Am trying to cheer myself up with the opening quote because as my teenaged daughter would say I’m a “mess” and proved it to myself before the work day was even much under way. The story is that I was supposed to tag along on a field trip to look at equipment. Well, when I was first recruited as the replacement I was told me the session was in Liverpool (about 45 min away from work) and for the morning, the group would pick me up in the rented van at Tim Horton’s. Well, okay I can handle that. Never did receive any info on the session, just a quick email last week from the manager saying the session was in Lunenburg (well it is an L name but 40 min. further on) and the pick up time of 0840 hrs. which I agreed to and the possibility that the affair was day long.
For some reason when I reached the office today I had myself convinced I was to meet the group at 0940 hrs and didn’t even check my date book. I started my day and by 8:30 it had completely fallen apart with me resorting to stamping out small fires in many directions. At 8:45 my cell phone rang while I had the office phone glued to my ear and when I answered it I was met with “where are you?” at top volume from the manager. In a confused state I looked at my watch which read 0845hrs and said “here in the office”. This elicited a yell, which caused me to hold the phone out from my ear, of “we’re waiting for you, this is the time we were picking you up!” I recovered my senses and said “I must’ve written the time down wrong in my book, I can be there in 7 minutes, I’m leaving right now” which was met with a loud sigh and “well we really don’t have time, we've been waiting and we're late now” Making an executive decision I said “well you just go right on without me then, I’m so sorry for the confusion” After I snapped the cell phone shut it occurred to me that they were still going to be 20 minutes early for the 10:30 session by leaving now. On contemplation of the series of events I wondered if I was somehow guilty of ‘forgetting’ about the commitment as I really wasn’t engaged in the process. Needless to say I found plenty to fill my day with, catching up on the paperwork - what made me think I had time to be away from the office for another day anyway?
Tomorrow is a road trip to the valley so that will be 6 hours in the car on either side of a 2 hr. session on infection control. Am already planning an early start as the Coldbrook Frenchy’s is a good diversion. Since I’m heading to another climate zone I must remember to dress in layers.
Tonight when I walked the dog I noticed that if the blossoms are any indication we are going to have a bumper crop of blueberries this summer. And that’s pretty amazing considering the bushes were all disturbed by the paving and new road shoulders here last year. The blueberries made me ruminate on blueberry picking in the 1960s when there were less concerns for such things as pesticides and being super protective of children. It was usual to leave the house early in the morning, perhaps appear back at lunchtime for something to eat, wander off to go swimming,, play at the shore or find some neighbourhood activity and eventually make your way home by suppertime without search parties being established or having to checked on by cell phone as per today! My sister and me and various childhood friends would pick blueberries ‘on the tracks’ meaning that we time
d it so as not to have to relocate when the sporadic freight or regular passenger trains made their way through. We were entertained occasionally by line repair crews on either hand pumped or motorized platforms who inspected and repaired the tracks. There didn’t seem to be any parental alarm, from any parents, not just mine about this activity. I can remember being really ticked about the pesticide being sprayed on the tracks and having to wait for a few good rains to go back picking nearer the track bed. Mind you a friend who grew up on the prairies remembers kids being sent out to stand in the fields as markers for the planes crop dusting. And to think that we are very concerned if vegetables aren’t triple washed now in the stores. It's a wonder we survived at all.
