Hockey season is officially over

First of all, I’m not a sports fan.  I never watched sports growing up, either on tv or in person (the familiar intro to Hockey Night in Canada was usually interrupted by the clunk lunk lunk of changing channels).    I never tried out for any school teams, although I got my mom to take me to the community centre where I signed up for softball one year. But no one called to let me know when to show up.  Mom called to follow-up and they said “oh, well the season has already started”. 

They did call me out for one game though – when the first base player couldn’t make a game.  My father had bought me the baseball glove that he thought looked like it would offer me the most protection – a catcher’s mitt.  And except for “hit the ball and run around the bases”, I had no idea how the game was played.  So that didn’t work out very well.

But I watch S when she does the team sport thing.  I’ve seen her play basketball, volleyball, indoor soccer, outdoor soccer and hockey.  She also played rugby, but that was before my time.  Hockey was pretty good – she loves playing and the team is great.  They’re a social bunch with most of them going out for a beer after the game. This weekend she played in a hockey tournament with other women from her team — insanely playing multiple games in one day.  I hoped S might score a goal before the tournament ended, since, if plans work out, she should be pregnant next winter.  Which would mean no more hockey for a while.  But alas, no goal. 

This summer, for the same reason, she isn’t signing up for soccer either.  So it will be a whole new world for us – Saturdays free.  But I’m not going to start imagining summer Saturdays reading the paper on the patio,going to visit friends in St Catharines, enjoying local restaurants and cafes, hanging out at harbourfront or at the various little festivals held pretty much every weekend in Toronto,  going for country drives, maybe a weekend at Lake Superior Provincial Park or going to Stratford.  No, I imagine that instead of watching her play soccer, I’ll be waving goodbye to her while she goes to the gym.  Or worse, be recruited to be her bicycling buddy — peddling madly nowhere while my delicate girl-parts get crushed.  Personally, I like a destination, but on a bicycleI find a destination to be a dreaded inconvenience.  Once I get there I have to dismantle half the bike, lock the remaining parts two ways, then cart my helmet and the disassembled bike bits around with me…  sweat soaking through the fabric on my back and ass, road dust clingingto my liberal coating of sunscreen, sunscreen wicking into my eyes, and sporting a sweaty helmet hairdo.  For some reasons, S can’t understand why I don’t find this to be remotely fun.

 

I Guess They’re Not Too Few to Mention

It’s lovely seeing the trees starting to leaf out.  We have three trees in the backyard.  A huge, junky Manitoba maple, a large Silver maple and a fairly tall Rainier cherry.  The cherry is poorly located, very close to the Silver maple, and Earth Inc (the landscapers we hired last year)  suggested we remove it to make the patio bigger.  We opted not to, and now that the tree is about to blossom, I think we made the right decision.  I’m looking forward to the cherry blossoms, but not looking forward to the way the squirrels will pelt us with unripened cherries, as though it’s our fault that nature hasn’t worked faster. 

Getting the landscaping done last year was also a good decision.  The yard doesn’t  slope toward the house anymore, and water drains away quickly into the french drain system they set up.  The downspout connects into the same drain system and, for the most part, it’s works well.

And that was the main goal of having the landscaping done – to fix the drainage problems.  That and to have the yard lowered to ensure no wood-soil contact at the house.  Unfortunately, when the work crew arrived, they said lowering the level of the yard near the house would create drainage problems. 

Also unfortunate is that when I was sitting in the yard on the weekend, I was beating myself up for not having asked for a reimbursement of the $1,000 we paid to have the design done.  They sent a survey team out to measure every aspect of the yard, but someone entered the wrong measurement when actually designing the plan — and the plan was based on a yard that was 20% wider than our wee lot.   Based on the plan, we hired the company.  Sure it was expensive, but it was pretty.  I don’t know if we would have made the same decision if the plan had more closely reflected the back yard we got.  Oh – the patio is impressive, and the drainage works, but many of the most interesting aspects of the plan were shelved when the plan was scrapped.

The large 3-step cedar walkout we paid for, which was designed to be cut-out around the large rocks near the back door, ended up being downsized to a small wood platform between the rocks.  The massive rock nearest the door being quite buried by gravel when the patio had to be relocated.  Other features put in before the problem was discovered got buried or are simply not at the right level (they looked quite sharp, though, before we had to move the patio near the house).  Plus, the plan included screens to be installed in the future, and had room for a shed as well – unfortunately, our yard doesn’t have room for these things.

Yes, I’m glad for the landscaping, but am still kicking myself for not pushing to get part of the price reduced (for the smaller cedar platform), as well as a refund for the price of the unuseable plan.  I’m sure they went over their planned cost on labour (having to relocate everything), but I shouldn’t be expected to pay for their mistake.

We’ll call them soon to get the dead serviceberry shrubs replaced and maybe some of the other plants that didn’t survive the winter (altohugh if they can’t survive conditions in our yard, there’s probably no need having them replaced).  We need them to change the level of a couple of the walkway stones too – since meltwater pools there in the winter, then freezes, making it a little deadly to walk on. 

I look forward to when these things are done, the greenery is all filled in and the regrets fade.

 

 

House beautiful

It was a beautiful weekend – warm and sunny for most of it.  We raked the garden, picking up the thin coating of leaves that dropped after our last big rake-up of the fall.  Removing the leaf coating revealed that many of the crocus bulbs I planted in the fall were coming up, as well as some fiddleheads.  The hostas at the back aren’t up yet, and it looks like 1.5 serviceberry bushes died off, as well as one of the flase spirea.  Maybe the japanese painted ferns too – or maybe it’s just too early to tell.

The problem with raking up the leaves is that the squirrels are now drawn to the crocus bulbs like moths to flames and have begun digging them up.  Fuckers.

Part of the raking process had me trying to pick out organic material from the ulta-fine gravel.  I figure the less opportunity organics have to compost in there, the less likely I’ll have to weed out the gravel all summer.  Unfortunately, one of our cats thinks the gravel is the best kitty litter ever.  Much of the organic material I was removing was last autumn’s composting cat shit.  We need to find some solution for this because our muskoka chairs are there, and come July it smells like you’re sitting in a litter box (basically because you are).  I’ts just not the backyard idyll I was going for.

Nor is the huge wheeled recycling bin the City delivered.  I know the bins are causing a lot of dissent in downtown Toronto neighbourhoods where, unlike the burbs, we don’t have detached houses with driveways and garages and lots of frontage.  But on the plus side, these behemoths have lids, which should mean less recycling blowing around the streets on recycle day. Still, it has become the focal point of the newly landscaped backyard – and that just isn’t ok. 

Options include putting it in the laneway or building a shed for it at the back of the yard - either of which would make filling it up a little inconvenient, and it would have to be rolled along the laneway (ok in summer, not ok in winter) or taken through the house.  Alternatively, we could take down the little crappy wrought iron fence we have around the patch of front garden, and put the bin there.  Easy trip to the sidewalk, but it would take some getting used to to put recycling out front, instead of out back (near the kitchen – ground zero for most of the recycling).

Already, many neighbours simply leave their bins on the sidewalk all week long.  Which doesn’t look as junky as you might think.  But it means the sidewalks have become almost 2 feet narrower overnight – and come winter, I imagine it won’t be a viable solution.

I’m really curious to see these bins in action.  The City plans to use trucks with lift arms to pick them up, meaning we aren’t to use the small recycle bins anymore, even for overflow.  The wheeled bins come with instructions – to place it facing the street with the handle facing the house, and place it 2 feet from your green bin.   Trucks with lift arms will grab the bin and dump its contents into the truck.  Does this mean the City expects the lift arms to reach over the parked cars?  Even if I place the bin between parked cars, there’s no telling where cars will be parked by the time recycling is collected.  Also, the bin isn’t to go on top of, or behind, snowbanks – which basically means in the winter it can’t be on the sidewalk but has to go on the street … where the cars are parked. 

I’m sensing that this new system isn’t going to save the City money at the end of the day.

You Get What You Need

One by one, my bras began to die – the underwire snapping and poking through the fabric, subsequently trying to poke through my delicate flesh.  I was down to two bras left: one ancient, threadbare and too small, and the other stretched with falling-down straps.  S died it a weird blue by throwing it in with a load of darks (I suspect she did this on purpose, to encourage me to do the laundry more often).

Last week I went to the lingerie dept. at the local department store.  I wandered around, confused at all the options, but picked 3 to try .  Horrible, the lot of them.  So I went back on the weekend with S in tow and we brought around 13 into the change room for each of us to try on.  I didn’t feel like running out to get more sizes so just gave up.

The next day we went to Sophia’s on the Danforth.  S had been there once before and was impressed by the staff ability to pick the right size.  Plus, the bra she had bought that time was priced similarly to department store bras.  The place had been recommended by a colleague of hers, although another colleague prefers Secrets From Your Sister because she found Sophia’s to be a little too “hands-on” for her liking.

Yes, Sophia was hands-on, but she was all business about it.  No weird creepy vibe.  She brought me bra after bra, each one fit me much better than my attemps at the department store.  But the catch was they were all over $100 (one was $187!), except for one at $79.   I went in there expecting to pay a premium (notwithstanding S’s experience) – but not that much of a premium!

I ended up buying 2, because I really really needed some bras.  Really.  And these fit, and are comfortable.  But holy crap! Why is it that whenever I start to think about spending money on something I want, I end up having to spend it on something I need.

 

 

Disappointed!

I was so looking forward to Jury Duty.  Three weeks of showing up for 9:45, getting snacks at 11:30, a one hour lunch break, then leaving at 4:30 or so.  Just listening to testimony, making a few notes, doing a lot of waiting,  and then doing a little deliberating. 

But no, the accused decided to change his mind and plead guilty after all. 

Ah well, it was nice while it lasted.

Doing my Duty

I was summoned for Jury Duty this week, and selected for a Jury yesterday.  It was an interesting selection process, made more interesting by how many people were dreading being selected. 

One woman opined that if they paid more, and paid for parking, they’d get more people who were willing.  Of course, this was the same woman who advised that anyone who knows about income taxes knows it’s not worth it to accept that raise if it puts you into the higher tax bracket.  When I pointed out the higher rate applied only to the amount earned above the threshold, not the whole salary, she said something like “yes, but I don’t want to give them any more money, they take too much already”.   I didn’t want to argue with her - but not only do I doubt that she’d turn down a raise, but I also wonder where she thinks Jury pay comes from.  Like the gov has a different bucket of money that doesn’t come from taxes, but instead comes from fairies.

Should be an interesting 3 or so weeks.

Oh – and for the record, I’m happy to do my civic duty.  Sure, it helps that my employer pays my wages while I’m away, but I would have taken vacation time instead if I had to.  But because I get paid, I think it’s better that it’s me that serve than someone who doesn’thave the same benefit package.