Long Weekend Audio: I Like Traffic Lights...

Thank Monty Python for the title.

Well! Aren't we the audio crankin' machines? We decided this one would have a different twist on it. We decided to take you, the loyal vomiteers, on a walk with us. We'd never done this before...and it kinda showed in the audio quality. Most of it is pretty listenable, but there are some parts where...ow ow ow ow ow! Stream+need to raise voice over traffic=clip clip clip clip! So...do not listen on headphones, I don't think so. We'll do better next time...namely, place Stream on left shoulder. By the way, Shane? How did you carry your stream on your routecasts? I need pointers. I tested it before leaving and it sounded fine. I forgot the part where I need to raise my voice to be heard over the traffic din.

We decided to demo an audible pedestrian signal, or the blind guy chirp chirp lights as lots of people know them. We thought we'd clear up some confusion, as well as show the differences between two types of chirp chirp lights. We also thought we'd drop into Tim Hortons just because it's nearby, and pick up a couple things at the store on the way home. We turned the recording off when we were in the store just because really? do you want to hear "I'll have a smoothie. Yes debit. chinga linga loo, thank you!"? That's boring.

We split this bad boy into two smaller parts. There's part 1, the trip to Timmie's, description of the lights and how blind people cross streets, talk about the new Tim Hortons bigger drink sizes, and other babble. You don't hear it, but Trix got called a cute dog by some random passer by. As we arrive at Tim Hortons, Steve asks again what constitutes a yogourtless smoothie? It has been written, but we felt like talking about it. That bit is about 23 minutes long.

In part 2, which lasts about 25 minutes, on our way home, we talked about how poor Steve got hit with a giant allergy attack, how we didn't get to ask what a yogourtless smoothie would look like, and how Steve thinks ice caps are disgusting. I happen to like them, but he thinks they're ick. This made us decide we would do our questions not as one cast, but as the mood struck us to talk...and it was time to talk about the differents between Canadian and American iced tea. And, since we were answering that question, we went in to the whole milk in a bag thing.

Because you can find everything on the internet, here's a history lesson on the milk bag, and a video explaining how to drink milk from a bag. The video isn't too blindy friendly, but it basically echos the description that we gave in the cast. I just thought it was funny that someone made a video about this.

I have also learned something. This milk in a bag thing only starts in Ontario and moves east. Westerners get mad if you accuse them of drinking milk in a bag. In describing the different sizes of milk cartons, I start singing Good Luck to the Barleymow. Now you can enjoy a much better version.

As we walk down the street yammering about milk bags, I have a question for folks who live in the UK that came up. I was talking to Torie on Twitter, and somehow crossing streets came up, and she said that over there, they have to wait for an all quiet, cross at a zebra crossing, hit a beep beep light, or wait for assistance. The idea of walking with the parallel traffic is not safe. Is this true across all of Ireland? Can other blind folks explain this? Frankly, the idea of not being able to go with the surge is about as weird to me as Americans find buying milk in a bag.

And we arrived home with our stuff, Trix drank furiously, and we signed off.

So, I hope you can enjoy this clippy cast. I apologize again for that. Hopefully we can learn and do better.

The Answer May Be Blowing In The Wind, But It's Not A Pen

An exchange happened a while ago between myself and a tech support chicky for Samsung that I still snicker about when I think about it.

I mentioned my friend and his phone saga in another long and winding post. Anyway, as part of his phone saga, we were trying to make it so it made beep noises when you pushed buttons, and those regular touch tone noises you expect when you're dialing. We called Wind tech support, but really they had no idea. They did end the call in a rather disturbing way. These were the tech support guy's exact words. "With Wind, the conversation never ends." Hi, dude? You're tech support. I don't want to have an unending call with tech support. I would like my problem fixed, thankyaverymuch.

Anyway, he realized my questions were beyond his scope, so gave me the number for Samsung tech support.

After talking to a girl for a while about the problems we were having, i.e. a blind person even operating this phone was next to impossible, she started telling me settings to change. Unfortunately for me, I couldn't find someone to help me, and the computer I could have used just crashed and was slow to reboot. So, she said she would write all this down and all I'd have to do was say a confirmation number when I had somebody available who could see to push the necessary buttons. I asked her how long the confirmation number was, because I had nothing to write it down with, and she said it was something like 12 digits long. I was wondering if she'd mind if we waited a minute to load up the computer and she said "Just grab a pen!" I tried to explain to her that this wouldn't work and she got frustrated with me. "Ma'am, just let me finish. If you let me finish, you will see that my plan will work," she said. I shook my head and let her finish. "Ma'am, just get a pen, and write down what I tell you. I'll tell you how to write the numbers and then you'll have it."

I took 3 deep breaths before I answered her.

I said, a. if I've never written anything but my name, how will I know if what I'm writing down is correct, and b. what good is it to me anyway? I can't read it." It took her a second and then she apologized profusely. "I thought you could see before," she said.

Um, nope. And let's follow this logic to its end. If I could see, why would you have to describe how to write each number? I would know how to write a 3, a 6, an 8, etc. Even if I could see, that doesn't solve problem b. I know I'd need someone around who could see to change the settings, so I guess she thought I could hand them the sheet and then off we'd go. But still, I can't see what I'm doing, so I have no idea whether I'm writing down the right things that this poor sighted person is supposed to read.

The point is if I tell you that grabbing a pen isn't going to work, it probably isn't. I kind of know what I can and can't do over here. It's kind of like saying to someone in a wheelchair, "Just climb those steps." or "I'll push you." If they're saying no, there's probably a good reason.

I just had to write that down, because it cracked me up how hard she was trying to get me to write with a pen. I'm sure she went home with a story to tell. Hopefully she will have learned something.

What Should You Do?

This video that came from a show called "What Would You Do?" has been floating around in my head for a while. Basically the show thinks of situations that make people feel all kinds of uncomfortable, then gets actors to play them out and watches what passing Joe Blows do about what's happening. The subject of this one is what would you do if you saw someone belittling or harassing someone in a wheelchair? For the most part, it's awesome because it points out stupid, annoying and downright unhelpful things people do all the time to people with all different types of disabilities. Believe it or not, people really do pet people's heads, try to push people's power wheelchairs, talk to them like they're 2, and invade their personal space. Plus it's good to watch ordinary joes being all eeewww, stop that!

But I'm conflicted about one point in the video. Often times, people would talk amongst themselves, and then, without talking to the person in the wheelchair, chew a strip off the "harasser". Hmmm. Shouldn't you check with the one in the chair first before deciding to act on their behalf? Isn't speaking for them making you just as offensive as the one you're offended by? I mean, the harasser wasn't mugging or beating up the person in the chair. They were just being clingy/obnoxious.

I'm not saying don't act. I love it when someone sees something wrong, and comes to help. All I'm saying is involve the person you're trying to help. Ask if this person is bothering them. Let them say yes or no before you take on the harasser.

I'll give you 3 examples so maybe you can understand what the hell I'm on about. Example 1, which I've talked about before in another post. I got in a cab, the cabby asked me to put Trix on the floor. I said no prob. Someone was offended that he told me where to put Trix, and before talking to me, called the cab company and said who knows what about the driver. He got written up, and actually came back to my door and told me what happened. This scared the everlovin' hell out of me because I didn't know why this cabby was at my door. He was begging for me to straighten out the story, but who knows what intentions he could have had. And this person had ways of contacting me. She was a store employee who had my phone number. So, because they didn't check with me, she got this poor cab-driver in trouble, and left me cleaning up a situation.

Example 2. I had Trix out on the lawn, and came across a guy in my building. We started talking for a while. Unknown to me, another guy from my building walked up beside us and stared down the other guy until he left. He then told me he didn't like how long this guy was talking to me and thought he was up to no good. We were just talking! There was nothing scary going on at all.

Example 3: One time, Steve and I got on a bus, and a fellow passenger yelled at the bus driver every time he used the word look or see when talking to us. "Lou, Lou! Don't use the word look, Lou! Looouuuu!" It got to the point that we told Lou not to worry. It was all good.

I hope that these examples help to explain why just acting without checking with the person, unless of course they're in obvious danger, can be a bad idea. I like helpful people, and it gives me hope that maybe more people realize this stuff is ridiculous, so maybe this stuff will start happening less. But please, check with us first. Otherwise, it means you don't think we're a person either.

And just because I heard about this other video, here's another reason why it's hard for people with disabilities to get jobs. Here's a scary real world response to discrimination against a job applicant who is deaf.

Observations, Updates, And Other Goofiness

Here comes another giant pile of thoughts.

The other day, the oldies radio station was on and The Poppy Family That's Where I Went Wrong came on. And, unbidden, my only thought that came out loud and clear was "oh that poor bus stranger!" At that point I just started laughing. I didn't feel one bit of pity for the woman in the song...I just wanted her to shut up. Yes, go to sleep and forget him for a while. Then maybe that poor fellow who randomly selected the seat beside her can get some peace for god's sake!

Maybe that's because I've been that poor bus stranger, and we probably all have. You sit down, someone plunks beside you, and suddenly you hear their every tale of woe they have. Don't get me wrong, I've had lots of awesome conversations with seat mates on buses. But sometimes, oh lordy. I don't remember if I ever wrote about the time I had to pretty much babysit a fellow passenger, but that was an instance of me being a poor bus stranger. I was glad I did it, but oh man. I think experiences like that turned that song on its head for me. The thing is I've thought it I don't know how many times on a subconscious level, but this week, it came out loud and clear.

For some reason, one day I said something to Steve about "way down yonder in the Paw-paw patch." Then I immediately wondered "what the heck's a paw-paw? I guess it's a kind of apple, but it's funny how we just sing stuff and have no idea where it came from.

Last Wednesday I had an, um, interesting afternoon. Apparently my parking lot at work can get pretty ugly as hell in the winter, so the guy who drives me to work thought it would be good to get one of those accessible parking passes. At first I wasn't sure if I felt right about it since I thought most people who use them have actual physical injuries or lung problems that prevent them from physically walking from A to B. But now that I think about it, knowing we could always park in the same spot would mean it would help my orientation. I could probably walk from car to door on my own, which would be pretty awesome. Plus, it would reduce the amount of time I'd be mucking around in the parking lot amid people who potentially aren't the best drivers in the world.

So I decided to get one, and I have learned one thing for sure. The doctors I asked about this thing had no clue about it. I had to see the doctor I'm a not so huge fan of, and he scribbled down a note and told me to take it to City Hall. City Hall? How about no? This is done by the province I'm pretty sure. At that point he said he hadn't a clue how it worked.

So I went to a new walk-in clinic we have, which makes me happy as hell that we have another clinic, and it's being well-used. But the doctor there couldnt' figure out what category I fit under, even though there's a box for visual acuity. That'd be me. But he did the form, and all is right with the world. I have a pass, and will have a permanent one soon.

But that afternoon's travels were full of crazy loopy things that kept happening to me. First up, as I entered the clinic, I ran smack into a chick who was desperately afraid of dogs. I mean she started hyperventilating and totally freaking out. I felt horrible because I had nowhere to go. We were squished into a tiny space between two doors.

But she made me roll my eyes when I was finished at the clinic and went to leave. She was still there, and sat right by the door, ya know, the exit door. So as I approached it, she started freaking out again! Hello lady, I have to go that way. If you're so afraid of dogs, move the hell away from the door! You've been warned!

On my way down to the clinic, Trix had to go poop. I picked it up, but had no idea where a garbage can was. So there I was with a bag of poop in my pocket. Total suck. But I had to chuckle as kid after kid was rushed into the bathroom at the clinic. I think the parents thought *their* kids were causing the stench! Although I was embarrassed about having a bag of dog doo, I couldn't help but snicker.

And in my final piece of adventures from that day, I went into the grocery store in that plaza. It used to be called Price Chopper, now it's Fresh Co. Whatever. I went in to buy two things. Seriously, two items. The girl helped me, and then said she talked to her manager and her manager said I really should call ahead if I'm going to want help.

I'm sorry, did I have a list as long as my arm? No. I wanted to buy two items. I do not think I have to call ahead for something that small. Hell, I pick up more things at a convenience store than that. I would totally call ahead if I was getting a whole heap of things and needed an escort around the store. But two things? Seriously?

They have kind of been difficult from time to time, constantly asking "are you done yet?" when I've had 4 things on my list, but this was pretty offensive. In future, I'll probably just avoid that store. If I'm such a burden, they can do without my business.

But on a happier note, there's a Tim Hortons that opened up pretty close to our house. Oh baby. I see danger on the horizon. Resist the urge for Timmie's! The girl was really nice there, although when I said I was blind and couldn't find the Tim's, she didn't think I literally meant blind. Oh boy, she's going to have stories when she gets home. I kind of feel bad for getting a little annoyed with her, but there were no pedestrians on that stretch of sidewalk, so I called the place, told her I was blind and her immediate response was "Well can't you see the sign?" Poor girl, she felt really sheepish after that. So the moral of the story, people, is never assume the person telling you they're blind is speaking in metaphor. Chances are they *are* blind. Or do more people just say "I'm blind" when they say they're lost? Am I just oblivious?

And in another piece of happy news, my ailing Trekker is on its way back to the land of the living!

Here's the scoop. I finally went to a store that had the means to voltage test the charger. Then, to my shock and horror, they said the charger was fine. We eventually deduced that it was that piece on the end of the splitter that started breaking so long ago. So, because of that series of things, and the three-way splitter mess, I was hesitant to call up Humanware and ask for any more parts. So I tried charging the PDA using my sync cable. But because the battery had drained so low, when it asked for power, my computer said it was asking for too much power and would not allow. It did this on a couple of machines. At least I'm hoping that's what the problem is.

Well, with the buses completely changing routes in January, I was getting desperate. I've come to realize that that piece is likely only sold by Humanware. So I bought a new one. But it wasn't $60 like the guy claimed, it was $35. You'd think sales reps in Humanware could get their facts straight. Let's hope when it arrives, it's the right part. But if it is, at the end of the day, my Trekker should be back in business.

I think that's about it for now at least in this post. I have other ideas that's for sure.

Life, #Twittereen, #Movember, And Other Things

Hi there. It's me, ya know, the absentee blogger. I haven't really had much to say in the last little while. Not on email, not on Twitter, not on the blog, not anywhere. But that's ok. I'm surviving, that's what matters. I'm surviving, and attempting to expand this very little brain. By consequence, when I do talk, I ramble, and ramble, and ramble some more.

The job is still going well...although I'm constantly afraid I'm not moving fast enough. Everyone keeps telling me not to worry. All of this worry is completely self-inflicted. I'll get over it, I swear. But I have learned my way around my floor pretty well, which is friggin liberating. Too bad I get to learn a new floor in a couple weeks. But hopefully they can help me by telling me that my new destination is just under some old destination that I know. At least I have points of reference, which is awesome. And I have very patient, awesome coworkers.

Hmmm. More updates. I did not win that iPod in the Twittereen contest, but Steve and I did win *something*. Remember that ice cream/waffle place I was talking about? Well, a bunch of us won a waffle stack! This is awesome, because we can probably coordinate rides and all go together, which means Steve and I have a chance in hell of getting to this place in Cambridge. YeaWaffle Stacks!

But even if I didn't win an iPod, work has lent me one so I can learn how to use it. And amazingly, I'm making some pretty good progress. I managed to write the sentence "This is a test" on the touchscreen keyboard, which to me is a pretty good feat. Soon I will have mastered iThings, mwa ha ha ha ha. But I couldn't have done it without my fellow iThing users helping me out over Twitter. I'm sure people thought there were perverted things going on, what with all this talk of flicking, scrubbing, finger-twisting and other stuff. No really, I'm just trying to use my iPod!

Jennison, a blind guy I know, wrote a tweet that I think is very very true. It read: "One of the true tests of trust when you can't see is when you have to find a new barber." I would like to add another test of trust. Going to the shoe store. Here's why.

A while back I started to notice that my poor old running shoes were starting to bite the big one. Then I noticed there were holes under other holes. Um, eek? This is getting pretty bad. So, I headed out to the Shoeper Store. I wanted to buy a pair of running shoes. Simple running shoes that could fit my orthotics and were comfy and wouldn't make me look like a child.

I told the girl at the store my needs, and she trotted off and came back with a pair of shoes. All she said was "How do you feel about grey and blue?" Since I told her I wanted plain and simple, I thought hmmm maybe it'll be a dark blue with a grey stripe on them. I said ok. I put the shoes on, and damn did they feel good! They fit my orthotics too, so I was double happy.

I came home, wore them around with the tags still on, and thought I think I'm satisfied. But now I have learned a very valuable lesson. Next time, I must wear the shoes, with the tags on, down to someone possessing functioning eyes and good taste. Here's why.

I cut the tags off, triumphant that I had a new pair of shoes. Awesome! And I headed downstairs with the Trixter, at which point I ran into the huppy's dad. "New shoes?" he asked. "They must be new, I mean, they shine so much!" Excuuuuse me? Shine? I asked him to elaborate. It was then that I learned that the blue was not dark, but bright, electric, in fact. It was so attention-grabbing that they were the first things he noticed.

Oh dear dear. Now, for the foreseeable future, I must wear these stupid shoes. I don't even want to have mom and dad see them, because they probably look butt ugly. Maybe they'd be ok if I were a teenager doing some kind of jogging through the woods or something, but that was not what I was going for.

So, sighties, if someone asked you for a plain, simple shoe, would electric blue honestly fit in? Would it not cross your mind to tell me the shade of blue? I knew I should have been worried when her next words were, "Or, how do you feel about purple?" Purple shoes? I reflexively said no when she said purple, but that should have been a great big warning sign. If I'd only left the tags on, I could have taken them back to the store and gotten another pair. I wanted white, maybe black. Nothing crazy like, oh, say, electric blue that draws your attention immediately on sight.

I kind of feel betrayed that this lady sold me electric blue shoes and didn't tell me. I don't always have sighted folks to bring along when I need a pair of shoes, and I'm putting a hell of a lot of trust in the salesperson to listen to what I'm asking for and find something accordingly. I mean, I can't see the shoes. They do feel good, which I guess should be the most important thing, but I'm sure I could have found a pair of white runners that were still comfortable. But now, since I cut the tags off, these electric blue shiny things will be what I wear for the foreseeable future. Maybe I should take a picture of the damn things and put it up.

It's November, or should I say Movember. I swear, this whole Movember thing has gone and pulled a Google in the brain-invasion department. I knew of its existence last year, and I sort of understood what it was all about, but this year, it is everywhere. Granted, I'm seeing a lot more of it on Twitter, but it appears it's really taken off! It's been so everywhere that I dreamed that Steve decided to grow a mo, and was so pissed that he was having so much trouble. I woke up chuckling.

This whole thing of it taking off like crazy is simultaneously great and bad. I think it's great that so many men are getting involved in promoting men's health and raising money for the cause. But it's bad for me! I know so many guys doing it that how on earth do I choose who to donate to? I can't possibly donate to every dude I know sporting a mo for Movember, I'll go broke!

So, I'll do the next best thing, I'll suggest a bunch of people I know who are doing the Movember thing. If you feel moved to do it, toss 'em a few bucks. I donated to this guy, he's one of those awesome colleagues I keep talking about. But work has a whole honkin' team, so there's another way to go at it. Look at that! 63 people doing the Movember thing!

But I know people outside of work who are doing this too. There's our buddy Sean Yo, at least I think it's him, so if you're one of his honeybunches, throw him some dough. Then there's Joel, who saved my butt the first week of work and gave me a ride on the first day. I will always be a biiig fan of Joel for allowing me to, um, get to work on my first day, so he's always a good guy to donate to.

Next up are two guys whose pages I can't find, but would love to. Hey peoples, not everybody can see pictures, so DO NOT USE YOUR PROFILE PICTURE AS YOUR SOLE WAY OF IDENTIFYING YOURSELF. Please please please give me something else to grab onto. Anything. For example, if you're Cam Guthrie, say you're a Guelph city councilor. If you're Dan Gillis, maybe mention where you work or something. Give me something! Unfortunately, you're not the only one with your name, and even if you were, how can I be sure I've got the right dude? I'm about to donate, I'd like to know I'm donating to the right guy.

So as soon as I find those guys' pages, I'll link to them, and then if you feel so inclined, huck them some dough. Good luck everybody doing the Movember thing.

Last Friday, the Guelph Community Foundation was promoting Random Act of Kindness day. On one level, I think it's a really sweet idea. But on the other, I have to wonder. Do we need a day? Can't we just see something and do it? Is it really that hard? And do we need to be given a cookie for doing a good deed? It always bugs me when someone who's giving me a little bit of help says "Ah, I've done my good deed for the day." I'm sure they're just joking, but it always makes me feel just a wee bit like they want a medal or something.

Speaking of cookies, is it wrong that when I saw that one of my Twitter buddies was handing out cookies at a bus terminal, I couldn't help but think "If I received a cookie randomly, would I eat it? Wouldn't Random Acts of Kindness Day be the most perfect coverup to poison random people if you're that kind of person?" Then another part of me slapped myself hard for being so synical. But I still wonder if I would eat a random cookie given to me by a random stranger. But then again, I accept help from random strangers all the time. What's the difference between accepting help and a cookie? I think my brain just exploded.

And another thing that made my brain explode was I saw that Guelph Transit was giving out $20 bus passes with the following instruction "If you get one of these, pass it on!" So, does anyone ever actually use the things? Or do they just keep getting passed around?

I did a couple of random acts of kindness, but sadly neither of them fell on Random Acts of Kindness Day. A bunch of seniors got on the bus I was on and asked if this was the right bus to get them to a certain church. The driver had no clue, and didn't really try to figure it out. So I picked up my phone, looked up information and found them an address. Once I gave that to the driver, she knew exactly where it was and told them they were on the right bus. I didn't do it because it was Random Acts of Kindness Day, I did it because I felt it was the right thing to do, and I felt really good about helping some folks out.

Another time, I found out a friend of mine had a really shitty birthday and said "Oh if only I had some cupcakes!" She didn't know where there was a place near her that had them, so I googled out a shop that would deliver, found a delivery service, and she got some cupcakes delivered to her house a couple days later, which I paid for. I didn't need a bracelet or a card to do it. I did it because I wanted to give her a smile and it made me feel good. Isn't that all the motivation we need?

I guess if it brightens someone's day, then that's all that matters. But wouldn't it be great to move to a kind of community where people did little things for each other all the time just because?

I've noticed something as I follow more people on Twitter. Some of them appear to spend most of their time tweeting about tweeting. Seriously. I guess if thinking about thinking is called metacognition, would this be metatweeting? Don't get me wrong, a little is fine, but these people do it all the time! They tweet about tweetups, effective tweeting, social media conferences, and they hella retweet, but they don't seem to say much of their own...and they have scads of followers! How does that work? I don't get it. I've actually unfollowed a couple of them because I just spend more time skimming their tweets. What am I missing? Somebody help me.

And I think that's about it for now. I'm afraid this will be the trend. Long silences followed by barrages nobody will finish reading. Hope somebody enjoyed this.

Updates, Random Thoughts, And Assorted Stuff

I guess I should probably update folks, since last Saturday I was all full of "help me! Help me!"

I have myself a steady ride! Yeah baby! It's hard to explain how stressful it is wondering if you'll have rides to work, or wondering which days you should say you're available based on who says they can drive you, along with getting used to the new job and everything. I kept picturing those primitive hunter-gatherers, foraging, hoping that if they just looked in the right places, they'd find the jackpot that would keep everybody fed for the next little while. Sure I wasn't hunting for food, but it was sort of the same feeling of stress. Will I have rides for the next week? Where should I look next? When? In what bit of spare time should I start hunting again? What group of people should I ask next who might be a good resource?

Luckily, I have awesome coworkers who were totally flexible and willing to work with me, which took the stress down several notches. Then, one of them helped me find my ride, and for that, I will be eternally grateful.

This job is totally going to rock my socks off. There is a boat load of stuff to do, but it all has the potential for awesome all over it. Plus, the people I work with are all kinds of amazing. I just hope I can do everything they're looking for. I know one thing. I'm going to learn a whole lot of cool things.

I get impressed by simple things. I made Steve laugh when I came home from work and said "Steve, come here! Look at this! It's a card that opens doors!" I know that doesn't sound like much, but whenever I would do stuff for them before, I would have a visitor's pass that didn't have any door-opening power. Don't get me wrong, I didn't need it since there was always someone going with me to meetings etc. so it was no big deal. But now I'm officially one of the crew! Yeah, I know, I'm a goof.

I still come home tired, but I'm sure that will get easier. But until I can zoom about the office without having to concentrate uber hard, I'll probably be a little brain squishy. Oh well, it means my brain is getting a workout. Thankfully Steve's helping me out a bunch. He makes my lunches and stuff. That sounds like a small thing, but it's appreciated.

I think my coworkers must think I'm weird. As they're showing me how to get from a to b to c, I'll mutter to myself about "There's that buzzing thing again. Where should the buzzing thing be?" No, I'm not crazy. I'm trying to use whatever is buzzing as some kind of orientation clue. If I can remember which way the buzzing thing should go, that will tell me later that I'm on the right track. Then I found out the buzzing thing isn't always on! Damn it!

Trix is getting familiar with the place too. She's funny. She basically knows how to find my desk and the lunch room. The funny part is she can find the lunch room on the way to lunch, which involves navigating this snakey crazy turny section of the hall. But when I come back through, she always goes straight and doesn't try to automatically do the turns to get back to the desk. I can only guess that we have gone a couple of directions after lunch a few times, so she just thinks "duh...boss, I don't know where you want me to go, so I'll just go straight." Oh well, that's why we'll get a couple lessons on how to get around, so I'll know those finer points. But I might need a couple more lessons later on, since we're apparently moving to another floor of the building in a month or so. Ah well, it's all good.

There isn't much else new, I'm just getting used to all this new jobby stuff. Wish me luck, this is a pretty huuuuge opportunity. I hope I don't mess it up. And some day soon, I will have enough brain cells left to write stuff for here again on a more regular basis.

Long Weekend Audio: Making Laytons

We said we weren't done with audio. Here comes some more.

A little while ago, I mentioned that Jack Layton had died. So, later, I learned that someone had created a drink in his honour. So, Steve made one of these, and we talked about it. Believe it or not we talked about it for 27 minutes. It, and other stuff, but hey, that comes with the territory, doesn't it? Hope you enjoy. It looks like Steve's diggin' the Layton.

Oh No! Sighties Are Trying To Go Stealth!

I remember back a while ago, we had a commenter named Joe Clark who would get all mad if we made a gay joke. "Oh, but if they made a blind joke, you wouldn't be laughing, now would you?" I will answer him by linking to this. And I'm laughing. I'm laughing, and hoping that I'm not one of those irritating blind people he's trying to avoid. But I certainly know we have our fair share of irritating blind folks. Hell, I've tried to sneak past a few of 'em if I could. If I knew the place well, I'd stop using my cane for a few steps and move o so quietly around them. So ha, we do it too!

but at least now if a bunch of unusually-named people start sprouting ordinary names, or my friends learn how to speak with a foreign accent or keep changing their perfume or shoes, I'll know I'm irritating. Maybe I'll be able to learn.

Warning: comments have a captcha. But I used WebVisum just so I could tell him it was funny, and set a few people straight that we use the internet and Narrator is not our primary screen reading solution. Oy!

Weee! It's A Flying Blind Guy!

After we wrote about Wess and Ian's blind guy stories, our buddy Martin emailed me with a gem of his own. I have to put it up because when I read it, I began to laugh and laugh and laugh, to the point that I couldn't tell Steve what I was on about and I had to let JAWS read it.

True story.

A guy I knew from New Brunswick (Saint John to be exact) was plodding up to a street corner and he stopped to get his bearings.  Two guys walked up on each side of him, lifted him off the ground and carried him across the street.  Bob thanked them and added that he did not really want to cross to this side, where they promptly picked him up and returned him to the original side of the street.  While Bob was relating this story to me, I just about broke my back laughing.

I did too, and so did Steve. Well the guys got their good deed of the day, and lots of extra exercise! Good on poor Bob for not freaking out as he was being hoisted through the air. I don't think I could do so well.

You know, it's amazing that didn't happen to me more in the pre-dog days. I think now they wouldn't dare because they'd have to pick up a dog too, but I'm kind of small and light. Hell, I think Steve can pick me up with one arm.

Damn, that's a gooder.

The Manual Gets Some Editions From People Other Than Us

I just realized that I haven't updated the blind guy user's manual in a bit. I don't have any new blind guy stories, but boy do some others.

Wes Derby wrote about this woman who just had to grab and drag him onto his bus. This woman has been told multiple times that her brand of help is not helpful, and could actually injure him, but she won't listen because, wait for it, she knows what's best for him and the rest of the line of passengers. Ug. I feel for him, knowing each time he goes to catch the bus, she could be there and he won't know until he is being unceremoniously manhandled and dragged the way she has decided he should go today.

He was talking about it on Twitter, and it made me think of Ian Hamilton, a Scottish journalist who is blind and writes lots of funny columns about being blind and the stuff he encounters. I was looking for the column in which he describes being physically lifted onto bus steps, but I can't find it. What I did find was a whole blog full of things he has noticed. Read it if you're blind, you'll probably laugh. Read it if you're sighted. You'll probably either chuckle, learn something, or both.

I wish I had a personal story to end this with, but happily I don't. I can't think of anything weird that's happened to me lately, and this is a good thing.

Good luck with the crazy on the bus, Wes.

The Cozycast Is Finally Here!

Sorry this is going up so late, and sorry for the general neglect of this place over the last little while. Laziness, busyness, illness, hung overness and going out and having funness haven't made for the best of reading lately. Hopefully things can start getting back to normal soon, but to hold you over until that happens, have this.

About a year ago, Carin won a homemade blanket from Ro in a contest. At long last, that blanket and a bonus gift arrived at our door on Friday. So Saturday night, as we promised we would, we hit record and opened it. We also opened some drinks and managed to turn a simple blanket unboxing into a couple hours of fun and stupidity. Don't worry, it's split into 3 parts in order to make things easier for everybody.

I was going to write up detailed show notes with links to all the stuff we talked about, but to be honest, I'm so not feelin' that right now. If you're curious enough about something to want to know more, just ask. There are lots of ways to ask.

Part 1runs about 32 minutes. Topics include but are probably not limited to why we're here, Carin's dog difficulties, how the hell UPS works, why Steve doesn't track packages, the usage of tweeps and words like it including calling a specific person out on the problem she doesn't want to admit she has, why we both almost didn't get on Twitter, why Maggie Laidlaw sucks now and a bit of Guelph city politics, the blog is moving, new slogans and political ads.

Part 2clocks in at 49 minutes. Carin explains the contest and we open the box. Then things go wrong. Actually things kind of go wrong before the box is even open, but that's just because I'm an asshole and enjoy tasteless jokes. There's also some other random talk including religious douchebags on Twitter and things that annoy us about them and religion in general, replacing the C word with a K word, 1000 Ways To die, a horrible injury, the KNFB reader, why technology isn't perfect and an epic fail.

Part 3,AKA the part we didn't think we'd have. the KNFB unbroke within about 3 minutes of us signing off, so we hit record again and did the colour identifying thing. We also talk about why it's kinda dangerous for blind people to wear winter hats, things sighted people do to the blind, blind people who don't represent us well, people who can't text and a couple of huppy stories. We went about 52 minutes here, or about 20 or so minutes longer than perhaps we should have. Ah well, can't win 'em all. Still sorta neat if you've never seen a KNFB reader or a phone that can recognize colours. Besides, a bunch of this was done mainly for a few people so as long as they enjoyed it, I'm ok with that.

Happy downloading.

Got My New Passport And Learned Some Things

Wow. I can't believe I started looking into this whole passport process back in September. Well, I have good news and bad news on that front. The good news is I must have filled out the form correctly, because I have a shiny new passport. It arrived while I was home with the family. The bad news is at the very end of the process, I got ripped off by Canada Post, at least I feel that way.

So, I got my passport photos taken. If I'd have been smart, I would have just gotten the photo guy to help me sign and date the sucker, and cut off the little piece that has my credit card info. But I didn't know how much I trusted a random dude to look at my credit card numbers and stuff. Plus, he looked kinda busy. So I thought I had to go to the post office anyway, I can just get them to put the date into a few places, and help me sign so I don't go off the sides of the box, and cut off that piece of the form with my credit card info on it.

When I asked them if they could do those things, they told me they could, but it would cost me $20. $20 extra? Are you serious? For something I could have gotten a friend to do if they'd been handy? Feeling like I was pretty low on options, I paid the stupid extra $20, even though I wished I'd had another choice.

On the bright side, although this woman was the snippiest woman I'd met in a long time, she cut a piece of cardboard out so I wouldn't go over the lines. Some people aren't that smart.

But seriously, $20 for that? Most people, if they ask for the Post Office to look over their application and pay $20, they actually want them to look through it to make sure it's all complete. I just wanted them to write the date in a few places and make sure I didn't go over the sides of their little white box.

To top it all off, at the very end of being made to feel like I was the stupidest person on the planet, the snippy passport woman reached across, batted at my wrist that had my watch and said "Hey, what good is one of those to ya if ya can't see?" I finally figured out she was referring to my watch. After I recovered from being conflicted as to whether she was trying to discover that I in fact could see, or whether she was just that big of an ignoramus, I told her I can pop open the lid and feel the bumps.

So, needless to say, I left feeling quite a bit less than impressed. Also needless to say, I won't come back to the post office for help in signing and dating my passport application in five years when the time comes. What an irony that I was able to fill out the whole application, and then got screwed when I just needed a wee bit of help.

It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas Posts

I'm sitting here and I can hardly believe it's exactly two weeks before Christmas. How in hell did I get here and how did it happen so fast? I agree with Steve that it doesn't seem possible that it's already Christmas again. In fact, when I try and think of things I've gotten people, I can't remember if I got them that one or two Christmases ago. That's just scary.

I'm happy to say that I'm almost done getting everything, which is freaking amazing since I had hardly anything bought last Saturday. I just have to get stuff for a couple of people and I'll be all done. I'm only expecting a few packages in the mail, so I don't have too much of that oh my god is it going to make it feeling going on, so that's nice.

I'm still wrestling with the usual question of What to get Trix's raisers. The first couple of years I was quite pleased with myself. This was great, but it's a hard act to follow. Last year, I was only moderately pleased, but I could take comfort in the idea that they did get to actually see her live and in person. This year I really don't know what to do. I might just get mom to take a really good picture of Trixie in the snow and maybe send it in a nice card. What I care most about is that they get pictures of Trix so they can know she's well. I can't imagine not hearing word 1 about how that beautiful pup you raised is doing, and I know it happens. I feel bad that I don't email more, but my life is pretty boring. All I'd be doing was repeatedly saying "All's good, same old crap is going on. What about you?" I guess that's ok, but not more than once every few months. Maybe they cruise by here every so often. That would be kinda cool...so long as they can handle reading stories about drunks and pervs along the way.

I spent a whole bunch of time at the mall last week, and I was pleasantly surprised by two things. The mall zombi count was way lower. A lot of the people I ran into still were using their brains, weren't bowling over their fellow pedestrians, and could, for the most part, answer the questions I asked them. But what I was really impressed by was Guest Services at the mall.

I had bought something for the huppy for Christmas, and I decided I wanted to have it wrapped, just so I could watch him rip it open. I knew there was a booth at the mall where people wrapped stuff in exchange for donations to the food bank. Sounds like a pretty cool fit. But the problem was I didn't have any cash on me, and I'm sure I couldn't pay debit for a donation.

I could have gone downtown, gotten off the bus, gone to the bank, and waited for the next bus, but I just didn't want to. The bus that pulled into downtown went to the mall after, so I really didn't want to get off that bus. I knew there was a Bank of Montreal really near the mall, if not in the parking lot, and their machines talked. I thought I remembered, unfortunately, that the bank machine that's right *in* the mall was a private one, of the non-talkin' kind.

So I thought hey, Stone Road Mall has a guest services centre where you can buy gift cards and such and borrow wheelchairs and all that good stuff. I'll call them and just ask if that machine is private or what. If it is, then I'll just ask passers by for directions to the Bank of Montreal and flub my way there. Me and flubbing seem to go hand in hand.

But the folks at guest services impressed the pants off of me! I asked about the machine, and they said that it was private, but there was a BMO or Bank of Montreal right there. I asked if you could get to the BMO from inside the mall, and they said no. I asked for some directions, and said I was blind. By the end of the conversation, they told me to just walk into Guest Services and someone would escort me to the BMO and back! Um, how cool is that?! They did, and that made my day one hell of a lot easier. So, if you need something at the mall, don't hesitate to call Guest Services. They really do try to help.

One thing I saw at the mall that was quite disturbing was something they were selling at Hallmark. I went in there to get something to just sort of top off another gift, and a very patient woman was showing me lots of stuff. As we walked down an aisle, something yelled at me. I didn't really care, but we stayed in that aisle a while, and I was listening to what it was saying. At one point, it said "Are you ok? You're looking a little flushed! Get it? Flushed?" Then it said "Ho, ho, ho, who's gotta go? Ho, ho, ho, who's gotta go? I'm in your bathroom, don't mind me. I'm here to keep you company."

It was then that I realized that this was some kind of demonic santa decoration designed to sit in someone's bathroom and talk to the occupants! Eeewww! Can you imagine going over to your friend's house for Christmas, going to take a pee, and being greeted by that thing? It's one thing when someone's floor mat sings to you, or there's something in their living room that's motion-sensitive. That is at most annoying. But nothing should goddamn talk to me while I'm in the bathroom, especially nothing with a face! I think I could handle a talking urinal cake after the startle was over, but I don't want something looking at me, singing to me. Nooo!

I must be alone in this thought process, though, because the nice Hallmark lady told me that they're selling quite a lot of those! Ug! She kept laughing at my reaction of "Just shut up!" and "I'm going to step over here so it can't see me anymore!"

I was so disturbed by its constant need to chirp up that I actually stepped out of its range of view. If that was in a friend's bathroom, I'd be so tempted to remove its batteries. Gross!

One thing that continues to make me laugh is how many people tell me "The store's right there, you can't miss it! It has a big sign!" This happens after either they can see me standing their with a guide dog, or I've phoned somewhere and just told them that I'm blind, so need as much information about finding their place as possible. I will have seriously just finished saying "I'm blind, so I need to know exactly which street I have to cross when getting off the bus," and they'll respond with "Oh you'll know where to go, there's a big sign right there." When this happens, I have taken to stopping, letting about 3 seconds of silence go by, and then starting my sentence over. Usually they realize just how stupid that was, and give me better information.

I think the funniest instance of that was when I called City Hall once and asked them if there was a safe, construction-free route from the bus to City Hall that a blind pedestrian could use. The next sentence I heard was "Are you driving?"

This means that all she heard out of my whole sentence was "construction" and "City Hall." I was so shocked with how little actually processed that I had to pause so I didn't start laughing. When I said "As a blind pedestrian" she realized and probably felt a little slow.

Part of me felt bad about that one, because I thought maybe there was a bunch of noise and she legitimately couldn't hear me. But I have seen people do it who are standing right next to me, can see the dog, and they still tell me how I can't possibly miss that giant store. Oh I can miss it. I can so totally miss it. You have no idea.

I can't say I feel nearly as down about Christmas as Steve does, but I understand where he's coming from, and I do wish we could spend Christmas together. It doesn't feel right on Christmas morning when all we can do is call or text each other. Hopefully we can start making plans to fix things. That'll probably have to start next Christmas, but I'm definitely going to plant the idea in people's heads so it won't be such a shock next year.

One sad thing I've noticed is a commercial for a nursing home. It plays on 570 News sometimes. It tells you about a nursing home and how they care for lots of seniors. But its main thrust is to remind people to visit their loved ones who are living in the home. Seriously.

I know this is a problem. My mom used to work in a nursing home, and she talked about residents who didn't get visitors. Part of me is really happy that the staff at this place thought enough to pay for a commercial to encourage people to come visit their relatives. But I find it sad that there is that much of a need. I wish everybody would stop and think about how it would feel to be living in a place, not even your own place, and not have anyone come by while you are bombarded with messages about time with friends and family. It's bad enough the rest of the year, but how depressing would it be at Christmas? Whether or not Grandpa is living at home or in a nursing home, he's still Grandpa. Go see him. Is it that hard?

Another commercial that I've seen is one for McDonald's, and it just looks so desperate. There comes a point when a commercial just looks like an attempt to cash in on the Christmas blitz, and it comes off as a fail.

It says that dads are always the hardest to shop for, because they have everything. So why not give him what he really needs? Why not give him time? Share some McNuggets with him and enjoy all dad has.

Funny, all I keep hearing is that line from Bob Rivers's "Didn't I get this last year?"
Surprise, surprise, a coupon for some fries. That was really very thoughtful you guys. I also keep envisioning that older McDonald's commercial where these two kids give a guy some half-eatin "pre-dipped" McNuggets for a Christmas present. Does dad really want to take that risk?

Last year, when I bought the huppy that weird squeaky giraffe thing, I had no idea if he'd like it or not. But this year, I'm super excited about what I got for him. I'm not going to say what it is, since I know the huppy's mom reads, and I want it to be a surprise for her too. But what a difference a year makes. He actually has a personality that gives me thoughts of what he would like and not like.

I think that sums up another Christmas thought post. I hope everyone else is having a good Christmas season, and the London area is beginning to settle down. I also hope that people can make it to Anton's show. I called him the other night to make sure he was ok, and he said that despite the fact that he was basically trapped in his house since Sunday, he's fine. I jokingly asked him if "Let It Snow" was on his list of songs to sing, and he said thankfully no. So, I hope everyone's having fun doing all their Christmas stuff, and I can't believe Hanukkah is already done. Have a good one.

Holy Expensive Bible!

Here's one for all the people who have tried to heal me.

Many times, during conversations where super-religious folk tell me I can be saved, or invite me to some kind of healing service, they ask me if a braille bible exists. Well, I'm here to say the answer is yes...if you can afford it.

I was poking around on The Braille Superstore's website, and typed bible into their search box just for curiosity's sake, and boy oh boy did I find a lot of bibles.

Where should I begin? Well, you can get the Holy Bible in grade 2 braille for $661.53, or if you can't read Grade 2 Braille, you can get the Grade 1 Braille version for $856.41.

If you're catholic, the Roman Catholic bible in Grade 2 Braille is $728.20, and it's $939.49 in Grade 1.

Nope, You're not losin' it. That's the cost of getting the whole bible in braille, and that's the price set by a store that sells things at a reasonable price! It says on the main bible page that the bible is 36 volumes in Grade 2 Braille. I would have expected it to have been more, since the old Webster's dictionary was 37 volumes. But what do I know?

So, the next time you get asked if there's a bible in braille, send the person here and they'll have their answer, and then they'll probably faint, and not just at the sight of the cost of the bible.

Thanksgiving, and Other Rambles

I just felt like rambling, and since the blog may get a little quiet over the next couple of days because Steve and I are both running off to Thanksgiving stuff, what better time for a ramble fest.

First, happy Thanksgiving to all the Canadian readers. Hope you have lots of yummy food and pleasant times with family. It doesn't seem like it should be already Thanksgiving, but here it is. I'm glad the weather is being nice and giving us what is supposed to be a weekend full of sun. Now that I've said that, it'll pour.

I was talking to Ro earlier in the week about Thanksgiving and saying that I have no idea why we celebrate a holiday with the same name as Americans at a different time, and that makes me feel like one of those stupid people in those videos that we've linked to before, who have no idea about the most basic things. So I decided to see if I could figure it out. I was hoping for some cool, exciting explanation that I would be able to remember, but all I can find is that ours is more connected with European festivals celebrating the end of the harvest and being thankful for having enough food for the winter, where the American Thanksgiving is all about the Pilgrims and the Mayflower and stuff.

The funny thing about that is we learned about the Pilgrims and the Mayflower in school when they explained the meaning of Thanksgiving. Then I'd get so confused when people told me that American Thanksgiving is at a different time. So, I'd wonder, did the Mayflower make a stop and drop off some Pilgrims, and then move on? God I was a silly kid.

This is a terrible thing to say, but I always get a wee bit sad about Thanksgiving ever since one guy told me what he thought of the holiday. I was working at the crisis line, and I asked a fellow volunteer what I thought was a pretty safe question. "So, are you doing anything for the long weekend?" He looked at me, and there was a long, heavy silence, after which he said "No. I don't celebrate it. I always thought it was a pretty dark celebration. We say it's about giving thanks for finishing a journey, but we're actually celebrating taking advantage of a whole people. We're celebrating an exchange that went like this. 'Hi Mr. Native guy. Here's some beads, give us your land.'" I always knew that was part of it, but um, to have it put out like that made me just feel a teeny weeny bit guilty about chowing down on Turkey and stuffing.

But then I thought hey, we celebrate easter, and somebody went up on a friggin cross for crying out loud. If we can eat yummy chocolate then, why can't I enjoy some turkey now? Writing that, I feel a wee bit like an asshole. I hope it makes sense though.

I know one thing Trixie is thankful for, this new food I switched her too. Holy hell, Wellness Fish is the fountain of youth for Trix. She's so much more full of life and joy. I didn't think that was possible but apparently it is. I also have to feed her a little more, because she peeled off too many pounds. The boodog is not supposed to be only 50 pounds. Eek! But I think this food is the right stuff, because she didn't need her anal glands done at the time when she usually should. Yea! And so far, no constipation issues. I wish I could remember when the poopy problems started with the Orijen fish, because I don't know if we're out of the woods yet, or if we haven't hit them. She started eating Orijen mid May, and I know there was a serious poop problem by the end of June, but it had already been building for a little while. So I guess I won't be able to really jump for joy until November. But so far, so good.

One thing she's doing more of is drinking, which means she needs to pee more. I don't know if this is something to worry about, perhaps a new normal because of the composition of the fish-based food, or something that will level off. I know her urine was fine as of September because I got all scared at the beginning of September and took her for some tests, and they came back normal. I feel a bit paranoid for getting worried, but I guess it's better to be safe than sorry. At any rate, everything came back normal, so if there is a problem, it's a relatively new development. I guess I'll just keep an eye on it.

Yesterday marks the first day I pissed off Trekker. Well, not really pissed it off, but yesterday was the first day I couldn't follow the routes it was setting for me, so it had to keep rerouting.

I'm going to say again that I looove my Trekker. I never ever want to be without GPS again. I can get lost now and it's not a big deal because it will keep telling me where I am, so I can figure it out with relative ease. It's like sighted folk walking around reading street signs.

I decided yesterday I was going to go on an adventure. I was going to find our polling station so we wouldn't have to tag along with someone if for some reason it didn't suit to do that. So I grabbed my Trekker, and off Trix and I went.

I had plotted a route to the polling station, so I started following it like a good little sheep, baaa baaa. But as I happily zoomed along, what's this? The sidewalk ends? Oh dear, oh dear dear, this is no good.

So, I managed to get myself to a place where there was a sidewalk, and continued. Trekker noticed I wasn't where I should have been and rerouted me. We arrived at the polling station, sort of, and it got all happy.

Then, I tried to go back. Somehow, I got myself all turned around, to the point where it was naming streets that the bus travels on its way *away* from my house. Oh my my, this was no good at all. Knowing when I could use a wee bit of help, I asked Trekker to plot a route back home. And it did, and I tried to follow it.

As I did, I hit some nice unhappy construction, and had to walk on the other side of the street from where I should have been. Trekker kept trying to tell me to cross the street, but I couldn't because there was no crosswalk from my side over to that side. Oh Trekker was not a happy man. "You are off route! Please turn back!" Oh if only I could, buddy.

Finally I got to a light where I knew I could make the crossing. I did, and boy was Trix happy to see familiar turf. I think she knew we were somewhere a bit unfamiliar, and got a bit lost. But she was a trooper, leading me through torn up streets, saving me from falling into pits, just being generally awesome.

But the thing is this whole time, I generally knew where I was, so it wasn't the least bit scary. When I called Steve to say I was on my way home from my adventure, I was laughing! If I didn't have GPS, I'd probably be about ready to kill things. Also, Trekker helped me figure out an easier way to get to the place. It's probably a bit circuitous for Joe Sighty, but it involves less crossings and more unobstructed sidewalk than the other way. Now, if Trekker lied to me and the polling station is on the other side of the street, I'll be slightly mad. But at least I'll be way closer than I would have been with no guidance at all.

I have learned something from someone else's misfortune. One of our frequent commenters, Martin, said that he and his guide dog had a less than pleasant meetin' with a skunk. In telling his story, he mentioned that he got a product from the vet called Skunkoff that worked well in deskunking his poor unfortunate canine. What? You can have a product on hand for just such an occasion? You don't have to cook up a potentially explosive concoction? Yea! I'm a fan! I'm going to have to see if my vet has just such a thing hanging around.

I've noticed that I tend to end these rambles with the eyebrow-raising things that Joe Public does. So, here are a couple. One question that always cracks me up that I get on a pretty regular basis is "Would you like some help putting that harness on?" My first thought is how do they think I got it on in the first place? I'd understand it maybe if my hands were full or something, but I get this question when I have nothing in my hands, not even a bag of dog crap.

Then I remember how complicated the harness seemed to me when I first got it, so I think maybe they think it's a two-person job or something. But when you think about that, wouldn't that suck to have a dog that belongs to one person using a harness that required multiple sets of hands to put on?

Don't get me wrong, I appreciate offers of help. I especially appreciate it when people offer to hold stuff so I do have hands available to put on the harness. But offering to put the harness on is kinda like offering to help me zip up my pants. I have to do it on a daily basis, and I *should* be able to do that without any help because it's a one person job.

The one that super cracked me up was when Steve and I got off the Megabus when we went to see Barb. Immediately, I noticed that Trixie was walking with a hippity hop gait. I asked the folks helping us to stop because I had to check the harness. Sure enough, Trix's front legs had popped through the front of the harness. So, I had to fix it. I bent down and unbuckled the harness. Instantly, the fellow leading us had a canary! "It's undone, let me do it up!" No, sir, I'm fixing it. "But it's undone, let me help you do it up!" No, sir, I have to get her leg back to where it should be. Eventually, I just ignored him, fixed the harness, buckled it up, and we went on our way. But it cracks me up that people think I can't handle something like a dog harness.

Another thing that kills me is when people state the obvious. Allow me to explain. Trix and I went to the store. The store is in a little plaza, the one with the roof, where Trixie wanted to hang out during the rainstorm. When I came out of the store, Trix immediately sped up. This was not happening for any good reason, so I brought her progress to a sudden halt and had her sit. After a second or two I told her forward and steady. Speed again. No, beasteroo, that is not on the program. Sit. Down. Sit. Down. Sit. Down. Are we good now? We appeared to be, to the point that she was carefully edging along. Suddenly, I heard some slight yeeping coming from ahead of me, along with clicking of nails. Ah! It became clear to me. There is a dog ahead!

As we got closer, I noticed that this dog a. was standing outside the door of a building, taking up quite a bit of what is the sidewalk in the plaza, and b. had become very still and quiet. This made me very nervous. This can mean two things. Either the dog is well-behaved, or he's poised ready to pounce on us if we get within a set perimeter that he has decided is his personal space bubble. I came to a stop and assessed the situation a little bit. But of course, Trix was not happy with the fact that we had stopped, and her resistance to this temptation began to dwindle. She started to yeep and move as if she'd like to say hello. Just as this happened, a woman walked up to me and said "there's a dog there."

Well, duh. Thanks for comin' out. If the dog had made no movements and my dog wasn't moving and I couldn't figure out what was obstructing our way, then yeah I guess I could understand telling me that there's a dog there. But a. I'm correcting my dog, and b. I think I'd just finished saying aloudd, "Ah! There's a dog there!"

What would be extremely helpful information in a situation like this would be information about the other dog. Is it loose or tied up? What about its posture. Is it looking like it's about to pounce? Or, is its tail wagging? Are its ears tense or relaxed? That would tell me whether I could probably zip by, or whether I should take the long way home. but "there's a dog there" is not helpful.

Next, this woman thought she would assist me in getting past the dog by grabbing a hold of Trixie's harness handle. Just for future reference, this will get the same response as grabbing a guide dog's leash. Please don't grab any part of the dog. For one thing, that puts your feet really close to mine which means I or the dog might step on you, and for another, it makes it super hard for the dog to do its work because you're kind of right where it's trying to go. If you really think the guide dog isn't doing what it should because it's distracted, and you don't think the dog we're trying to pass is vicious, offer to guide me past the dog. This will do two things. You end up between me and the dog, so Trix may not look at the dog as such a temptation, and you're not in the way, taking up a little more of what little sidewalk we already have.

I was already on edge because we were near a dog and I didn't know what kind of dog it was, so the poor woman got told to let go of the handle in not such a nice way. First I told her quietly to let go, but she didn't, so I raised my voice just a little. Nope. Finally I yelled at her to let go of the handle and she did. I feel bad whenever this happens because I don't want to be the angry blind woman, but gees, please listen to what I'm saying.

Once again I feel guilty writing these things because I don't want to make people afraid to help blind folks. Really, we don't bite. But I hope that what I offer as suggestions are helpful ones that make sense.

And I think that's about it for now. To everybody who's getting ready to feast with family and friends, have a good one.

Talk About Your Back-Handed Compliment!

I've been told in the past that I'm so young and pretty, what a waste that I'm blind, but I heard a close second tonight.

I went out to this weird sing-along thingy that was happening at a restaurant in Guelph. I thought, as I was going, how is this going to work? We're at a restaurant, so we feel incline to buy things to eat and drink. But we're singing! Do you chow down in the songs you don't know well?

The trick is to arrive early, eat, and then sing. We arrived early, but didn't get served until the singing was starting.

Anyway, the reason for this long and winding ramble was I was going there with a friend I met through the French meetup group. She was meeting some other friends there who I didn't know. One of them, at the end of the night, whipped this gem out on me. "Um, er, I didn't know you were sight-impaired. I would never have known, you're so beautiful!"

As much as I found it flattering to be called beautiful, the sentence rattled around my head like a pinball.

Hmmm. So, blind people are ugly? We're all disgusting to look upon? Did the sight of our beastly faces cause our eyes to lose the will to live? Or do we all rock violently, poking our eyes deeper and deeper into their sockets? Or, are we missing the eyes in the sockets and we hadn't heard of prosthetic eyes yet? What exactly does this woman think the average blind person looks like?

As the ricocheting continued, she seemed to be trying to assess just how blind I was. She could not grasp that I did, in fact, not see any better in the day than at night. "What do you see right now?" she asked me. "A blob in the general area where your face should be. I only know it's your face, because words are coming out of it." This didn't seem to sit very well with her, but I figured I had to get as basic as possible to make her understand blind. She kept insisting that I must see better in the day. No, ma'am, I don't. It is what it is. Maybe I'll see a shadow from slightly further away, but it has no greater detail in the day than at night.

Then she reached for Trixie, even though she had been warned not to, and was surprised when I pulled Trixie back to my side. "She looked at me!" she protested. So you're saying that you, a woman in your fifties, have no more self-control than a 5-year-old lab? I guess that shows in the comment above that started this whole winding path of thought.

It's funny. Each of those things on their own could be considered an oopsy, an awkward moment, or harmless questions. But when you put them together, they paint a great big picture of ignorance.

A Little Guide Dog Ettiquet Article

Michelle sent me this little "don't pet the guide dog you moron!" article. Good on the paper for publishing it. It's sad that the general public needs such reminders, but they're always welcome.

This little article made me think of two things that happened to me recently. I was sitting on the bus and this woman came on, stopped in front of Trix and I, and started petting Trix. I grabbed her hand and said "Please don't pet my guide dog," at which point the woman just walked off without acknowledging that I had spoken.

Her friend gave her a royal tongue-lashing about "That's a service dog! You don't touch a service dog!" I grinned from ear to ear, until I heard our resident numbnut pipe up with "I asked her and she said it was ok." I looked in her direction and said "I never heard you utter one word. If you asked with your eyes, that isn't good enough, I'm blind." That woman never said another word on the bus.

I also had a guy run past Trix and I when Trix was peeing, and he kissed at her and said "Hey puppy." I said "She says hi. She's off duty, so she can." At which point he ran over and said "She's off duty?" and got on his knees and started petting Trix. So, I have to assume that you know the difference, and you thought kissing at her and talking at her when she's *on* duty was a good idea?

I thank my lucky stars that people haven't tried to feed Trix as we go by. I've had a couple shockers from family when she was off leash, but nobody just randomly ran up to her while working and tried to shove food in her gob. If they did, oh my, there would be steam issuing from my ears.

But I have to also brag about how many parents I saw at Ribfest who told their little munchkins that "That's a working dog. You don't pet those dogs." Whenever I can, I thank those parents profusely. I also swear I heard a teeny tiny kid say "Guide doggy, guide doggy, guide doggy!" Good on you for knowing it's a guide doggy!

I hope articles like this help to educate a few more of the Australian public.

As an aside, I had to laugh because the comments submit area was completely inaccessible. A person wrote in and complained about the captcha, but that's not all. Even if you do the captcha, the submit button is completely inaccessible to screenreaders. If anyone can get it to work, let me know how you did it.

Hi again, Michelle. You and Troy keep on truckin'.

The Teddy Bear Picnic Was A Blast

Back last Friday, I mentioned the Teddy Bear Picnic. Well, yesterday, it happened, and it was a lot of fun.

We had lots of fun. We had bears wearing little glasses, bears with little white canes, lots of stuff. We had a model of a communication board for kids who have trouble speaking, we had the colouring books that showed lots of disabilities, and we had lots of blind guy stuff, which turned out to be the giant hit.

At first, it was a bit overwhelming, but then I got into my groove. Everybody wanted their names brailled, even the parents. And some of them wanted their dogs' and bears' names brailled too! Good stuff! We even got visited by the Mascot for the Guelph Storm. Poor Stormy. I kept asking him questions, and he felt he couldn't talk. At the end, he tried to give me a high five, and out of sheer confusion, I ended up shaking his hand! Woops! Ah well, it made for some funny stories.

I think the organizers said we got over 500 people at the picnic, despite the fact that we got poured on twice. Those are some determined picnickers. We sure saw a lot of kids, and lots of them coloured in colouring books, took alphabet cards, and played "decode the braille message." One kid cracked me up. She started reading the print in the print-braille book I had, and then started adding her own words. She read the last page of the book, which was on the subject of the Perkins Panda, the silly little bear the Brailler folk put out, and then said "Perkins, you are too easy for me. I can read chapter books way harder than you. You are reeeally easy." She decoded the braille message super fast and then said, "I'm going to take this home and I'll write notes to you in braille code, dad! She was only seven! I chuckled to myself.

Some kids asked about Trixie, who ended up being held onto by another committee member so kids could sidle right up beside me and watch the brailler and watch me read. It was awesome to educate little ones about why you shouldn't pet a working dog. I even got to straighten out a woman and tell her that most blind people don't fondle people's faces to identify who they are. I wished I had had more time with each kid, but I was in super high demand just brailling names!

It was a lot of fun. Some committee members thought they couldn't be of any help at all, but they ended up being the most helpful. The one lady holding Trix could just reel kids in like fish with a simple "Hello, how are you?" They were right in our booth in two seconds. It was great. I hope everybody who dropped by learned a thing or two.

That's How It's Done!

A little note to the nice lady who helped me across the parking lot at Speedvale Plaza last night:

You're awesome. You couldn't have helped me any better. In fact, you need to train everybody who I've complained about. First, you asked me if I needed help. Then you asked me where I was going, and listened to the answer! You did not pet or talk to my dog. You next asked how you could help, and I said I would follow you. You respected that. You made conversation with me and didn't make me feel like a giant idiot. At doors, you asked if it would be helpful if you could open or hold a door. Then, at the end, you made me gasp when you said, "Do you want help back out? Do you want to go the way you came in?" When we went out to the sidewalk, you asked me if I needed anything else.

Now that, that was good help! It's things like that that have me coming home with a bounce in my step. I thanked you, but I regret not actually explaining to you why I was so eternally grateful. So thank you. You're awesome.

Trixie Gets A Novel

I don't think Trix has gotten a post all to herself in a while. I think she's due.

I always knew that she responded to different people in different ways, but I've noticed something else. Among the people she loves, even they get different kinds of affection.

There's me. I get the dancing around me, the kisses, the nuzzle with the head, the asking for belly rubs, the sitting beside me. Pretty standard stuff. But if she sees Brad, she practically climbs in his lap and licks his face. I don't think she's ever climbed in the shoe thief's lap, but she'll lick the hell out of his face. He calls it the paint brush. Also, if she's following him, she will get this husky-like pull going on and I have to tell her to steady. She will, and she's good, but her pull feels totally different. If mom and dad are here, she bugs the heck out of mom. She will sit by her, and get a bunch of pets. But if mom stops, she will look longingly at her and poke her from time to time with her nose. When Barb's boyfriend was here, she ran at him, barked at him and then ran in circles. And the other day, she fell madly in love with a guy in our building, and nibbled on his nose! Hey! I haven't even been nibbled on the nose. I've been licked on the ear, but never nibbled on the nose! Silly poocho.

Ok, I have to talk about nose-nibblee for a minute. After that first day when they had quite the bonding session, I saw him in the building a couple of days later. We were walking, and he called out to her for a second and then said "You're not even going to acknowledge me?" I told him that no, she was working, and when she's working, she's trying to keep her focus. We went on our way out to do business.

When we came back in, he dove in front of me and said "I'm going to say hi to you, then." I was dumbfounded, and sternly told him to stop that. He stepped back in surprise, and then I talked to him like a normal human being again. I explained, more slowly this time, that when she's working, she's not a pet, she has a job to do, bla bla bla. Next, he looked at me and said something that always puzzles me when I hear it. "I should have known that, I know someone who trains police dogs." Then you damn well should have! Would you seriously dive in front of a police dog? If you did, I should think you might need a few stitches.

I told him to never ever do that again. Just ask to pet her, and if I have a moment, I will take the harness off and let him. To prove the point, I took the harness off, and she lay down in front of him for belly rubs. Then he said "I was actually a little hurt that she ignored me, but now that I know why, I don't feel so bad." Seriously, man, Trixie can hurt your feelings? Those are some fragile feelings!

Trix goes through funny phases. Sometimes, she's just content to sleep in a bed and chill. But right now, I can't leave a room without having her on my tail. It's pretty cute.

The time has come once again to turn my pooch into a shampooch. She got another bath. My sister is getting married in a couple of weeks, and I want Trix to be all spruced up for the wedding. The silly girl is starting to minorly fight me going into the groomers. This makes me sad. I was able to go there 3 times and she'd practically gallop in there. I'm going to have to maybe make an effort to treat her at every turn so she will have incentive to follow the correct path to the door, not, um, find deviations to make. She still leaves the place flawlessly and gets me to the bus stop to get home, but she's started fighting me at the door, and giving me some resistance walking to the tubs.

I had to have her anal glands expressed. The vets did it in June, and the groomers at the place did it in April. This worries me that she's needing them done this often. Somebody's vet said as long as it's no more frequent than 3 months, not to worry. Um, this is about every two months. Maybe I need to sit down and talk to her vet. She also has a small sebaceous cyst near her tail that I pointed out to the vets at her check in April. I wonder if it's somehow contributing to the more frequent need to get the ol' glands done.

I've noticed another sign of when she needs them done, though. Not only does she chew the hell out of herself, but she has significantly more trouble pooping. Yeah, Trix, don't ya just love it? I'm mentioning the intimate details of your bowel movements up on the blog. But now that the glands are cleared out, she's pooping normal again. She's not straining, circling, and dropping a little here, a little there. That was really really frustrating.

So, I need to have a chatterooski with the vet. Hopefully there's nothing to worry about. Probably not, but I'd rather be safe than sorry.

I'm also happy that those few extra pounds that Trix put on due to the construction and the weather are gone gone gone. Yea! Success is mine! It's so nice to hear people saying she looks slim and trim. She's back to being my lean, mean, guidin' machine! Not that she had a giant pudge on there, but she was a wee touch heavier than she should have been.

My dad's being all cute. Like I said before, my sister's getting married in a couple of weeks. He said he saw another guide dog handler at a fancy event and he'd put a tie on his guide dog. He thought that was cute, and hoped to find something for Trixie, but more girly. I eventually found something. It's a little fuzzy bow with a crystal sort of thing in it. But I found it after mom and dad had left, so I wanted to send them a picture. And here's where things get fun. I managed to get the huppy's dad to snap the photo, but he couldn't figure out how to rename it. So not only did I not know where it was, but I didn't know what it was called. So, I was looking through my phone, and looking, and looking, and I thought I'd found it! I sent it off to my mom, all proud of myself.

Then I thought I'd better check to see what it was. So, I sent it to RAIVE asking them what the picture was. Before they could respond, I got a laughing message from my sister. "What a cute picture of two pigs," she said. "But I thought I was going to get a shot of Trixie in her new collar." Oh dear, oh dear dear.

What I had done was send a test shot we had used to check if the camera was working. When I was at that conference, as I said in our long and winding audio cast, I went over to the Arroga table and asked if they could test for me that the camera on my phone was working. So they took a picture of something that had some braille, and a picture of two pink pigs on it...er something. I'm very lucky that she said "Let's take a picture of these pigs here!" so when my sister mentioned pigs, I knew exactly what happened.

I eventually found the picture that the huppy's dad took, and sent it, and yes, RAIVE said that it was a picture of a woman and a dog sitting on the lawn.
Folks seemed happy with the fuzzy bow, so that was pretty cool. It was a success! At least I hope so! Can you see the fuzzy bow?

What was not a success, unfortunately, was getting directions to the pet store where I picked up said fuzzy bow. I have never met so many people devoid of the power of simple observation in my life! Usually I meet one or two, but not six!

I knew that it was along this one street, and the woman working there said the store was directly across from the Bookshelf. Ok. The Bookshelf was on Trekker's maps, but not this place. So I would just stop when Trekker announced the bookshelf and ask if someone saw the pet store. Right? Right?

The first person I asked told me there was no pet store anywhere, he couldn't see it anywhere. I was very puzzled. So, I walked up closer to the corner and ran into someone else. I told him I was looking for a pet store, did he see one. He said no. So I said where would 40 Quebec Street be? He couldn't even tell me that! He said that I was near 15 Quebec Street so I should cross the street and continue up Quebec. Puzzled, I did so.

After crossing, I met a flock of people, and asked them where the pet store was. Miraculously, they sort of knew where it was. They proceeded to tell me that I have to go back from whence I came, and I will find it. Since I'm not in the business of repeatedly retracing my steps, I asked them what stores it's between, and I get this informative response. "It's between Salon de Tea and the other thing." The other thing? What other thing? "The other thing! The thing! You know, the thing! There are a lot of stores down there. It's near the thing!"

One of them whipped out the "you can't miss it" line. I swear, the next person who says that there's no way I can miss the giant sign or the giant display, I'm going to bet them $50 that I can. Come on! I'm standing here with a dog with a harness that clearly states "guide dogs for the blind" and you tell me that I can't miss the big blue sign? Wake up!

I eventually gave up on them, crossed back across the street and walked until I heard the music from Salon de Tea. I stopped and asked someone else where the pet store was. "I don't know," they said. "I don't see one anywhere!" I was gonna lose it real fast, when a guy came by walking his dog. I asked him where it was, and he told me. We were essentially right next to it! Lordy Lou! What an adventure.

This whole theme of my sister's wedding seems to be driving this post. Bunches of our family will be staying over after the wedding, since it's in Toronto, and...they're not. So, we found a hotel that had a deal on. It's the Sheraton Centre and it's across from Nathan Philips Square. So here's my question. Has anyone stayed there with a guide dog? Are the staff good at showing folks where a relieving spot is, or will they say something silly like "There's a big park over there. You can't miss it!"? Will they understand what I mean when I ask them where I can relieve my dog? Probably noone can answer this, but I'm taking a shot in the dark. I really really hope I can take care of Trix's business without needing a heaping helping of help from everybody. When I went to Niagara Falls to visit Trix's raisers, the only place we could relieve was across a giant street, through a gate and down a winding, disorienting path into a park. Since I was only there briefly, I needed to get the raisers to help me find it. This meant waiting for them to wake up before I could take care of Trixie's basic needs. I hated that feeling. I'm hoping I won't feel it this time. This should be an adventure.

It's August again, so that means it's that time when Chuck comes to see us. I think this is going to be the shortest visit ever, since he seems to have shoehorned me into a tight spot. Oh well. I'm a little mad that the day he is insisting on just happens to be the busiest day I have in the damn week. Somehow, we'll survive though.

I'm really not sure where we'll go. The only problem I have is Trix's tendancy to stealth sniff things when we're in a crowded area. She doesn't even have to put her head down to get a sniff of something nearby. Or we'll be navigating a tight space, and she'll sneak a sniff. Devil!

I'm not even nervous about the follow-up. I've gotten to the point where I look forward to any tips or tricks he could give me. I'm just not looking forward to doing everything in a damn rush this time.

And I think that does it for Trix updates. That turned into a small monster!