Canned Diced Tomatoes
April, 2022
Well it’s been a hot minute since my last musings. The last blog I wrote was December 2020. I had just finished a long stretch of online school, masks and restrictions, and it was Christmas, with little to look forward to. I was living in Stony Plain in my folks wee home, waiting for the stroke of 2021, where all my dreams would come true. Much of the world was still on lockdown, we were all tired and ready for Covid to be done: 2021 was going to be our saviour. It had already become apparent that my May 2021 opening of The Virginia May would be delayed, [can a year be considered a delay?] So there I was, yet another semester in cold arctic Canada. I had very little possessions with me, and was living out of boxes. It was swell. I felt at 54, I really had arrived in life. Writing my blog stalled,
because what was I to write about?
2021 rolled in like a wrecking ball...., and I felt like the Whos waking up on Christmas as the Grinch packed up their presents, their ribbons, their wrappings, their snoof and their fuzzles, their tringlers and trappings...Covid was not going away. I tried to be joyful anyway with very little success. Like many, I was in a fog, the world had altered and shifted in ways I couldn’t even articulate anymore. Nothing made sense. At some point in the spring, it was announced that Alberta would be “open for summer,” and we were all hopeful- yet was it over? Could we come out and play?
Second semester started in February, and was mostly a blur, and by the end of June, I weighed 408 lbs, and my folks house was sold. I had taught online since November, and I was done. I was officially homeless, and it was time to pack up my toothbrush and underwear, and start driving south. Despite two Uhaul cubes and a full vehicle for the summer 2020 trip down, imagine how stunned I was to load up my truck with not one inch of space left. I actually had to decide between the vacuum and the coffee pot. My dear friend Melissa came out to Tetra pack like only a science person could. Even the carrier I bought for behind the truck was full- with my bike stacked on top of Superstore grocery carriers filled with Lord knows what, and if you can believe it- a case of canned diced tomatoes from Costco. Conversational piece we said as Melissa strapped them in. And we laughed. We imagined people pointing and staring at the tomatoes– “see that Ethel? That kid has tomatoes.” “ Hey is that tomatoes that broad has?”
Gibson had no choice but to sit up front with me, and by the time we reached Texas, she and I were not talking to each other. Her breath reeked, and as she kept sliding closer to me, I kept pushing her away. It was a really great ride with a dog.....Also somewhere early in Montana the rubber piece to hold the windshield in place came unattached and flew off as I drove 140 km an hour into the sun. So I glided into Randle Ln with a stinky dog, a cooler jammed under my legs [three day drive....] canned tomatoes strapped underneath my bike, and my windshield lathered in duct tape. Howdy! I have arrived!!
Despite that memorable journey, when I crossed the dotted line between Canada and the USA, I felt..... relief. I was going home to Randle Ln, and starting my new life. I was hopeful! Excited! This is it! School was behind me. I gave myself a pat on the back– that was as close as I was going to get to a retirement party.
Here is where the needle scratches off the ol’ vinyl....unfortunately the second half of 2021 was just as shockingly unexpected as the first half was. My house was not yet finished, and the BnB construction had not started. Building material costs were at a premium, it was hard to find labourers, so construction stalled. I needed to regroup. However, the weather was magnanimous. So I pretended it was not as bad as it was. I believe psychologists would call that delusional. I spent the summer hiking, bike riding, tanning at my neighbour’s pool, eating some pretty terrific food, and just generally socialising everywhere. Texas was open for business, and it seemed Covid was gone. Restaurants and theatres and sports were open. I rejoiced in my new maskless identity. I healed my inner soul a bit, lost my pandemic bulge and mostly I tried to avoid the inevitable. The Virginia May was nowhere near ready. And when I mean not ready, I mean one cottage was not even built and the other was nothing more than a dilapidated shell. I knew I would make a terrible homeless person....and deep down and I mean DEEP down.... I knew I would have to go back to school... oh the dreaded word..... I interviewed in August with Eagle Mountain Saginaw ISD, while in Canada attending my folks 70th anniversary. And so overnight I became a Boswell Pioneer, at the local highschool 12 minutes away from home, and started teaching in a classroom again to grade twelve students coming back from online. School starts the middle of August here, so add that to the list of shocks. It was over 100 degrees outside, and for all intents and purposes it was still summer in my head. This was not the plan. THIS WAS NOT THE PLAN! I pouted, I stomped, I raged.
And then I dug in.
My USA district is a Microsoft district, I came from Google. Now, anyone who knows me knows that my entire career “achilles heel” is technology. There were processes and computer programs, and everything... and I mean everything.... was new. Texas acronym-izes everything.... STAAR, TELPAS, ARD,[just to name a few], so I spent the first five months in some alternate stupor with the daily grind. It seemed people around me knew what was going on, and they seemed to understand this new language of shortened words.
Luckily kids are kids in any country, and the actual teaching part I could do. The kids have been great, they are all amused by their Canadian teacher, and they have put up with me well enough. They laugh at my jokes, the way I say words. They continue their incredulous looks when I tell them I have not been to What A Burger yet [it’s Tim Hortons for Texas], and still no donuts [ there is a donut shop on EVERY corner here]. I have attended their games and am cheerleading them onto graduation. “We got this,” I say. I say this a lot. Really it’s more for my own sanity.
As of this final draft, I am 41 days away from “retirement.” I officially retired with EPSB in November, and promptly got an email congratulating me, and haven’t heard back. I am giddy with the thought of finishing up my teacher world. This is it! My house has long been done, winter has been only four days here in the state of Texas, and the cottages are up and soon to see overnight guests. I do not know how I did what I did this past year. There are days I have this out of body look at myself and my house, and the cottages, and my students... and I think, how? How did I do all this? Ok, yes, the bulge is back a bit.... Mexican food is awesome in this state... My wine allowance may also have increased...more tequila has been purchased for margaritas.... I am frantically trying to get furniture pieces and decor. Ordering big purchases on Amazon remains a challenge. Currently, a bed frame and a sofa is somewhere in the world, but not on Randle Ln. I have an overnight guest in eight sleeps.... I haven’t slept much these past months. But I did it.
I have had so much support and help with this project, and I am so grateful for all who have chipped in. And there have been so many chipping in in ways I could not have imagined. I have met so many great people these past nine months. I don’t know where to start. I feel so loved here. And for that, I am so grateful.
The date for the Grand Opening and Retirement party is set for Memorial Day weekend–exactly one year later than I thought. I plan on celebrating with all these great people who have filled my soul and redeemed my faith in humanity. My closest neighbours are now my family, and I feel so lucky. I am surrounded by the best of people. And the canned dice tomatoes? I made some pretty terrific dishes these past nine months–one can at a time. And isn’t that what life is all about. One can, one step, one margarita, one teardrop, at a time.