April 1, 2017
How appropriate to be spending April Fool’s Day in Trump Land. I awoke at 3am in a horrible state, feeling utterly dislocated in the town I worked and lived for forty-one years. What does one do in such an instance? Well, if you are me, fire off an email to a friend in the UK. It sounds rather strange, but there is the difference in time zones and he was sure to be up and about. And guess what? It worked. He was most sympathetic – and incidentally he was not the Best of 2016 (see prior post.) After all, what does iPhoto know? He, the acute and sensitive soul, reminded me that I was in Trump Land and that may account for some of my feelings. He is brilliant.
So, it was back to sleep and then I awoke to another email from the UK guy who had become even more sensitive and reminded me of this. “I think that you underestimate the traumatic experiences that you have been through recently. Being evicted; a new cultureX2; traveling round half the world; blogging for a living and trying to get your magnum opus completed.” I did remind him that I did not get paid for blogging, but I think he meant it in a broader sense.
All of that made it feel like I was being heard, and it helped. Afterwards, I went down for breakfast and for all kinds of reasons I began to feel better. UK guy reminder of Trump Land and the feeling of discombobulation proved prescient as I read the day’s edition of the New York Times. I saw no reason to follow the follies of the USA while in the UK and Canada, so it is with some surprise that I see what a mess this country is in. It almost makes me think that there is a God and he is on my side because I am not planning to settle here. I will continue to come here and visit and get medical care, but not live. I was born a Canadian and strangely remain one. Strange for sure.
Something else put me in a good mood. As I wrote to UK guy: “Nothing is familiar in my transit state as I wake up not knowing where I am. Although, one thing is familiar and that is the sound of birds singing. They sang in Dolphin Square in London, they sang in Coquitlam and now they sing here in San Rafael. They are of comfort to me.” By the way, UK guy is not the same as Best of 2016. Actually UK guy started out being a much worse emailer than Best of 2016, should that be possible. Who said men can’t change? Highly unlikely, but possible I guess.
It is so unusual being here. The weather is too perfect. I am used to London and then Vancouver weather. The sun glares; colors are too bright, things too new and clean. Traffic hopelessly snarled. Friend Carol suggested that I not rent a car, as parking around this wonderful place is limited. For the moment I am taking her advice and as the Panama Hotel is centrally located I can actually walk most places and people are scheduled to meet me here anyway. Therefore, as I write at this moment I am quite content. Again, I am like a Phoenix rising from the ashes. Thanks UK guy for your support. He also supports me by reading my blog every day. As do others, and when I find out you do, I am in awe.
I left Vancouver via the airport (surprise). Two things happened. I talked to people (surprise); gave out blog cards (surprise); got jokes for the blog (surprise), and got a tremendous idea for the blog (surprise).
Here is the joke for the blog, supplied by a man named Anonymous (which is what he told me his name was): “They said to take out the garbage can, but I took out the garbage man.” It is apparently from an old blues song. There could be endless variations on that and when I am bored I will work on it. This is the suggestion from his wife Carol. I told her that for all (or most) of my life I had always wanted to be a stand up comedian. I am a woman of action, and when I was in London I took a weekend course in comedy. Then, I did open-mike at the corner pub after plastering the street with posters I made announcing my debut. A recording of this momentous event is somewhere on this computer. Carol said I should post it on the blog. Now that is brilliant. I probably should clean up the language first, but I can do that in GarageBand apparently. Great! Another project to keep me away from finishing the damn book. I only did stand up comedy once. It was rather successful, but it seemed like I was prostituting my sense of humor. Humor, to be any fun, is spontaneous.
Now, here comes the Fried Cauliflower. Cousin Gail and I go out to dinner on my last night in Vancouver. She orders, of all things, the Fried Cauliflower. In case some of you don’t know: A) cauliflower is a vegetable, and B) I hate vegetables. So, I say to Gail and our wonderful waitress Cayley: “Don’t put the cauliflower on the table. I will throw up.” Cayley has an incredible solution. She constructed a wall across the middle of the table. I realize you may not believe me so I am including two photographs taken by Cayley of the Wall blocking Cauliflower. When I hate something, I really hate it.
Friend Grace and I ate here at the Panama Hotel last night. I suddenly got very sad and realized I was missing my Rex Whistler and its wonderful people. I think I cried even. Grace paid for dinner. Thanks Grace. I had a rare hamburger. You can’t get them in the UK or in Canada because I think they are trying to save people from themselves. Here in the USA they don’t care.
