My Experience with Natural Disasters

I was five years old when Hurricane Hazel swept through Toronto, Ontario, southeast of where we lived. I don’t remember a thing about it, except for listening to the adults exclaim and carry on forever after it was over. To me it was just another big old rain storm. But they couldn’t get over remarking about how bizarre it was to have a tropical Atlantic hurricane make it so far north and so far inland. All I could think of was the big bustling lady we knew named Hazel, all energetic and noisy. She had a bunch of kids and a no-nonsense attitude – I thought it was wonderful that they named the storm after her.

In 1987 I watched the tornado that swept across the eastern side of Edmonton, through the ‘green belt’, right beside the office building where I worked. The reception area was in a big glass dome, so the view was great. We had no idea what was going on. Once again, looked like a big old rain storm to me. The power went out and the sky was black at four in the afternoon. Someone remarked that it looked like the end of the world. Another person with a little battery operated radio was going on about flooding and people being killed and blown off the highway and disaster and havoc. He was quite annoying, and we were sure he was blowing things all out of proportion, but no one told him to shut up. I remember hoping for the rain to let up enough that I wouldn’t get completely drenched going across the parking lot. I didn’t have an umbrella.

Ignorance is bliss, isn’t it? When I got home and the power was back on I watched the devastation on tv in utter amazement, and still some disbelief. My husband and kids were on holiday in Ontario on the island, and I couldn’t reach them by phone. I did talk to my parents finally, to tell them I was fine, but they hadn’t heard a thing about it yet. I was kind of miffed, home alone, no one knowing or caring that I had been that close to a tornado and was still alive. Now when you mention our own Black Friday here, even after all this time, everyone has a story to tell.

In comparison to some of them which are ten times more dramatic, mine is rather lame. I tend not to panic about things I suppose. But then my house was still standing and I didn’t personally know any of the people who lost their lives. As far as experiencing disasters go, I guess you could say mine were not that bad.

Powered by Plinky

Dreaming About No Job At All

My dream job would be to sit at home, read books, play on the computer and write incredibly interesting stories all day long, getting paid millions of dollars every two weeks for doing any or all of those things.

Unfortunately I can’t find this position advertised anywhere and fear that right now no one is hiring.

A dream job I imagine should involve doing something you’re good at and enjoy, so my second choice would be to become a national frame buyer for our optical department. Because whoever is doing it now is a flaming moron. I might also turn out to be a moron at it, but certainly NOT a flaming one.

If we had some awesomely incredible frames on our frame bars perhaps I would stop inwardly cringing whenever someone asks me for help choosing eyewear. Or maybe it’s just a conditioned response and there’s no cure for it, I don’t know.

I am so excited to be taking 6 weeks off (three more working days to go!) so that I can start collecting early CPP. It’s just one more little baby step towards retirement which I never thought I would long for, but there it is. This six weeks will be a mini preview of things to come.

Well! Is that not my dream job coming true? Except for the millions of dollars part, which I suppose I could get by without if there’s no way around it. I want to write, even though I may be a flaming moron at that. As long as no one tells me, ignorance is bliss, and I’ll keep blathering away. And to have the time to read and read and read – heaven on earth.

Powered by Plinky