Breaking The Mold

Update: I posted the following, and then went to WordPress and saw all the comments–from NOVEMBER 2023! I have no idea what’s going in. I literally couldn’t find any evidence that this post had EVER gone live, until I published it, seemingly for the first time, and discovered that it had, indeed been previously posted, to very great success. I had done keyword searches, looked through all my posts, and nothing. So my only conclusion is that it’s The Pirate’s Revenge!

Every time I look at my list of posts on WordPress, I see one in my drafts folder called Blow Molds. I remember writing it—Ken remembers reading it after I initially wrote it, and it never even occurred to me that I had never posted it. It was supposed to go live on Sunday, November 19 2023. I realized this week after investigating that IT NEVER GOT POSTED AND NONE OF YOU EVER SAID “WHERE IS THIS WEEK’S POST, MYDANGBLOG?!” At any rate, it was really funny, so I’m posting it this week so I hope you enjoy it, even almost 2 years later when I no longer work in an antique market:

It’s gotten quite a lot busier at work lately. First, because the summer construction project that was supposed to finish in September is finally done, and people have actually stopped using the antique market parking lot as a bypass/speedway and are now parking and shopping, and second, because Christmas is coming and everyone buys their Christmas antiques in November. The current trend, carried over from last year is BLOW MOLDS. If you don’t know what a blow mold is, it’s a large plastic figure in the shape of a Santa or a Snowman, made out of plastic which has been blown into a mold—hence the name. They plug in and light up at night, turning your house into a veritable winter wonderland, even if you still don’t have any snow. These things are getting as expensive to buy as ceramic Christmas trees (you know, the ones everybody’s grandma had in the 70s). And the more savvy collectors are looking for the extra, the unique, the really hard-to-find ones. Currently, about the cashier’s counter, we have a giant blow mold Santa in a blow mold sleigh, with a team of blow mold reindeer pulling him. Along the side, it says “Noel”, which already caused a stir because one of the young bosses had apparently never taken French in school and thought that Noel was Santa’s first name, like “Noel Santa Claus” and we all had a good laugh until someone corrected him.

And it’s no surprise that on Wednesday, my boss came to the till with an older couple. He pointed up to the shelf above the cash counter and told his brother to get a step stool so they could get a purchase down. I was standing ready as the couple came to my till. My boss called over the vendor number and the price, which I thought was extremely high, but then again, it WAS a lot of blow mold, and in the item description I typed “Santa Reindeer Blow Mold” as one would. The woman who was buying was quite excited:

Me: That’s a really awesome one. Good for you—great find.
Woman: I know. It’s so cool.
Me: I’ve never seen one like that before—really unique.
Woman: It’s perfect. Our foyer is a pirate ship.

And if you’re like me at all, you probably just did a double take. “Our foyer is a pirate ship”?? And several things went through my mind simultaneously, like 1) What the f*ck does she mean? Does she actually LIVE on a pirate ship, the bow of which she considers her foyer or 2) Is the foyer in her home DECORATED like a pirate ship? And 3) Why the f*ck would anyone a) live in a pirate ship or b) decorate their home like one and 4) The biggest question of all is HOW THE HELL IS THIS GIANT SANTA/SLEIGH/REINDEER COMBINATION A PART OF THE PIRATE MOTIF??!!

I had a vision of the whole thing hanging from the ceiling above the foredeck with pirates down below all gesturing and threatening it with their pirate swords and whatnot, when I suddenly realized that the guys had simply moved the whole blow mold out of the way to retrieve a huge, framed shadow box that was full of replica pistols. And then the whole thing suddenly made sense in that weird “it doesn’t really make sense that anyone would be that jazzed about pirate decorating” but at least the fake guns were more aligned with the aesthetic. Afterwards, my boss had to correct the item description in the computer system so the vendor wouldn’t be confused over someone paying $600 for a blow mold instead of his gun box. But it was surreal.

I Am A Delight

As you may or may not know, I’ve been hosting a radio show once a month since March-ish. And while I love the idea of being a radio host, you also may remember that I find it extremely stressful. The studio is about 45 minutes away, in an old, run-down factory that is most definitely haunted, and I have to go there on a Sunday when no one else is around. This necessitates Ken accompanying me, when he could be building me a new garden house (his current project) or napping because he’s exhausted from being awake. And it’s a good job he comes with me, because the station is unstaffed, and every time I go, something has been unplugged or a button that’s supposed to be pushed isn’t, and I never know until the very second I start the show, when Ken will pop up behind the glass between the studio and the ‘green room’ (it’s green—that’s the only thing about it that resembles a Green Room) and frantically mouths “It’s just dead air!” Then it’s a mad dash to figure out what’s gone wrong THIS time.

But this month, due to a variety of reasons, none of my guests were able to make it to the studio for today’s episode of Reader’s Delight. Normally, when someone can’t come in, they just pre-record themselves doing a reading, but then I had a brainwave. Why couldn’t I interview these writers remotely via Zoom, and upload the audio to the station’s scheduled playlist? Never mind that I had ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA how to do any of that, but it was okay because the one thing I DO have, the most important thing, is a daughter who is a WHIZ at sh*t like this:

Me: Hey honey, do you know how to splice together three audio tracks into one and then convert the whole thing into an MP3 file?
Katelyn: Sure.
Me: I WILL GIVE YOU TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS IF YOU DO THIS FOR ME.
Katelyn (laughs): Okay, Mother.

And that’s just what we did. I interviewed 2 people remotely (I already had one pre-recorded track because the author was in Europe) and then sent the files to Kate.

Me: Are you sure you know how to do this?
Kate: What? It’s already done. Check your email.

And I was SO thrilled…until I listened to the whole thing through. It was terrific, the authors were engaging, the audio was edited so smoothly…the only problem was ME. Specifically right at the end. I don’t have professional Zoom, so I only had 40 minute sessions, and the last author and I had had a wonderful chat at the beginning, using up a lot of Zoom time, unbeknown to me. It wasn’t until she was in the middle of her reading that I got a pop-up that said, “You have 10 minutes remaining” so I started to panic. She finished with about 4 minutes to spare, but I was so flustered that, at the end of my outro, I said—and I’m not joking—“Until next time…uh, listen to me then.” And if that’s not the WORST tagline that a radio show host could have, I don’t know what is. So now I’m brainstorming for really punchy taglines. Maybe “Until next time, keep reading!”? “Until next time, keep adding to your TBR pile!”? I don’t know—if you have any ideas, PLEASE tell me! Because hopefully, I’ll be doing this remotely from now on, depending on what happens this afternoon at 2 pm when the show airs. Until next time…listen to me then (by streaming it on CKMS Radio Waterloo 102.7 FM).

I Just Want What I’m Owed; Book Advice

Whenever I go anywhere, I like to take back country roads. But the more I do, the more there’s something I’ve noticed, something I’ve become painfully, jealously aware of:

Me: I want to move to the country.
Ken: Why?
Me: Because I want a camper and a boat.
Ken: What?
Me: Because when you move to the country, you automatically get a camper and a boat. Obviously. Apparently, it’s a rule.
Ken: Whose rule?
Me: The government, I assume. Like, it must be a government program or whatnot. When you move to the country, the government gives you a camper and a boat. It’s probably some kind of incentive—you know, to reduce congestion in the cities.
Ken: You know that’s not true, right?
Me: Not true? Look around, KEN. Every single place you drive by in the country has at least one of each. Bob has TWO campers—AND a horse! See, this is why I love socialism. Universal healthcare, social security, free campers and boats. It’s awesome.
Ken: They’re NOT free! And you HATE camping.
Me: I hate camping in a TENT. I’d totally go camping in our cool free government camper.
Ken: And what about the boat? We aren’t anywhere near a lake.
Me: No one EVER IS, KEN. But we have a trailer hitch. We can tow it places. Or, it just sits next to our barn. That’s what most people do with them, as far as I can tell. It’s ‘Farm Chic’.
Ken: We’re not moving to the country.
Me: You’re so mean! I want my boat and camper. It’s only fair—I pay my taxes! I want MY DUE! (starts scrolling through Realtor.ca for a cute country property)
Ken: Sigh. Let me know if you find anything.

Unfortunately, I don’t have any pictures of a country property with a camper and a boat because the government doesn’t want people to know about it—it’s a state secret.

In other news, as an author and owner of DarkWinter Press and Literary Magazine, I often get asked what comes after the initial thrill of a book’s release. Here’s a fun little article I was asked to write by Women Writers, Women[s] Books about things you can do once your first book gets published to keep the momentum going! https://booksbywomen.org/so-your-first-novel-just-got-published-now-what/

No One Expects…

And if you finished the title of this post with …The Spanish Inquisition! then you know I wrote this for you. It’s been a slow week, so here’s a Monty Python flashback…

A couple of years ago, I wrote about watching a woman walk up to the front of a train, hitting everyone in the head on her way by, and I remarked that it was like something out of a Monty Python sketch. For those of you who don’t know, Monty Python was not a person; it was an absurdist comedy troupe that formed in the late 60s. Over the course of the next couple of decades, they had a TV series, live concerts, and several movies including Monty Python and The Holy Grail and The Life of Brian. If you’ve never heard of them or seen any of their work, then I don’t even know what to tell you. But if you ARE familiar with Monty Python, you’ll understand when I say that it has occurred to me on more than one occasion that my life is pretty much one long Monty Python sketch. They’re well-known for numerous hysterically surreal scenarios, and below you will find the parallel circumstances of some of these moments in my own life. There are five below—4 are slightly exaggerated for comedic purposes and one of them is absolutely as it happened. See if you can guess which one.

Pet Shop

Late afternoon. The 11^th floor.

Me: I’m having an issue with my computer.
IT Guy: Ah, yes. The Lenovo. What’s the problem?
Me: I’ll tell you what the problem is, my lad. It’s broken.
IT Guy: Broken? Have you tried turning it off and on again?
Me: Yes. It’s definitely broken.
IT Guy: It’s probably just doing updates. Remarkable machine, the Lenovo. Lovely keyboard.
Me: The keyboard doesn’t enter into it, mate! It’s broken! (*bangs laptop against desk*)
IT Guy: There, see? It’s fine—the screen flickered.
Me: No, it didn’t! (*opens and closes lid rapidly*) Cortana! Oh, Cortana!! See, it’s not working. And don’t tell me it’s pining for the fjords.
IT Guy: Fjords? In Canada? Give it here. Right—it was just a password problem. I’ve unlocked it for you.
Me: I wish I was a lumberjack.
IT Guy: You’re ok.

Argument Clinic

Early morning. Alarm goes off.

Me: Ergh. I’m so tired. I wish I could just call in and take the day off like some people can.
Ken: Dan’s not coming into work?
Me: Who’s Dan?
Ken: Isn’t he the person who’s not coming into work?
Me: No, I said ‘Like people can’.
Ken: Was he off yesterday too?
Me: Who?!
Ken: That Dan guy.
Me: What the f*ck are you talking about?!
Ken: What are you trying to tell me?
Me: I’m tired and I don’t want to go to work! Why don’t you either follow along or go back to sleep?!
Ken: Be like Dan.
Me: This argument has gone on way too long.
Ken: Are you staying home today?
Me: This is futile.

Michelangelo and the Pope

Via email

Literary Magazine: Greetings. We really enjoyed your short story and would like to publish it. We just need you to make a few minor revisions.
Me: I can do that. What were you thinking?
Lit Mag: Get rid of the family next door. They’re not important to the plot and they push the word count up.
Me: Get rid of them? But they add a bit of colour to the setting. Plus, the father’s presence allows the reader to infer a lot about the way the town perceives the main character. He’s like an Everyman.
Lit Mag: All right. We can live with the family, but we need you to lose the last paragraph. Just end it with the boy and the woman eating watermelon.
Me: Lose the last paragraph?! That’s where you find out the husband is dead all along!
Lit Mag: The husband’s DEAD?! Thanks for the spoiler. Regardless, it’s not necessary.
Me: NOT NECESS—look mate, you don’t want a writer, you want a bloody stenographer!
Lit Mag: We’re a bloody small university press, we are! We may not know writing but we know what we like!

Four Yorkshiremen

Lunchtime. Jack’s Office.

Jack: Who’d have thought we’d be sitting here using “Teams” on our Iphones. I miss the old days. Do you know, they’re not even making laptops with CD drives in them anymore? I remember my first computer—it was a Commodore 64.
Me: Commodore 64? You were lucky. I typed my honours thesis on a Vic 20.
Jack: I remember doing a lot of my high school essays on an electric typewriter.
Me: Electric? Ooh, we used to DREAM of electric typewriters. I learned to type on an old manual that weighed more than you did.
Jack: At least with computers, you could save everything on diskette instead of having to use carbon paper. Remember those floppy discs?
Me: Floppy discs? You were lucky. Back in my day, we had to save all our data on CASSETTE TAPES. And when the data was saved, we had to go outside and lick the road clean with our tongues.
Jack: What?
Me: Nothing. Remember when we all had Blackberries?
Jack: Blackberry? You were lucky. I had a flip phone for years.
Me: Flip phones?! You were lucky to have one of THEM. Back in my day, we had car phones the size of a laptop bag that plugged into the car. And they were RADIOACTIVE. We DREAMED of flip phones.
Jack: But you try to tell the young people of today that–
Me: And they won’t believe you.

The Spanish Inquisition

9 pm. The front door opens.

Me: Oh! It’s you!
Ken: Who were you expecting—the Spanish Inquisition?
Atlas (*flies into room*): NO ONE expects the Spanish Inquisition!
Me: Nice cloak.

Our chief weapon is the element of surprise…

I’ve linked each title to the corresponding Python sketch, and here’s the link to all the Monty Python scripts from A-M here and from N-Z here in case you want to see how life imitates art.

Robots Everywhere

Last week, my parents moved, and as part of the process, they did a lot of downsizing, which meant Ken and I scored big time. A new Keurig, a salad spinner, a TV for our newly renovated attic, a LOT of salt, a container of the best silver cleaner I’ve ever used, and a ton of other things too numerous to mention, including this:

I’d seen the picture on the box and grabbed it on the grounds that “it’s better to have it and not need it, than to need it and not have it.” It wasn’t until later that I realized what they were called. “Sliding ROBOTS”? And I think someone at the table when they were workshopping the name got a little carried away:

Marketing Person 1: We need a catchy name for our cheap plastic product that makes it sound super-fancy and impressive to justify the price.

Marketing Person 2: What about E-Z Gliders? People love it when you turn words into letters, and “glider” sounds real smooth.

Marketing Person 1: Seriously Frank? Remind me why I hired you again?

Marketing Person 3: He’s your brother.

Marketing Person 1: Well, you know what they say about nepotism—keep it in the family, amiright?

Marketing Person 3: You know what people REALLY love? ROBOTS! Why don’t we call them “Gliding Robots”?

Marketing Person 1: That’s WAY too complicated. “Sliding Robots” is much more memorable.

Marketing Person 2: But they don’t have any moving parts—how can they be—

Marketing Persons 1 and 3: Shut up, FRANK.

And in honour of the Sliding Robot, I’ve decided to rename things in and around my house, thus turning them into robots. See if you can guess what these robots really do (answers at the end):

Wind Robot
Square Water Hardener Robot
Cat Feces Robot
Slicey Hot Box Robot
Dirt Navigation Robot
Mucous Robot
Focus Robot
Tubular Communication Robot
Beverage Delivery Robot
Small Portable Petroleum Combustion Robot

In other news, a few days ago, I was outside watering some plants, and when I bent over to turn off the hose tap, a swarm of wasps flew up from beneath the garden mulch and attacked me. One flew right in my eye, and I swatted it enough that it didn’t sting me IN my eye but on my lower eye lid, as the rest of them started coming in for the kill. I screamed and ran as fast as I could, right by Ken who asked, “Hey, what’s going on?” as I kept screaming. I beat the wasps into the house and proceeded to hold my eye under the cold tap but it didn’t help and OMG did it ever hurt! I iced it all night, but it swelled up like crazy to the point where I woke up the next morning and the view from my left eye was BLOCKED BY MY FACE. It’s better now, but I will never forget the sensation of a wasp crawling on my eyeball. Ick.

Here are the answers to the Robot Quiz:

Fan
Ice Cube Tray
Poop Scooper
Toaster
Wheelbarrow (or Broom)
Kleenex/Facial Tissue
Reading Glasses (or Magnifying Glass)
Pen
Glass, Mug, Keurig, or whatnot
Barbeque

Let me know how many robots you got right.