The Strike
This summer officially sucks. First, no one has any money to go on vacation, which would be fine if staying in the city were a pleasant option.All the things one would do on a "staycation" (go to the Island, take the kids to splash pads/public pools) are on hold with the strike. This civic strike has been going on for almost a month, and it has shut down necessities, conveniences, and everything that was free and fun. Some of my friends who have kids in city-run daycares don't even have childcare right now.
Everyone I know who is on strike wants to be back at work. The union has been doing a crap PR job, because no one seems to sympathize or totally grasp with their demands. There is a perception that it's all about their cushy bankable sick days, which is giving fist-thumpers plenty to fume about. In the meantime, everything you look forward to in the summer in the city - the cheap and free outdoor stuff is closed or shut down. Everyone is sufferring, but especially kids and poor people.
And the garbage is piling up. I bike home through gutters of glass and trash, praying I won't get a flat as the streetcars stir up dust that blows in my face (no street cleaners). The air smells kind of cheesy and sharp with all the stored garbage overflowing in bins.
There is no sense among anyone as to the "rightness" of either of the parties who have failed to negotiate a contract, just a brewing outrage and low morale as we count our losses.
Pages Bookstore
When I was a teenager, Queen Street had independent designer boutiques, bookstores, a couple of comic shops, divey bars and restaurants. It felt edgy and impossibly cool. Then came McDonalds. And the Gap. And the requisite clothing/fast food dominoes fell into place. And now they are closing Pages bookstore, that beautiful oasis, the last great respite from generic-land and club hell. With their awesome window displays and their awesome sponsorship of local authors and artists in the "This is not a reading series" events.
The store closes August 31. For good. No relocation.
Queen between bathurst and spadina might as well be an outdoor mall. Or Yonge and Eglington.
How we were certain it was an ear infection
Last night G woke up crying. At first we thought it was bad dreams, but he wouldn't go back to sleep for 2 hours. Finally: "My ear hurts. Kiss it better!" I kiss it. (with surprise) "It's not better!" He has discovered that I don't have magic kisses - part of a long line of disappointments to come.
