Palace Fail

 This week I returned to part-time hours at work after a six month stint of full time filling in for a maternity leave position.

Fifteen hours/ week is not sustainable and on top of that my ego is bruised because I had been putting in a huge effort, doing a decent job and hoping that if the lady who was on leave resigned (which she did) I might become full time on a permanent basis. When I was there 2 days/ week I found it hard to learn the job and harder to feel part of the team but once I was there 5 days, I was able to improve all of that.

Anyhow, at the same time my favourite cinema noticed that I hadn't been in a while and offered me a half price ticket.

I didn't have to be at work in the morning and the ticket was so cheap, I made a booking for Monday evening.

When I got there, the lift from the car park was not working and there was a sign to call the box office for assistance. I couldn't imagine that they would be able to fix the lift but I called anyway and the phone went unanswered.

From the  underground carpark to the cinema foyer (which is above street level) there must be about 25 or 30 stairs and the majority of those with no hand rail.

I decided not to attempt the stairs and reluctantly headed for home.

I emailed customer service with a request for a refund and received a reply saying that the carpark is not operated by the cinema and therefore it was not their problem but they were giving me an opportunity to buy two more half price tickets. (The carpark is leased to a car park company but the lift belongs to the cinema building)

The wording was sneaky, though and for a few minutes I thought I was being given two tickets.

The dodging of responsibility was not the response I hoped for but I replied and thanked them for the tickets.

It was only after I hit send that I realised that not only did I not receive a refund but they were asking me to buy two more tickets.

So how come they have failed on multiple levels but I am the one who feels dumb?

Who's an Orange Poo Bum?

 

There certainly is plenty said online about Donald Trump's incontinence. There are references to his diapers, there are videos of people near gagging on what we can only assume is the smell of the guy. There are many jokes and memes. The topic has a life all of it's own.

Now, Trump appalls me. His behaviour disgusts me. His hatefulness depresses me. His destruction of so much that was good horrifies me.

In many ways I am happy to see him mocked. I think he deserves plenty of scrutiny and he has put himself well in the line of fire for all the mockery he attracts.

Having said all of that, I am really not sure what I think of the whole incontinence issue being so publicly joked about.

If I was doubly incontinent (or for that matter just incontinent of urine) I would be embarassed, ashamed, sad and frustrated.

If the whole world knew about it, it would be worse. If the whole world mocked me for it, I would wish to die.

I think of the aged care residents I know, the majority of them are incontinent but they are still people who have innate dignity and deserve to be treated as valuable.

Trump is a monster but I am not sure I can support the mockery he receives around this issue. It makes me uncomfortable because I think there's a very thin distinction between laughing at a disgraceful politician because of his uncontrolled bowel and laughing at the old bloke in the care home who never hurt a fly but can't recognise his need to go to the toilet. 

I'm also not sure it is the right thing to pick on.

A failing body seems to be the easiest,  laziest thing to laugh at. His moral and ethical failures are so much more significant. Truth be told they are probably even more frequent than the full diapers.

What do you think, dear reader? Does he deserve whatever insults come his way?

Mother

 Tonight I wanted to write a post but couldn't think of a topic. 

And then I happened to come across this art work

I have never seen it before but it recalls my days as a young mother, perched on the edge of a bed or a couch or a kichen stool, feeding a child or two.

The fingers spreading out and pulling on the skin is a detail I had forgotten but I know my hands remember.

I love the light. I love the crib on the floor by the bed, I often used car capsules the same way.

I love the linens on the bed and I know the comfort of those sheets.

I loved to wear a rustling skirt like the one worn by this mother.

I love the water jar by the bed and remember how there has never been a thirst like that of breastfeeding.

I love the hint of lace on the baby's blanket

and the exquisite beauty of the newborn's head.

I think I want to buy a print. A large one.

Mother. Elin Danielson-Gambogi