Table of Contents

Sharon - entered January 27 to March 13, 2008 - unlucky in love.

Rose - December 2, 2007 to January 21, 2008 - so what sort of person does a space Alien anthropologist approach?

Minda - October 24 to November 18, 2007 - what happens when Mum becomes a lifer in prison?

Rivka - September 11 to October 9, 2007 - an ultraOrthodox girl experiences problems adjusting to mainstream life.

Tzeporah - August 10 to September 10, 2007 - a refugee from the past has to keep a low profile.

Caroline - May 7 to 14, 2007 - so what happens when both parents die of drug overdose, leave you growing up with Grandma?

all other items - last full table of contents was published April 2007 - for ease of finding, please scroll down at right and click on "April 2007".

Sharon 7

Usually I don't bother with the weekday paper. Today I make an exception, as a familiar face appears on the front page.
It turns out one of our well known City officials has been caught with his fingers in the cookie jar. Specifically, taking a bribe from a developer.
Now that is really nice, seeing the police start to clean up the corruption, albeit a bit overdue.
And of course, nice to see people other than my boyfriends do actually get arrested.
Heh heh heh, even nicer knowing that's Naomi's fiance. Schadenfreude? Perhaps. But there is no question she's laughed at me enough. Make that a mix of Schadenfreude and revenge.
My sparkling good mood lasts til morning coffee break. Jennifer sits next to me, carrying her paper. Wicked smile, "you ah read the gossip column?"
"No."
She opens it, passes it to me.
"Once again, yours truly has the inside scoop. Which famous person in town (hint: see the front page) was recently seen sharing a table at Starbucks with which other famous person (hint: this makes the 4th BF cops have hauled away)? And they say librarians are bores?? Better look out guys, if you're #5, it ain't a good omen."
I groan loudly, "the only da** reason we were at the same table, Naomi was there too."
Jennifer shrugs, "can't even sue the b****. After all, she didn't name names. Life sure is a downer, huh? So, what is he like in bed?"
Indira pushes open the door, "got the Police Chief on hold on line one. He said find you if I hafta drag you outa a meeting or the bathroom."
I groan inwardly, doubting he'll believe what I have to say.

Sharon 6

Coffee break at the staff room in the Public Library. Jennifer is relating, in two voices, her recent encounter with an out-of-town businessman. Here's part.
"But that is ridiculous. How on earth can a city your size have no public internet terminals in the library?"
"That would be because we lack space and budget."
"You lag the pack, seriously behind the rest of Canada." (and so forth)
As she winds down, I remark, "that's what voters get for electing one of those former pro athletes. Brain dead from all the hits, does little but sign whatever the big developers stick in front of his nose."
Jennifer pulls a face, "oh, you're only against sports because you hate men. No surprise there, seeing the luck you get."
I had meant it as half joke, half sad but true political comment. By now, no one else would believe that. Thankfully we're outa time.

Naomi has the intense look you'd expect on a USAF fighter pilot scrambling aloft in West Germany during Cold War days.
I look over the forest of paper. Hoping the Schadenfreude doesn't show up in my voice, I say quietly, "this is how much you owe," turn the calculator so she can see.
She goes ballistic, "I owe those g***** ***-****s $1,085.12!?!? Migod that's like ten times what I have in my bank account. I am in sooo deep s***!"
Again, hoping my tone sounds neutral, "they do negotiate payment arrangements. Best strategy is phone them before they phone you. Four to six months is easy to arrange. Beyond that, they get huffy."
"You g***** well are enjoying this! You are one first class sadist! You act like you're someone's friend, but always love seeing crap like this!"
(Actually only with her, not with anyone else.) I reply coolly, "last year you get my help. Next time, go to the volunteer program."
Ah ha, chalk up one point for the now more assertive me.
With Megan and Cindi it goes smoother. Both are relieved to discover they'll get small refunds, had feared they'd owe. They cheerfully take me to Starbucks to thank me.
There we run into a girl they know. By the time we all part, my attitude has changed a bit. That is ah well ah I'm not really so 100% certain that I'm 100% straight anymore. Say open-minded, curious.
I grin over the mountain of paper at my brother, "Murray, you owe $235.08."
He huffs and puffs, "what an outrageous country! Maybe it's time I made Aliyah."
"Grow up Murray, read even one iota on it. Their income taxes are far worse than ours. And how many pounds you gonna hafta sweat off in basic training before that armor fits?"
He pats his stomach, "ye-ah, guess I play too many computer games and eat too much pizza. Oh what the hay, two hundred is a bargain."
We both laugh.
Given he shares this three bedroom apartment with two other gamers, I imagine he's into serious excess. His eyes would be my first clue.
And that's to say nothing of the sixty or so empty pizza boxes teetering in the corner of the kitchen.
Oy, when do they ever clean? No wonder no one finds husbands anymore, all are staring at porn or games.
Just as I'm ready to leave, Nathan comes out of his room for a coffee refill. He asks Murray, "so, how'd it go?"
Murray shrugs, "I owe the b******s money, but no big deal. Nothing I can't take as a cash advance on my credit card to cover."
Nathan turns to me, over earnest tone, "I must admit, your eyes look well preserved."
"And why would they not?"
"Murray's told me what you really do at the library, Chief Censor on all those books."
Murray's look stops me from laughing. Ok, I'll play along, "oh yes, keeps me quite busy."
"First time I've ever heard em actually admit it. Sure glad I don't go there," with that, he rushes back to his game.
I don't laugh til the elevator door closes on me.

Sharon 5

After nervously quadruple-checking the arithmetic, I staple the myriad papers together, seal the envelope and hope for the best. It'll be a month before I find out from Revenue if I did it right. Still, I don't worry, most of the time I do.
Yeah, I know, you can go to those so-called professional tax preparers. They charge a lot and make a lotta mistakes, from what I hear from people.
And I happen to be low income enough I could qualify to get it done for free by the volunteer program. Now there is an exercise in masochism and time consumption. Open weekdays in the lobby of the Federal Building, you get one of those number tickets for your place in line. Count on being there most of the day.
And there are of course benefits in doing it yourself. Since you then understand the mechanism, you can play with math and answer the what-ifs. If I did this, what is the effect? What would be the effect of buying another $100 of RRSP (Registered Retirement Savings Plan) and so forth?
As I sip coffee, stare out the window, I reflect how ironic life really is. A half dozen so-called friends will descend upon me now, assuming I'm an expert and ask for help with their forms. Sad or what, me an expert? Still, I suppose everything is relative. In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is King.

Sharon 4

The counsellor steeples her fingers, takes a pedantic tone, "all right then, having heard the problem, I can suggest two possibilities. Once, you are so insecure, so lacking in self-esteem, that you send out signals. Any guy who has some big secret to hide, needs a girlfriend for cover, zeroes in on you."
"Ok, I can buy that, and the other possibility?"
"There is within you some deadly serious flaw, which drives people out to the edges of extremism."
"Now just a minute! Your score there is maybe one out of three. I'll grant you it's never been proven the smuggler did any smuggling prior to the one big offence. However, the time frame of the embezzlement has been clearly established in court. It started long before I met him. And as for the closet fairy, I now know he's been a bathhouse habitue since becoming the legal age to do so."
She smiles, "there, feel better now?"
I blush, realizing I've been had.
"Now go out there into the world, use a little bit more of that self-assertion and tell me about it on the second appointment."

Sharon 3

Call Display shows it's Naomi. For just a moment, I hesitate. When did she ever do anything but laugh at me or snoot me out?
But then, she does that stuff in person, doesn't bother to call. If it's a call, it's probably news.
I answer on the third ring, my hello coming across as too nervous.
In not even a smart ass tone, she asks, "have you read today's paper?"
"No, I only get it once a week, for TV listings."
"Hafta run right now, Sharon, but read it!!"
We-ell, there's been a fatal stabbing at the prison, drug smuggler BF doing the embezzler.
Our ever-looking-for-a-scandal-story reporter asked authorities if the dispute was over me.
The Warden's reply, "you never really know what people are thinking, in the background. However, one staff member and a half dozen inmates witnessed it. All have stated, under oath, that it was over refusal to give up a pingpong table in a timely manner."
I stare out the window, lost in thought, tires spinning but not finding traction.
And then it seems so obvious. There is now one roach less in the world. Another roach has absented himself from the outside world for a longer period of time. Hey, what's not to like about that?
Still, no more procrastination, dial Jewish Family Services today and book an appointment. And so I do.

Sharon 2

Megan and Cindi, two girls I knew in high school, walk in. They're a sight. Cindi has on a spiked dog collar, is led on a leash. Both are shaved bald, with a variety of facial piercings sporting safety pins. Both are in sweat suits with Rainbow Flag stripes.
Each gets a decadent pastry and one of those fancy coffees with lotsa whipped cream. But then, with the look they aim for, calories don't matter.
As the resta the place acts like they don't see them, I wave cheerfully. Two reasons. One, they're usually good for a chuckle. Two, with the mess I make of life, I have no right to judge others.
Megan flashes a wicked smile, "so Sharon, saw Saturday's paper?"
"Oh yes."
"Diss-gusting."
"Certainly was."
"Now you see Sharon, the gay guys have infiltrated the editorial staff at the paper. They use their inside influence to get lotsa publicity."
"I hardly think the riot is good for their cause."
She looks at me, evaluating, then smiles, "now if a lesbian had said that, I'd likely punch her in the nose. However, you being a straight, are entitled to a certain amount of bafflement. Let me clarify, there is no such thing as bad publicity. It all contributes to the visibility of their cause."
Cindi jumps in, "and the lesbians of course are soooo invisible," giggle, "with the exception of a few of us. Think of an analogy, Sharon. Gay is a glacier, ice and snow glittering in the sun. Lesbian is an iceberg, most of its weight invisible, under water."
"I'd never thought of that, but yes that seems accurate."
Cindi laughs, "and given your record in finding guys, don't you think it's about time you switched teams?"
"Nah, not my style. Maybe go become a hermit in the forest."
We all laugh.
Megan smiles uneasily, "ok now, I'm gonna do something I don't usually do. Friends are few and far between, I never like to risk losing one. Still, it must be said, for your own good."
I tense, sensing what's coming.
"Now if you were just a little bit less of a forbidding type person, you'd have heard and lots sooner. There's a reason no one told you, you have the reputation of shooting the messenger."
I ponder for a moment, then shrug, no point getting huffy, losing two friends. Quietly I reply, "I was already half ways to figgering that myself. So, I guess I should thank you. Ah, by the way, how many know of Mr Wonderful and his double life?"
"Probably every gay and lesbian in town plus half the straights. Count on getting laughed at, a lot."
"I ah well ah"
"Now you wouldn't know to spot faces, but the editor of the gay monthly was in that crowd. Rumor has it he's planning a headliner article on what happens when you get suddenly outed. Which of course wouldn't affect mosta those people."
I groan aloud.
"Still, look at it in perspective. It's not like his #1 goal is to embarrass you. His main message up on that soapbox is simply be gay openly and don't waste your own and everyone else's time. Purely by accident you get pride of place in the story, pardon the pun."
"I ah well ah"
Within a couple days, the Saturday paper is old hat. Ribald comments dry up.
With a good bit of tension and a shaking hand, I pull the free gay monthly outa the street box. Horrid, right there on the front page is my very own photo.
And yet, nothing happens. Days go by, a week then two, yet no one says anything.
So, what happened? My guess would be no one bothers with what the tedious editor might say on this or any other topic. The reason they like the paper is photos, of S&M night, the tattoo contest, the riot, drag night and so forth. Lotsa photo gazers, no real readers.

Sharon 1

I debate with myself, whether to dare show my face at Starbucks. Then I shrug, no point running or hiding from it.
Nervously I say, "grande, dark roast, room for cream please." It's only after I'm served I realize I had no need to panic, the staff don't know my name.
Thankfully, no one who knows me is here yet, gives me time to compose myself.
I groan when I see Naomi walk in, does it get any worse than that?
With a smug smart ass look, she sits at my table, "so, read Saturday's paper?"
I nod.
"Imagine that, sixteen pages of photos, they outdid themselves. But then they always did have a taste for the lurid. The big bathhouse riot, spilled out into the yard and even onto the street. So fierce it took water cannons to subdue it. Lot of arrests for D&D (Drunk and Disorderly). So ah, did you know that boyfriend of yours was a bathhouse habitue?"
I groan aloud, "news to me, it was."
In pedantic tone, she continues, "it has been my experience in life that genuine coincidences are few and far between. A random event is exactly that, singular. When the same thing happens three times in a row, it ain't random anymore."
I groan inwardly, here it comes.
"Now the BF before that was arrested for embezzling over a million dollars to feed his gambling addiction. And the one before him was arrested with twenty kilos of H at the airport. You do have a talent for picking lemons."
"I seem to recall your brother was on the list of those arrested at the riot."
"So what? Not like it was my boyfriend. Now, as I see it, you can take two possible interpretations. Wanna play ostrich? Then simply tell yourself that yes, you are still missing the target but not as badly. After all, gay D&D is less serious than embezzling, which in turn is less serious than smuggling drugs. Or, grab the bull by the horns, admit it's you who is the problem and go seek counselling at Jewish Family Services."
If anyone else had said this, I might be a little more open to it, but the Queen of Smartass?
She picks up her cup, walks away.
I sit there in a foul mood for a few minutes. But then, I cheer up. She's the worst, means the resta the comments get easier from here on in.