We just got back from another weekend away, this time we went to Victoria. We stayed in a bed and breakfast in the Victoria suburb of Sooke. I was picturing awkward mornings around a table with a bunch of guests and hosts, simultaneously trying to wake up and make conversation with strangers while adhering to breakfast etiquette. Thankfully, what it was actually like was the hosts put a tray of breakfast-ish things out the night before, and we squirreled them away in our room until the next morning. We ate in private, came and went in private. Very nice. If anything, it may have been not enough people. Meanwhile, back in Cloverdale, our cat and water-sucking plants were kept alive by our friend Red while we were gone. Still, it turns out that our trip was the least exciting one in the family, although we did see a couple of whales. One party of five went to Disneyland, and another party of four (five?) went to Nashville to see Elton John in concert.
My work posted a job today that I am going to apply for. It is for a “Field Supervisor” which is a regular old charge hand with a fancy handle. It is the culmination of all the courses I have been taking over the last year or so. Anyone who has read this blog lately has heard me bitch about studying for tests or taking supervisory courses, so yes, there was a point to it in the end. Now I just have to do a good interview. Last time I had an interview for a job at Surrey I fumbled about and couldn’t think of anything to say. What saved me that time was that a couple of the interviewers knew me well. After I was finished, they managed to convince the HR girl that I wasn’t normally the complete dolt she had just seen in action. This time, those people won’t be a part of the process, so I better brush up on how to answer questions in coherent English. It’s times like this I could have really benefitted from having a debonair twin brother.
Two of our daughters have rescued a couple more dogs from Morocco. Why Morocco? It must be a place with a lot of wild dogs, but I have never been there to see. Again it involved an agency on their end sending the dogs as far as Montreal, and our middle daughter going there and putting the pooches on a plane heading West. The daughter who was living with us up until a couple months ago got a testy little mutt who refuses to interact with my wife and I. I must remind the poor dog of someone abusive back in Morocco, because all it does is snarl at me. Which is weird as normally I’m pretty good with pets. This would be another great use for a twin brother. He could get in there and gain the dog’s trust, and I would be ready to take him for stitches as required. I would make him wear my clothes to get the scent right, and the clothes would fit him as well (or badly) as they fit me. Brilliant plan, but alas, there is no twin to rescue my dumb ass. My early life was the lonesome one of a single zygote, swimming about by myself in the womb, unaware that I would be forced to live a life in which I would have to do all my own stunts.
Oh sigh…