Once Again I Bit My Tongue

.....so hard it'll need to be surgically re-attached. Good thing I have a surgeon on speed dial, isn't it babies? Here's why his services were required....this time.....

Picture if you will one HRG, broom and dustpan in hand, pondering life, love and the pursuit of happiness when.....

(middle aged man approaches, pauses a moment to inflate his ego and sense of superiority)

man: Good morning. (smiles at HRG)

HRG: (returns smile) Good morning.

man: (eyes broom with a measure of disdain) You know, if you had an education, you could get a real job.

HRG: (quickly looks around, mentally counts witnesses, thinking: You know, if you had a penis, you could be a real man...)

HRG: Yes, it is a gorgeous day, isn't it? (she smiles, looks him in the eye and with the slight lift of the eyebrow, deflates his ego on the spot)

That's how it really happened. It happened just that way. The day HRG socked it to the asshole with the mba.

HRG

You Could Be My Silver Spring

Life has a way of passing you by sometimes, doesn't it babies? Days turn to weeks that turn to months, and you're left wondering where the time went. After all, wasn't it just yesterday that..(insert event here)....

It seems like it was just yesterday that I walked into the Glen Lake Inn and right into the strangeness that was Krusty. Someday I will write the ballad of Nancy and Krusty. Just not now. I have way too many other song lyrics running through this groovy head, it would just end up being a line stolen from each. Of course, if I were to use an auto-tuner and turn it into a rap song....

There I go again, tap dancing around saying what's in my heart. Or why it hurts so much. I don't quite understand it myself. I don't know why hearing a Daughtrey song on the radio had me sobbing in my chair. I don't know why I've listened to Silver Spring so many times my mp3 player actually sighs audibly when I scroll to the song, and the repeat function is suddenly, well, not functional. I'm going to have to start paying royalties to Stevie soon. We were friends, nothing more, nothing less. In my heart I always knew that I would never come first with him. Knowing that really was the reason I kept my feelings in check. My spidey sense was dead on. I felt no spark, no desire, no passion. No matter what you think your feelings are, to live a life never having sex again certainly wasn't in the cards for HRG.

We were Will & Grace. But you know babies, eventually, even they had to let go and move on.

And now he's gone back east to be with his father who is, sadly, not well. I'm glad he's done that, their issues should be resolved before it's too late. I understand why he left.

I just don't understand why he left without saying goodbye.

I just don't understand why it hurts so much.

HRG

Never Under Estimate The Power of "The Eyebrow"

Good Morning babies! Looks like Spring is finally upon us. The sun is peeking out from behind the clouds, TCB is on holidays and we have a whole week to play in the dirt together. It's about time.

Ah, but HRG you ask, why should we never under estimate the power of the Eyebrow?

As you all know, leaving the nastiness of "the mistake" behind as the year and decade ended was done. None of that baggage was brought forward. It was my choice to stay, my choice to fix our marriage. I did this because I do love TCB and he knows what will happen if it ever happens again. He promised no contact with that...that....that....(well, I want to say woman, but you guys are all pretty creative people, so insert your own expletive here) I believed him. You see, I can feel it when she's been in contact. And, yes, I do check his phone, etc. regularly. I may have forgiven him, but we're not to the regained trust stage. Not yet. Still, I was pretty confident that she was banished forever.

Then I walked past the table where his phone was. And there it was, in a letter that was 10 feet tall and flashing. That letter? K. So I turned the phone on. I was right. There it was, a text message from her.

Now, two things could've happened. I could've dragged TCB out of bed by his balls and start yelling, or................

I could reply to the message.

So I did. Twice. The first message was short and to the point. "do not contact me again". That's pretty clear, yes? But I wasn't done. I sent another text that told her I was aware of what had happened and wondered if her husband would be as interested in all the things I have. I could feel her blood run cold. No, I didn't feel bad at all, but I knew (after all what's the good of having this spidey sense if I don't listen to it?) the point had been made. But it wasn't enough. So....a facebook message was sent. I was careful with my words and language. Losing my fb privileges because of that slut wasn't an option. Here was my message:

"Just a brief note to make sure you fully understood the text messages you received yesterday. I'd tell you my opinion of you, but I'm sure you already have a good idea. Would your husband be interested in copies of all the e-mails, messenger history and texts that I have? I bet he would. I may or may not send to him after all, but the beauty is you will never know when or if they'll just land in his lap. If you have any further contact, directly or indirectly, with TCB, I will publish everything I have in a very public place. Do you understand me? Find someone else's husband to screw around with."

Then I blocked her at every turn, opening a dialogue with her was not something I wanted. I know what they did, TCB has admitted it and now she can spend the rest of the year wondering if I actually will do anything with the things I found. I hope it eats her up inside. Then she can know how it feels.

The story has a happy ending (and no not the kind that started all this bullshit in the first place).I do believe she got the message. In glancing through another friend's list I saw she was gone. I checked his wife's list. Gone from there too. Good. She may have realized that she's insignificant and can be brought to her knees with the lift of an eyebrow.

Problem solved.

HRG

No Wonder The World Didn't Know What To Think

......because for seventeen days we, as a country, stepped out of character and allowed ourselves to feel good about excelling at something. We waved our flags high, cheered loud and proud. The naysayers, the Cause For Hire morons will just have to find another cause they know nothing about to take up now, won't they? Like the rest of the world, I suspect they weren't quite ready for the backlash they received. Their message is lost when violence ensues. We're Canadian. We simply will not tolerate it.

Let's focus on the positive, shall we? Good. We won more medals than ever before, we won more Gold medals than any other country in Olympic history. None of our athletes were pulled out for illegal drug use, we won because we were the best. The high marks given by the IOC said it all. Today the world knows what we've always known ourselves.

We are as good as Gold!

HRG

The Art of Letting Go

Good morning my babies! The sun is shining, the air filled with the promise of Spring. For us anyway. Not so much for the rest of the country. Sucks to be them. "Winters" like this are what brought HRG to this idyllic little rock. The urge to get everything in the ground now is strong, but patience is the key. We still get frost in the wee hours, so heavy this morning that the geese were slipping and sliding as they tried to land on the fields. It was funny. At least the gulls circling overhead thought so. Isn't it hilarious to hear birds laughing? A great way to start my day.

So, it's been a year since the store closed. There's a big empty hole where we used to be. It's time to get back out there and fill the in the spaces. Retail has a way of burning you out, and quickly, especially at the upper management level. I was so tired, so fed up with the public and to be blunt, hating old people. Their sense of entitlement never ceases to amaze and disgust me. Haughty attitudes in cheap shoes. More than once I wanted to reach over the counter and just start slapping. Once I actually asked someone if she kissed her grandchildren with that mouth. She'd reduced one of my staff to tears and well babies, that is something that is not acceptable.

Yet, I miss it. I was good at it too. That's something that no one can take away from me. Although some have tried by constantly hitting my knees and trying to pull the rug out from under these groovy feet. I'm tougher and stronger than that.

And really, let's face it, the last person you ever want to fuck with is a Witch.

It's been a grieving process, despite bi-polar man and a staff member or two who tried so hard to make my life miserable. Karma has a way of doling out payback babies, and sometimes it's a bitch, isn't it? The two who tried so hard to destroy me have fallen on hard times. I can't, don't and will never have any sympathy or empathy for them. You reap what you sow. Their fields are black and empty and will stay that way until they learn. They should have figured out by now that if they do want a job, using my name as a reference probably isn't a good thing. Privacy laws don't allow me to tell prospective employers all the reasons these people should never be hired, but I've learned to tap dance around the questions and give honest answers without trashing them. No matter what my feelings are, trashing them makes me look bad, and I do have a business reputation to think about. Say what you want about me (and some certainly do, don't they?), I spent five long years building relationships in a world that to begin with, I didn't think I belonged. I've worked hard to garner the respect I have. It's not something ever taken for granted. It's also a solid gold bargaining chip. I know what I want now, where I want to be and won't stop until I'm there.

So it's time to let go of Entree. I think less and less about the store now, those memories are in a brightly wrapped box, ready to placed neatly with the rest. Every now and again, I do take a box down, open the lid and revisit the happy times. Only the happy ones. The dark times are gone, banished to a place from which they can never return.

Sometimes though, in amongst the happy memories, an unanswered question or two will pop up.
And that's the point (I think) of this post.

Seeing the dynamic duo last weekend reminded me that maybe I hadn't let go of everything to do with them. It's sad to think they're cowards, hiding behind masks of self-righteousness. Ending friendships over who paid for a plane ticket? Pass me a note in gym. That was childish. What was gutless was their choice to dump all over Mystery Mama, thinking she was the weakest link. Horribly hurtful words were fired, every one a bullet, every one aimed at her. I've never been able to understand that. She didn't pay for the ticket. I did. I just didn't realize that permission had to be given first. Bad HRG! Bad HRG!!

So why not use me for target practice instead? Take your shots at the person who's to blame. It's the knowing I wouldn't run for cover, instead I'd grab the bullets out of the air and fire them back that had them taking pot shots at the wrong person. Shame on them.

But you know babies, some questions cannot be answered, sad and frustrating as that may be. Sometimes we have to ask them and then just release them, like balloons. They'll just float away to places unknown. Every now and then we may catch a glimpse of one, far away on the horizon, and for a brief moment, the question will be there. Then, just as suddenly, a breeze will gently push it away, gone as quickly as it appeared, leaving only the warm yellow colors of the happy memories hidden underneath. Turn your face to the warmth and remember these words:

You cannot move forward with one foot planted firmly in the past.

HRG

The Best Laid Plans Of Mice And Men And HRG

..... will be guaranteed to get completely fucked up, leaving HRG once again looking and feeling like the bad guy. No matter that our planned weekend away also didn't happen. Once again, TCB stepped up at the last minute and took the on call phone. He had no choice actually, all he had was the bad timing of being the last one in the office on a day he'd already "compromised" on. By the time he'd had a minute to call and let me know, it was far too late to make other arrangements. How selfish would your HRG look, calling to say "oh by the way, my plans have changed, so drop what you're doing and pick me up". That would be inconsiderate. Our romantic getaway? Another time.....

Enough pouting and whining because it all turned out alright in the end. More or less. We made the best of a less than ideal situation. The upside, small as it is and even though I watched alone, seeing the opening ceremonies for the Olympics was well worth it. Technical glitch or two, but they matter not. It was spectacular, and we sure know how to throw a helluva party, don't we?

(sidenote: next party, nix the opera singer--are there words to the Olympic Hymn? Couldn't hear them, was too busy cleaning the blood out of the animals' ears. Bats were flying amok, screaming frantically over the noise, their little bodies slamming into buildings everywhere, it was sad, so very sad....)

Of course, all the brotherly love was forgotten the very next morning. Cowards, dressed in black, masks covering their faces as they threw newspaper boxes through plate glass windows and vandalized cars and buses. These Cause For Hire morons piss me off babies. They are so far removed from reality that it's frightening. This is what our universities are producing? A liberal arts degree, beard and an erasable sign are apparently the only tools you need to survive. Ok, to be fair, some of the women do shave. Occasionally. They're not even smart enough to realize that it's too late. Violence and vandalism will get their names in the paper though. Oooh, that outta get them laid. (babies, I'll stop now before this turns into a soap box rant--you're welcome)

In short we made the best of the time we had and it all turned out alright. It was busy for TCB, but we snuck some quality time in when we could. And that's all we'll say about that. Nothing more to see here, move yourselves along.....

Went to a really great concert last nite. One of the best I've seen in a long time, and probably the best Colin James has ever played and sounded. During intermission, I ran into, (almost literally, there were a lot of people there!) an old furry friend. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights. I could feel DTVCB not far away. I greeted her with a true warmth, that made her uncomfortable, at least she looked that way. What I wanted to say was:

"Really? All this over the principle of a plane ticket?"

What I said was:

"It's good to see you".

I meant it.

HRG

Speaking Of Things That Make Me Shake My Head

We've been approached (as a Band) to play at this year's TC 10k run. It has the makings of a gig that good things could come out of, but.......

We would have to be on the lawns to set up at five o'clock. In the morning. Now would be a good time to point out that the run is on a Sunday. The sun does not wake up before seven o'clock. In the morning. They "probably" can find us some power from somewhere, but really, it'll be up to us. Good luck trying to find anyone who isn't carrying a protest sign, a tent and/or pushing a shopping cart there at five o'clock in the morning. Chances are it will rain, so they "probably" can find a tent or tarp for us to set up ourselves in case we need it. You know, because playing on the wet ground in the pouring rain is oh so safe, what with all the cords and all. What could possibly go wrong with a stage set up like that?

We'd play for "probably three or four hours" with few, preferably no breaks during that time. They would have full access to our sound system to use as they wish. They'd like us to consider this a "charity event", they could "probably" pay us a two hundred dollars to cover costs, but were making no promises.

I know it's Saturday babies, but let's brush up on our math skills, shall we? A minimum of ten thousand people run this race. The cost to enter is thirty five dollars. Three hundred and fifty thousand dollars (low ball figure, an estimated thirteen to fifteen thousand people will run this year) is a pretty good take, doncha think? Out of all of that, they can "probably" pay us?

Let me have a moment. Let me have another one. We probably won't do it.

Is this what runner's high is? Losing complete touch with reality? If that's the case, well , your humble HRG will keep right on walkin'....

Tsk Tsk Tsk

.........is really all I have to say. Ok, maybe not the only thing I have to say, but right now.....

Someone in TCB's family told me I was less than a good parent for not clinging so tightly to my adult child that he couldn't breathe. It's our "job" to protect them, no matter what they've done, no matter what the cost. I don't agree with that, never have, never will. How do they ever learn about life and struggles if not encouraged to set out on their own? How do they learn to get around if never allowed or encouraged to do it on their own? Chauffeur my grown son around to everything? Refuse to let him move out and live on his own or throw a tantrum when he does?Not likely. J laughed so hard at this and reminded me to consider the source and let it go. He's right. What an adult thing to say! But, what do I know? Being a horrible parent (and as a result, a horrible person) and all. To suggest that HRG is less than a loving, caring parent, less than a loving, caring human being cut me to the quick. The insults went farther than that, but that's not what we're here to talk about this morning.....

Before everyone get their panties in a twist and jumps to conclusion that I'm speaking directly to them....read on..... you see, this is the result of coddling.............

There's been a high profile case here. A man was murdered. Beaten to death in what was ultimately decided to be "self defence". Bullshit, plain and simple my babies. Bullshit. Ken Brotherston and his sons not only beat a man to death, but prevented anyone from calling for help and took the long way before dumping his body at the police station.

Why were they being blackmailed to the tune of a hundred grand? If they'd done nothing wrong, then why not just call the police? But you see babies, the sons had done something wrong, lots and lots of something wrong. And the one person who could've shone light on why he was attempting to extort that amount of cash was conveniently taken care of.

At any point the police could've been called. The Brotherstons had the choice of involving the authorities and letting them deal with it. Instead, they chose to appoint themselves judge, jury and executioner. They chose to beat a man nearly to death, and then watched him die as they took their time driving to get help. They stopped others from calling for help. They wanted Keith Taylor to die--their secrets died with him. Or so they think. The truth has a way of getting told, one way or another. It will come out. Eventually. Hopefully before they decided to teach someone else lesson.

But there's more, my babies! The sons, Ken jr and Greg (no acronyms here either, their names should never be forgotten....even though they are nothing more than low level thugs) were not supposed to be in the same place at the same time. Neither was to consume alcohol. Yet, there they were, their happy little family, with Ken sr and (mom) Marie feeding them booze, enabling the behaviour.....Both parents with their heads so far up their asses, choosing to ignore the obvious. You can't live in a very small, elitist area without knowing what everyone is up to. Worried that Keith Taylor was a dealer and addict? Look at your own Ken and Marie, Big time dealers, low rent thugs. In short, trailer trash. Just the way you raised them. I bet you're proud.

And now they've gotten away with it. Watching them smirk and swagger on the news made this groovy heart sick sick sick.

This brought back painful memories of something that happened to loved one of an old friend. He too was beaten to death by someone who had something to hide. Someone who could've called the police, but chose not to. He didn't have to die at the hands of someone else. Well, at the feet of someone much bigger who stomped on him so hard the internal damage done was ultimately fatal. And an innocent little girl grew up without her Dad. There was no justice for DT, he died and the person (can't call him a man, now can we?) who murdered him did less than three years at Club Fed. He's still dealing, still a thug, yet he walks free.

He's probably waiting at the bar to buy the Brotherstons the first round.

A hex on all of them!

HRG

A Little More Justice

....came for Nina today.

Forgive the re-posting of an old rant, babies, but as some of you are well aware, there was something about this case that hit this groovy old heart, and hard. For whatever reason, seeing Nina's picture for the first time struck me with an almost maternal pain. I can't explain it. Some things just stick with you.

Justice June Ross deserves an award! In overturning the manslaughter conviction which would've seen Stephanie Bird eligible for day parole this year, she instead sentenced her to life with absolutely no chance of parole for ten years. She has ten more years of incarceration to work in turning her life around. Does rehabilitation really work? Time will tell. But the stigma will follow her to the end of her life and beyond. She will always be regarded with suspicion and mistrust. She will always be isolated and shunned. If old traditions were still truly practiced, she would be shamed and cast out. Instead she will be locked away. At last someone had the balls to hold this girl accountable for her actions. Somebody finally spoke up for Nina.

Her name was Nina Courtepatte and she will always be 13 years old.

HRG

Sunday, May 04, 2008/Her Name Was Nina (republished)

.........and she was 13 years old.

Three years ago she was lured away from a mall. Sadly, the truth is she wasn't lured away at all. She was chosen by a group of late teens/early twenties. They wanted to kill someone. Anyone. Didn't matter who. So they randomly chose her. They convinced her to go to a bush party with them.

Then they beat, repeatedly raped her in the most horrific of ways, mutilated and then killed her.

Her name was Nina. She was 13 years old.

All but one involved has been sentenced. It's this last one that has my blood boiling.

I hate it when the race card is played. Two sets of rules should absolutely NOT exist! And yet this girl's lawyer seems to have a deck full of them.

Yes. You read it right. Girl. She was 17 at the time, and now her lawyer is arguing that she doesn't deserve federal jail time. Oh sure, she was the one who did the talking to Nina. She was the one who convinced her to go to the "party". She was the one who struck the first blow to Nina's head. With a lead pipe. She held Nina down while she was repeatedly assaulted and tortured. She helped murder her. Then she helped hide the body. And then she helped cover up the crime.

According to her lawyer, here's why she doesn't deserve to go to jail for life:

"Colleen Connolly, argued that the woman's youth and her status as an aboriginal must be considered. The woman is 20 now, but was 17 at the time of the crime. Her aboriginal mother was a drunk. The woman was sexually abused as a young child. Connolly asked for a seven-to-11-year sentence, and that the woman be given as much as double credit for the three years she has already spent in custody."The imposition of a life sentence is rare," Connolly said."

WTF? Since when does someone's race come into play? If a caucasian kid had been involved in Nina's death, there would be screams of racism, it would be made into a hate crime. What fucking difference does the race of the murderer make? Special consideration for being First Nations? Give me a break. What this "young woman" participated in was of her own choice--she has shown no remorse for her actions. That was pointed out by several court appointed psychiatrists. The defence declined to call their own experts to the stand. What does that tell you?

Oh but wait, there's more:

"Connolly has asked the court to impose a permanent publication ban, so that the woman's name will never be known to the public. If the young woman is named, Connolly said that would possibly upset her drug rehabilitation and haunt her wherever she goes. "She is always going to be (the one) who committed the golf course murder who took Nina Courtepatte's life."

Because lord forbid she actually be held RESPONSIBLE for her heinous crime. And it certainly wouldn't be fair to upset her, now would it? No no no no no. It wasn't her fault really. See? Here's the race card. Fifty two of them actually.

I don't give a rat's ass what color her skin is. That remorseless bitch should be locked up for life. None of this Karla Holmoka deal bullshit either. The race card should be burned, the door locked, the key thrown away. Do the crime, do the time.

For the record, Nina was First Nations. What "special considerations" were shown to her?


Her name was Nina. She was 13 years old.

HRG

Happy 50th Anniversary

Good morning Babies! The sun is shining, the deluge of wet stuff poured on us from above (by what must be very bored angels) has stopped and our safe lives go on. Let's all take a moment to remember those whose entire lives were changed, forever, in thirty seconds. In less time than it takes us to make microwave popcorn, everything they knew was gone. Somehow it makes all of our day to day dramas a little less important, doesn't it?

Today marks what would've been my parent's golden anniversary. Fifty years. I never really understood the dynamic of their marriage. In some ways, that they stayed together until she died is still beyond my comprehension. It wasn't until after she was gone that I came to understand how much my father loved her, despite everything. All those years of being told what a horrible, controlling man he was, yet she stayed. I never understood why. Now I do. Probably better that the whole truth wasn't known until after. There's another secret kept between me and my father. Did you ever see the movie "Same Time, Next Year"? That was her life. My siblings know nothing of the 25+ year affair and never shall. No good can come from the telling.

It helps to know that in the beginning they were so much in love. Their early years, while trying at times, were good ones. We were all wanted and planned children, my early family memories are good ones. It's the good years we'll silently celebrate. At some point today, my father will smell her perfume, if only briefly....

I hope he smiles.

HRG

Letters I've Written..Never Meaning To Send

Did we all survive our lack of New Year's parties everyone? Did you remember to leave your baggage somewhere it would never be found? Hey, if you're looking for fun, leave it at the airport, that'll really mess security up, won't it? Maybe it'll stop the airport authority from demanding that little old ladies unzip their trousers. Pervert.

But I digress....

The year is off to a good start for HRG. As promised, forgiveness was given at midnite and when these groovy eyes opened on New Year's Day, when the foggies cleared after that oh-so-important first cup of Buckstars French roast (which was once loudly declared to be tasteless, despite the special trip and $17 lb. cost, and it was preferred it not be made in the "good" coffeemaker, a comment that cut deep.....) my first thought wasn't a bad one. TCB promised he'd let it all go, cut all contact and my spidey sense tells me he's being truthful.

Waking filled with hope and happiness for the first time in months and months felt so wonderful. Life, while still filled with some uncertainty, feels good and right again. It feels relaxed with TCB, like it used to--hell, at the end of last rehearsal, when we were tearing down, a song that means something to us started playing. We had a moment. We slow danced and for that minute, it felt like there was no one else there. Until someone coughed that embarrassed "hey, it's not fun watching you 'coz we know you" cough that is. It felt like this heart would explode. Fear and Doubt ran for cover, Hope threw open the windows to allow the sunshine and fresh air in again. It even feels different walking into our cute little bungalow. Staying was the right choice. I know TCB will be more cautious about his choices from now on. Onward we go. Together.

This past Sunday we gathered again, musicians and friends, to bid farewell to a man who led an interesting and ultimately extraordinary life. No acronyms today my babies, Edward 'Tat' Tatoosh was a teacher of language and life. Coming from extremely rough beginnings in an extremely tough mill town, he experienced it all. Good and Bad. Time in prison as a young man, alcoholism, drug addiction, horrifying abuse at every turn could have had him homeless and dead a long time ago. Instead, he turned it around. He became a counsellor, a mentor, an inspiration to the youth he tried so hard to reach. Heavily involved in land claims issues at the federal level, he was also a huge proponent of taking responsibility, he did not suffer fools gladly, and had no time to play what he called the "Blame Game".

Tat was also a great Bluesman and that is how we met. At a jam. Fifteen years ago. Paul introduced us. I had to take a step backward--he radiated a power that I can't explain. His colors were bright and flashing, yet at the same time there was an aura of calmness about him. You all know my trust issues run deep, yet at that moment I'd have turned my life over to him. He was kind and you just knew you'd always be safe with him. His face heavily wrinkled with the stories of time, his eyes all seeing, sparkling with mischievous wit....in short, one of the kindest men I've ever met. The Dream Catcher he made for me still hangs over my side of the bed. He helped open my eyes to so many things, helped me learn to not be afraid of what I am, instead to learn my craft and how to handle the dreams and spidey sense moments. I'm still learning, now I have a guide to help. For that, I am eternally grateful.

I thank The Fates for the honor and privilege of having been called his friend.

Humbly,

HRG