Sit Ubu, Sit

R.a.n.t. of week 11/23/14

Ever get that feeling you have to stay. Staaaaaaay. STAY! Like a dog? Sometimes I feel that way. In my (most recent) case, I feel as thought I'm staying in the same place for the sake of my kids. First the back story:

When I was married, my wife liked to move continually. She could never stay in the same place. Doing a quick mental note, I count eight different places we lived at within thirteen years. So the last place we were living in at the time of the divorce, I've remained in. To some point, I always thought it would be good for the boys. Since the divorce, their mother has lived in three different places while I'm still in the same place. But like my reasoning for always giving in and moving when the wife wanted to move, it's the same reason I have not moved since the divorce. I've done so for other people. When I was married and she wanted to move, I relented and allowed her to look for another place. She always had a list of reasons why we needed to move. She had a few good points and I tried to keep peace in the family. Then, about a year before our divorce she wanted to move again but by this time I refused. It wasn't long after this the Sheriff showed up at my place of business on our 13th wedding anniversary to hand me her divorce petition. So now I am approaching my 9th un-anniversary and I have stayed. Mostly because I always wanted to give my children stability. Hoping they always had a place that would always feel like home.

Of course my children have now moved on themselves, pretty much living with their mother full time. So the decision now surfaces. Do I move or do I stay? That just brings up other questions. Do I need to move? Am I okay with where I am? Should I look for something better, smaller or different neighbourhood? Where would I go? So many good questions. I think for now, I'm going to stay where I am, sit still. I've got good neighbours, a fully stocked bar in the basement, and am comfortable with my surroundings. And to be honest, I'm really not looking forward to moving again. Eight times in thirteen years has taken a lot out of me. It's been nine years since all those moves and in my own twisted sense of humour, another four years in the same location will sort of negate all those moves that occurred while I was married. And maybe then, I will no longer sit where I am. I can move on.

Becoming the Responsible One

R.a.n.t. of week 07/07/13

When did I become the responsible one? Not saying I'm not a responsible person, I am. In my own way. Responsibilities are paramount to an adult, but not everyone looks up to the same people. This past weekend was a very busy one for me. I had almost no time for myself. Just a few of the things I did: take my step-mother shopping, help a friend with his computer IT problems (have you tried turning it off and on?), volunteered some time to set up a pioneer school and then helped a friend move.

Let's concentrate on the move, because that's where I felt most in charge. First and foremost I did a lot of things outside of my comfort zone. For one, driving a moving van. I've never been big on driving larger vehicles but I felt I needed to in this instance. Right from the start I was the eldest helper, at least initially. So when it was time to get the moving van, I was the logical choice. I went with Jo to pick up the van and drove it to their place. A place in back was the ideal spot to load up, so all I had to do was back it up into the spot. Having a bad time with judging distances, especially from such a large vehicle, and only having the help of kids was fairly nerve-wrecking, but I did it.

So we started loading up the van. Because mostly it was younger ones helping and they were just placing stuff into the back of the van, someone had to step up and I've done this rodeo a few times, so again I was the logical choice. Most of the furniture had already been moved so essentially we just had to make sure everything was packing in tight. The last thing you want to happen when moving with a van is things flying around. The current time was 1:00pm and the van had to be back at 4:30 (I thought 4) so I wanted to get this done in one trip. I stacked as best as possible, but there were more odd sort of items than boxes so I had to be creative, yet smart. You don't want to place a box of books on a bundle of plastic wrapped dress clothes, you just don't. By the time the van was filled, all items in the house were gone.

Once again I was in charge of driving the van, fortunately there was space in front of the new place, though I had to do a bit of parallel parking with the moving van. Did I mention I'm not good with spaces? This time I took the "lead" unloading the van. Did I push things along too quickly? Well, I did stress a few times we had to get the van back at a certain time in hopes of inspiring others to 'move it'. But I don't think I was being brusk. But then again, that would be up to anyone else who was there.

I wanted to take the van back right away but food was prepared and others were ready to eat, so I backed down on that opinion of mine. Truth be told, I needed some water and a bite to eat also. It was nice to be able to associate for a little while, but the van still needed to get back so I took charge of that again, making sure I had a friend come along so I had a ride back to my car.

I know, not a very compelling story this week, not very funny, and more than likely I didn't seem like the person in charge or the most responsible one of the group to others. In all things, beauty...... errrrr responsibility is in the eye of the beholder.

Plus is it very responsible to crack yokes all the time?
Sorry, bit of a hang-over from last week.

P.S. If everyone thought this article was going to be about me crashing a U-Haul van. I guess the jokes on you. The van was returned safely.