Only In The North

1. If The Shoe Fits : My favourite foot wear is a pair, or should I say, was, a pair of black Croc flops. I wore them all the time. Neither rain nor sleet nor ice (verifiable by my hair stylist who will comment on flop-less feet) would keep me from my Crocs. While in the GWN, either the flip or the flop went missing while sitting in the vestibule of the nursing residence. I thought perhaps it had been errantly dragged out by a passing suitcase or cooler. I searched outside and inside, but the mate could not be found. The remaining flop lived on the shoe rack, for over a year, even though I go to different places to work. No one thought to toss it, not even me on subsequent visits.

Imagine my absolute joy in finding the flip of the flop languishing in the hidden recesses of a closet in a unit I don’t stay in very often. My feet were happy once again. And then it happened, 24 hours later. That piece that fits between the toes broke on one while I was walking in it. I almost flipped over that flop. Not even twenty four hours after finding it. And my feet are very sad indeed.

2. I Fell Into a Burning Ring: Who knew that knocking a little old light source off a counter in the dark room would have resulted in bright flashing lights, sparks, flames, exposed films, a sore leg and an f-sharp heard to Winnipeg and back?

3. Are you Jeff Goldblum?: Nothing like trying to smack a dim witted fly in a dimly lit room that has brown floors and a brown quilt on the bed. Except the dim wit trying to smack it.

4. Northern One Liners (who knew doctors could be so funny): a) “The Shoppers Drug Mart there should be open...” b) “Hook him up to a blood warmer!”  Okay, maybe you have to be here to get these, but trust me, they are worth the giggles.

5. On Top of Spaghetti: A plate fit for a queen. Lovingly simply seared scallops atop a bed of al dente buttered pasta. I grabbed the plate of pasta with the right hand and turned toward the stove on the left, swinging my right arm over. Forked a scallop to ease on the ...wait...what? Not a single pasta strand remained on the plate but instead was adorning the counter, and the floor (freshly washed too), aided by the silken slipperiness of the butter. I am sure the nurse next door will request that I don’t inhabit the unit beside her anymore, the next time I am here. There has been so much weeping and gnashing of teeth lately.

6. The Return of the Fly: At 2 AM. Another f-sharp and arse hauled out of bed. Turned the lights out in the bedroom, turned the hall lights on, and sat up for a bit. Went back to bed and prayed. Today is Sunday, and he is going to meet his Maker if it kills me.

Better late than never. I have neglected my postings, my Spanish lessons, and myself. No more. And please, as always, feel free to share!