guess in the planet my brain was orbiting I was still stuck in July for some reason.  Maybe that is what keeps me young: ) According to my driving instructor, of course, this is not the case.  I had yet another one of my dreaded lessons, during which he grimaced consistently, but for the first time, didn’t say ‘Fail!’. 

There was one incident where the wheels of the car went over a solid white line, and he said I could fail for that on the test, but in real life it was inevitable given the situation I was in. So I was not really yelled at. Well, except for the time he told me to turn right and then left, and I dawdled and didn’t realize I really had to turn left within seconds of turning right. At that point I got in trouble for not listening. What’s new? At least I'm consistent.

I really didn’t want to sign up for another round of lessons. My stomach gets into knots and I look rather feverish and constipated before each lesson.  I look like I’m auditioning for laxative commercial (I would be the before girl). P, on the other hand, loves the driving instructor because he is the only person on the planet who can instill some fear in me. Upon being told this, my instructor laughed deliriously. Enough said.

While he was in a good mood for once, I casually asked him how many classes he thinks I should take before taking the road test. He said he will see how I am during my class next week. Knowing that he would rather perform a root canal on himself than offer me a compliment, I went fishing for one myself. I told him he has to admit that I have improved tremendously since I first started, and he spontaneously said ‘yes!’. 

He quickly made up for his positive outburst by telling me that I get into trouble when I think because I over analyze things and that's what gets me into a spot (but not a parking spot). Apparently, I should just go with my instincts.  Considering the hamster in my brain has control issues, I don't know how to follow that order. I guess it is better to be scolded for over thinking than not thinking at all?

So some progress was made. Sadly, I think I might be suckered into another round. I just hope all the stress of these classes doesn’t cause me an ulcer. He said that usually ‘elderly’ students need more driving classes than young ones. Wait a minute now.  My mouth was wide open and my eyes were stinging. I have never been so stunned in my life.

If I was not trying to avoid hearing the word ‘Fail!’, I would have slammed on the breaks then and there. Was this dude calling me old? I actually gasped and asked him to explain himself, and he looked at me like ‘what? Did I say something wrong? Anyone past the early 30s is elderly’. To make it worse he said he thought I was 36. Obviously, I should have paid more attention to my roots when I was dying my hair by myself.

This, everyone, is a fine example of karma coming back to bite someone in the behind.  I have spent my entire life, teasing my poor parents, my father in particular, saying that the Smithsonian called and would like him for one of their exhibits. He would be so happy to know that I, the bratty kid in the family, was called ‘elderly’. These things always happen to me. One would think that considering how often these things do come back to bite me in the behind, I would have a smaller rear.

Any old how, no pun intended on the old, besides being insulted in a complimentary way, or complimented in an insulting way, by my driving instructor, this week passed by quickly. We were testing the healthcare system again. We had some fire hot days, and my preschooler, Lanes, went to play school with sandals and no socks.  One the way back, she didn’t listen when I asked her not to open the door on her own and she managed to smash her big toe.

There was blood everywhere. She was crying in pain and I couldn’t see how badly hurt she was due to all the blood gushing out of the top of her toe. She had left a trail of blood when I led her to the sink to clean her up and that was freaking her (and me) out even more. I think I got so scared, I was calm.

Eventually, I ascertained that she could bend her toe and the cut was not so bad and all was well after she was bandaged and the floor was scrubbed.  Having toyed with the idea of giving up hopes on a driving license prior to that, I realized this is a good example of why I should be independently mobile.

Meanwhile, I never heard from the clinic I went to about my specialist appointment. P taunted me saying I would never call to follow up on it, so I did just to spite him (we are very mature that way). Turns out they had no idea and they had the wrong phone number for me.

On Saturday we went to the clinic, so I could ask them again in person. I figured I could get a better answer if I am seen as a person instead of a voice behind a phone or some strange letters put together on a piece of paper.  The specialist they were putting me through was not free until November, but the clinic couldn’t make another appointment with someone else unless the GP who saw me tells them to. It all seems rather complicated. I’m trusting they will sort it out.

To make things worse, while I was waiting at the clinic, I looked out the window and smiled with a baby in a stroller, only to look up to find the mom of the baby was the unfriendliest mom in Lanes' old preschool. I wanted to blank her but she blanked me first and that just made me mad for the next five minutes. I let it go because sometimes you have to ignore people who walk around looking like they are sucking on lemons. 

  

We spent the rest of the weekend at Queen Elizabeth Park, where Lanes enjoyed the water fountains, and the next day we went with friends to the fishing town of Steveston. I have to go now because P is on the phone long distance and he is literally shouting. His theory of using the phone is that if the connection fails, the person on the other end must still be able to hear him. He is calling Sri Lanka. Needless to say, I need ear plugs.

I will thus sign off for now, because my concentration is gone. More adventures next week...