I wanted to shake up my life and go sailing (or learn on the job, so-to-speak) so headed to Florida to crew on a catamaran. This is about how it went or, rather, didn't - and my life since. Hopefully it will lead to a catamaran on the clear aqua blue waters of the Caribbean Sea, watching the sunset, a coconut rum and coke in hand. You must START AT THE BEGINNING of the blog, April 2009, to get the whole story...

Sunday, August 30, 2009


It seems I may have forgot to mention a rather important bit of information.

I got a call from the head of HR at Disney a couple of days after my email about being happy to progress from coordinator to Project manager. She told me that the two who interviewed me decided that they would rather hire someone right out of school with a Project Manager course certification. They are going to rename the job to Jr. Project Manager. I had mentioned in my email to her what she had told me the creator of Club Penguin had said to her after the project got canceled - word to the effect that; 'find another position for her in the company. I don't want to lose her.', and asked if that meant I could expect some sort of job if this one didn't work out. She say's that, even though she 'would feel very honored if he said that' about her, it doesn't carry any weight. Since Disney took over, he doesn't have the authority to force someone in another department to hire me. Great. She tells me to keep my eye on the job website and she will keep my resume on file. And that she is looking out for me. As nice as that is to say, it boils down to no job with them at this time. I am having a hard time not getting discouraged.

The sound mixer I met who works for them hears about it and messages me on FaceBook. He tells me that I should come with Shonah as her guest to a work picnic that is being held later in the week. He seems surprised that I didn't know about it. I text Shonah and tell her what he just said and ask if I can go. She calls me back and tells me that she was going to ask me, but she hadn't signed up to go herself so she had to make sure it was ok for her to go first. It is and she wants me to go.

I go. The sound mixer seemed to think that being there would kind of put my face in theirs again and also show that I am really keen to work there. I see the head of HR and say hello to her but she is super busy with the food and barely acknowledges me. I get something to drink and line up with Shonah and her friends for a hot dog and we go sit on a blanket on the grass to eat. Unfortunately, the guy who interviewed me the first time around is on vacation so isn't there. I would really liked to have talked to him. I stay about an hour and a half or so and then Shonah is ready to go and so am I. I don't feel like going made a speck of difference.


A very young couple have moved into the basement suite. They flew in from Toronto with four suitcases between them and an uncle picked them up and brought them here in his truck. She had called that morning to make sure I would be home to give them the keys. When they arrive I take them down back to the suite and show them in. They don't have a stick of furniture. Apparently they have been looking at the local classifieds online and he takes them right back out to get a futon they found in one of them. The next afternoon I am sitting out on the deck, trying to write my ten pages, when I see him pull in with them again, two new bikes in the back of his truck. As the guys unload them, she takes a few bags of groceries out of the cab along with a laundry hamper full of household supplies. I stand up and walk to the rail.

"Hi!" I call down. They look up at me, "Oh, hi!" "Say, I was just thinking. I am going to go garage sale-ing on Saturday to find some books to read. Would you like to come along and see if you can find anything you might need?" "Oh sure," they both answered. "Great. I plan to leave early, eight o'clock. Can you handle that on a Saturday morning?" "For sure." the fellow answers, " Thanks!" "No problem." I reply. And they go inside.

A bit later I am in the kitchen. The son comes up for something to eat. I point to the desk where I put the kitty collar I found. "I found that laying on the side of the road. Is it Jasmine's?" He picks it up. "No. This isn't hers." I breathe a sigh of relief. "I can't imagine where she is. She isn't coming for me." "I don't think she's in the house," he replies, " but it's so strange because she almost never goes out and when she does she comes right back." I tell him I sent an email to his mom asking what color the cat's collar is but didn't mention that she's gone missing again.

Friday night I set my cell phone alarm and it doesn't go off. I check why and I thought I changed the time to 7 but it still reads 8. Hmmm. Good thing I am up early anyway. I get ready to go garage sale-ing and then take the car around to the back driveway and drive up the steep grade to the basement suite door. It's open and they are ready to go. I have a notebook full of garage sale addresses I pulled off of the internet last night right before I went to bed. The young hubby is armed with GPS on his iPhone and the young wife is in the back with a map. We are good to go.

It's a disappointing day. I can't find a single book by the two authors I am looking for; Catherine Cookson and Dick Francis. I do find a paperback copy of Twilight, and I buy it for .50c because I want to know what all of the fuss is about. I find four other books for the same price at various other sales that look promising but I am very disappointed not to find any by CC. The young couple find a DVD player for $2., a globe for $1, and a small variety of housewares. But really, overall it was only a good day to garage sale if you were looking for child and infant items. There were scads of that, very, very cheap and in great condition. I almost broke down and bought a tiny pair of Converse-like runners but restrained myself. Shonah wears Converse all the time and I thought it would be great to give them to her one day when she had a baby. But that is so far off it's just silly to buy them now.

While we are out I get a phone call from a producer with Front Line Pictures and he wants to know my availability for a show on the island. Wide open....wide, wide open. I ask about accommodations and they have rented 3 large houses. The one I would stay in is right on the water, with a hot tub, and five bedrooms that would house the makeup and wardrobe girls as well. Fabulous! I know both keys for those departments on this show and it would be a blast. He tells me I should hear from the Line Producer today or tomorrow. I am excited.

At noon we give up on the garage sales. I take the couple to the grocery store so they can stock up on heavier items that would be a pain to try to get home on a bike. They are so grateful. I don't mind in the least. It's great to have the company.

When I get home, there's an email from the lady of this house and she confirms that the cat's collar is indeed pink with white polka dots. My heart sinks. She says the son had emailed her so she knows the cat is missing. She goes on to tell me that it's not my fault. They know the screen comes loose on the bottom of the door and didn't tell me that it can be tucked back into the frame. I still feel bad.

I cook up some salmon Donna gave me with a box of scalloped potatoes for dinner. It's tasty and Buttons, the other cat, enjoys bits of salmon I feed him. I clean up and then start reading Twilight. I don't put it down all evening. I find a HUGE logic error in it though and that bugs me. Aren't editors the publishing world's equivalent of script supervisors? Shouldn't they have caught that?

I go to bed at around midnight and wake up at three thirty with my guts in a roil. Great. Food poisoning. I spend the next two hours in and out of the bathroom. At about 6 am it dawn on me that the boxed scalloped potatoes probably had MSG in them. I go look at the second box I bought and, sure enough. I hate MSG. It should be illegal to use it.

Normal view with some smoke haze........................................View today with extreme smoke haze.

There is such a heavy haze today, the sun is barely managing to make it's presence felt through it. I look on line to see where the fire is and find out that smoke from fires nowhere near enough to be a threat has blown into the valley here and settled. They don't expect it to clear until the middle of next week.

Due to the lack of sleep I decide to skip church. I get up at about 9 and make a cup of tea and sit out on the deck and continue reading Twilight. It's not a half bad story really. I am actually enjoying it. Shonah texts me at about 10:30 to ask if I am in church and if I want her to come over for lunch. I text her back that 'no I'm not. And yes I'd love that.' I then text her again and ask if she wants chicken strips and yam fries or spaghetti, as that's about all the food I have. She texts me back 'chicken strips and what do we need to make a peach pie?' I look around the kitchen and text her. 'Crisco in the blue box, 10 peaches, and ice cream.' She texts back that she'll bring all that with her. I am looking forward to having her here and hanging out a bit this afternoon.

While I am blogging this, the phone rings and it's Ron Oliver, my favourite director. "Hi there!" I answer. "I just wanted to let you know that I am in Palm Springs and I am standing in Costco in front of a very large display of Malibu Rum and the large bottle, one point seven five liters or something, is fifteen ninety nine." He says without preamble. "Oh thanks a lot," I reply, "called just to gloat did you?" "That's right," he says, "Hang on a minute, I am just talking to my boyfriend." I then hear him say, "I just called Sandra Montgomery to tell her that this bottle of rum here is fifteen ninety nine. It sells for fifty five dollars in Canada." I am laughing on my end. He comes back, "Sorry dear, just had to tell the boyfriend who I am talking to. He is holding a six foot lava lamp he is thinking about buying." I laugh, "Where is he going to put it?" "Oh I will tell him where to put it," he replies, "and it won't be anywhere near eight-oh-one I tell you that." Eight-oh-one is the number on his house and how he refers to it all the time. I laugh again. I tell him about the potential job on the island and he wishes me luck. "Well I must go. I just called to tease you with the Malibu, bye bye and dazzle the producer with your personality and the job will be yours." and he's gone. I love that guy.
All photographs are mine and not to be copied without express permission from me (click on them to see the large version).
Some names have been changed to protect my butt.

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