bogeyandruby

Random stuff, reflections on the meaning of life and death, humour, self-deprecation, a bit of bad poetry.

Every once in a while, I check out LinkedIn to see what’s out there in the job market. I’m still waiting for my dream job that will combine stacking books and removing foam from lattes. Instead of exciting job offers, however, there was a private message from someone who seems to think I need a …

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I convinced Ian that we should dress up as murderers this Halloween. Who knew a costume could be so easy? “And if your eyebrow goes straight across your head, you will most likely become a murderer.” “Oh, my God!” someone shrieked, touching their face.” —  Elaine McCluskey, The Most Heartless Town in Canada  For some …

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It’s my dad’s 89th birthday today. Since the first time he nearly died during cardiac surgery, eleven years ago to the day, my dad has set his sights on making it to 90. A natural extrovert and party-man (his idea of a good time is making sure his guests practice the deadly sin of gluttony), …

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This past Friday, our health unit dispatched two teams to a local senior’s residence in crisis to help with medications and COVID-19 testing. I was paired with an auxiliary nurse I hadn’t worked with before, a tall and elegant Roshumba Williams type. We met in the lobby of the residence and practiced vigorous hand hygiene …

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January 2nd, 2020. The public health care system I work for requires me to write it in this format: year/month/day. I purposely did not post resolutions yesterday. Been there, done that. Besides, they don’t really work and leave us feeling less than. Life is too short. At some point yesterday evening, I found myself eating …

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Sometimes I feel like an imposter in my own life. This evening, my rockstar husband and I are playing a gig at our beloved Mariposa Cafe to raise money for the St. James Drop-In Centre, a wonderful community resource that supports members who are coping with homelessness, addiction and mental health issues. Our friend, Antonella, …

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I found a crumb on my bosom the other day. That’s where they usually land when I eat. The less buxom among us find them in their lap. I have this habit of changing my clothes right before I eat. Depends on what I’m already wearing (anything light or white, for example) and what we’re …

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This showed up as a memory on my facebook feed this morning: “It’s never a good sign when a dying patient says you look tired and the next day a 95 year old man with Liberace hair and a tan tells you the same thing.” Eight years later and I’m still tired. Mind you, back …

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