thrift shop down the road

Busy is good. Classes start this week - a small home class last night, Ryerson people who were disappointed by the cancellation came to my living room instead; and today, my advanced U of T group, including two students back after taking the course years ago. Good to be at work.

Because I am still in a daze, a fog, a funk. Tonight I kept thinking, Must call Mum. I called her 4 or 5 or 6 times a week, for years. The cat started purring, which she so rarely does. I thought, Must tell Mum. She loved cat stories.

Can't. She's not there.

Okay. Move on.

Someone who IS there: President Barack Obama. How thrilling was that speech, coming out swinging. Of course it'll be nearly impossible to fix all those things, income inequality, climate change, gay marriage, immigration, but I guess this term, he'll try harder. Bravo, you beautiful man.

Several boring medical appointments later - yesterday afternoon, an hour and a half waiting for a thyroid ultrasound at St. Mike's - I saw my doctor this morning. "You won't die tomorrow," she said, which sounds awfully good to me. Something is a little wonky with my parathyroid, two tiny thingies in there somewhere which regulate calcium. I see an endocrinologist at the end of the month. Enough already. The last place on earth I want to sit around right now is a hospital. Driving to the airport on Sunday with my kids in the rental car, we passed the Civic Hospital - where my son was born, where my mother died.

Very cold and snowy here - but nothing compared to brutal Ottawa. To which I have to return soon, to begin the excruciating process of clearing out Mum's cluttered condo. So looking forward to that, as you can imagine. About as much as Obama is looking forward to tackling hardline Republican cretins, I'm sure.

And finally - the bad news. There's a huge hit out now, by Macklemore and Ryan Lewis, about how cool it is to go shopping at Goodwill, putting down designer stuff and extolling vintage.

I wear your granddad's clothes
I look incredible
I'm in this big ass coat
From that thrift shop down the road

NOOOO! I have eight big ass thrift store coats. Now all the second hand stores will be even more crowded. Go away!

See? Just not my cheery self. She'll be back. But not today, not in the dead of winter, not while she still wants to talk to her mama.