The Thing Is…

Hello…finally…from a Kozy place!

Boy I’ve missed you guys! Two whole weeks; how did that
happen?? Oh that’s right; I have a job and no life now. Sigh. The thing is, to
be honest, I did have two entire days off last weekend as my other half was out
scaring up the fish (or trying to anyway) but I decided to be a very, very good
girl and dedicate my free time to some long overdue “real” writing. Sorry, I
had to make a choice…but I still love you, you know that right?

So what’s been going on in my little cranium over the past
fortnight? Lots. (By the way, it saddens me that the term fortnight has fallen out of favour in the modern vernacular. It’s
far more potent than two weeks, don’t
you think?)

To start with, I went and had my breasts fondled by complete
strangers last week, i.e. I had an ultrasound and a mammogram, i.e. I had one
person taking pictures of my breasts and one person squishing them like
pancakes between two pieces of hard plastic. I’m lumpy, what can I say,
everyone has their faults. I found my first breast lump when I was twenty-one
and nearly fainted. My mom was going through cancer and I was terrified that I
had it. False alarm. Turns I’m susceptible to fibrous pal…er…um…I don’t
remember the technical word but it means, basically that you get these fibrous
lumps that come and go. Like I said, lumpy.

The thing is, it’s a little nerve wracking being lumpy
because you never really know when it’s just a “normal” lump and when it’s the
scary kind. Consequently, there are times when you might find me obsessively
feeling myself up. Trust me I’m not doing it for pleasure…all the time.
Seriously, my doc told me to keep track of the lumpy comings and goings of my
upper regions and to come in if I notice any significant changes. So in I went
last week. Monday I will get my results but I’m pretty sure everything will be
fine as the friendly ultrasound girl showed me all the pictures and said it
looked pretty OK in there. Whew.

I am a much bigger fan of the ultrasound girl than the
mammogram Nazi. Men, want to know kind of what it feels like to have a
mammogram? Go open your car door, place your hand on the door frame and then
have someone shut the door while saying, “OK, relax, relax, drop your
shoulders, don’t stand on your tip toes, no stop screaming, don’t lean forward,
relax!” I may exaggerate, but just a hair. So please don’t start whining about
a little finger up the bum once per year…puh-leeeeaaaase.

I kid but I feel incredibly fortunate to live in a place
where I can get screened for breast cancer in a timely manner and treated, if
necessary, without bankrupting myself. And for those of you out there – you
know who you are – who don’t go for your annual Private Parts Inspection, shame
on you!! Yes, it sucks to have strangers prodding us in our delicate places but
a little poke now could save a lot of unpleasantness down the road.

Next on the agenda is a blast from my past, a little ditty I
like to call, “You Can’t Go Back”. Recently, we have been doing a lot of jobs
back in my old ‘hood. My childhood was spent in a quiet, middle class suburb.
My house, when we moved in, was the end of the road. Deer, squirrel, pheasants
and more regularly traipsed through our backyard. There were orchards and
fields, an abandoned chicken farm up the road. We rode our bikes to Shum’s
Market for penny candy or, when I was older, walked the twelve blocks to 7-11
for a Slurpee, passing cows and the occasional horse grazing in a field along
the way. It was a perfect place to be a kid. Those days are gone.

Gone are the animals and open spaces, in their place Subway
and Home Depot, Sport Mart and cement. Barely a square inch remains that hasn’t
been consumed by consumerism. My little block of houses, which used to be so
well kempt and cared for, is dilapidated, dated, run down and sad.

I suppose I could mourn the loss of a way of life but, the
thing is, for better or for worse, things change, people change. If I loved
that place so much, why did I leave? Hmmm. I left because I wanted things that
perfect little corner of the world couldn’t offer me. And the woman I am now is
as altered as the landscape that the girl I was grew up in. She was a nice girl
but, given the choice, I wouldn’t trade who I am now to be who I was then. You
can’t go back…and you have to live with that.

I’ll wrap up with work, my new, all-consuming past time. The
parade of interesting characters continues which is equal parts delightful and
frustrating as I don’t have a spare moment to write about any of them as I’m so
bushed by the end of the day I barely have the strength to lift my martini
glass. (Please, feel free to shed a tear or two here). Our learning curve
during this first month is nearly vertical so things should get easier as we go
along. One of the greatest lessons thus far, however, has been that nothing is

Clients call us and explain how quick and easy the job is
going to be, “Oh, it’ll take you half an
hour at the most!”,
but it is never quick and never easy. You see, the
thing is, that the customer has no idea what’s involved in the job (or they’d
be doing it themselves). Take the “quick and easy” fence repair we did for
Mr.Picky this week. Just three fence panels that needed to be lifted because of
some tree roots that were pushing them over – which turned into three panels and
posts that needed to be torn out, moved around the gigantic fir tree roots,
raised to almost nine or ten feet to block the view of the neighbour’s deck,
and customized to fill in the space at the bottom. This quick little job we
quoted for a half day (being generous) turned into a day and a half…and the
first day was almost eleven hours long!

I’m not whining, truly I’m not. Business is almost too good
to be true and we are slowly getting ourselves back on our tootsies again.
Besides, I keep a picture of a little beach in Fiji
in my brain to keep me going. And for every Mr.Picky hovering over our
shoulders demanding more and more there is a Mr. & Mrs. Gonzalez who are
grateful you have the time to fix their leaky faucet and who bid you goodbye
with a heartfelt, “Mi casa es su casa”.

Well folks, my battery is dying and tomorrow is not just Canada’s
birthday (Happy birthday Canuck Land!!!
We love you!!) but also another work day for the Prez and me. So Happy Canada
day to our friends from the north and Happy Fourth of July (in a few days) to
our southern amigos!

Until next week – yes I promise it will be just a week this
time – I hope this finds you healthy, happy & lovin’ life!

The Princess


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