Blinded by perks of nearing middle age, median income

  

You know you’ve made it when you can afford custom blinds. 

It took me 25 years of climbing the government union ladder (it’s not that high) but I’m finally there. I’m at a point where someone can come to my home to measure my windows, offer me a multitude of colours and patterns, and tell me, “You’re worth it.” 

Maybe she didn’t say the last part. But to visit us three times, I think she saw something special in us. So special that she sold us the best blinds money can buy.  

Ten years ago, I would have scoffed at the cost. Back in the day, I would rig non-custom blinds on our bedroom windows to make them work. Or we just didn't have any. For most of our married life, we’d be careful about how much clothing we had or didn’t have on when entering the kitchen at night. 

We had decades-old Venetian blinds on our four front windows that no longer had handles to open and close. You had to reach for the little knob to manually turn each one. Our cat would bend them to look out the window and we would bend them back. 

We considered replacing them, but with what? I wasn’t about to rig some non-customs on our front windows. Plus we were “low income” back then. There were days, after looking at our bank account, when we would wonder what we were going to eat for the rest of the month. 

Okay, it was never quite that bad. We were never impoverished. But I thought about money almost every day (now, only every few days). 

I’m not saying we’re wealthy by any means. We just make more than we once did. We’re nearing the median household income in Canada according to the CRA. It’s a lot easier, though, when you're at the lower end of "median" than the higher end of the poverty line.  

It means we can buy custom blinds. I won’t tell you how much they cost because it's too personal. Let’s just say they’re motorized and are scheduled to rise and descend with the sun. They also cost more than my first car which, as you might guess, wasn't much.

Strangely, they give me about as much satisfaction. As a 16-year-old, I would have laughed at what I've become. But as you near middle age (50, right?), you begin to appreciate new, unremarkable things. 

You appreciate your lawn and your garden. You get into birdwatching. You pick berries every chance you get until your freezers can hold no more. 

You find pleasure in watching your blinds automatically open and close on schedule, or seeing visitors get spooked by their sudden movement. I’m truly mesmerized by the wonders of home improvement.

Now if only I could get as excited about painting.

Blue jays cawing for the big win

  

This fall, we have an unusual number of blue jays. 

Over the last twenty years, I’ve only seen a few in Regina. When we do see one, it’s a big deal. We point and shout, “Look at that blue jay!” Then other people look at what we’re pointing at and say, “Wow, a blue jay!” These days you can hear them cawing everywhere. 

It must be a sign. 

This is the year of the Blue Jays. You know, the baseball team. I thought I’d clarify since some of you may not follow, nor fully understand, the sport of baseball... ahem, like me. 

Honestly, I didn’t know they were in the playoffs until they were in the playoffs. I can’t watch most of the games because I don’t subscribe to the right channel. Every so often, though, a game will be televised on a channel I do have, and it just so happened that game seven was on last Monday night.

Not that I’d ever watch an entire game. I just wanted to check the score every now and then because 1) Baseball and me have a checkered past of embarrassment and boredom (I grew to hate left field) and 2) My wife, who had just sat down with me, said: “I’m not watching this.” Now, to be clear, she never says this while I’m watching football because she knows it’s a sacred sport, but baseball? Nah... So we watched a baking show. But once she left, I turned on the game at the bottom of the seventh inning. 

As it turns out, it was a good inning. Let me tell you what happened, with my low baseball IQ, in case you missed it. 

Two Blue Jays players were on base (not on the same base, they don't allow that - first and second base). There were no outs. So why, I asked myself, is the next batter trying to bunt?! Anyway, he bunted and got himself out but those two players stole bases in the meantime. I guess that’s the way it’s done.

Next batter up was a guy named Springer. Never heard of him. Anyway, before he came up to bat, the other team’s coaches had a long conversation with the pitcher from the other team (Seattle Mariners, right?). After a lengthy discussion, I guess that pitcher agreed he best step down and let another pitcher get some reps in. Because apparently, one pitcher can’t pitch a whole game. Like, what’s with that? Apparently, teams start different pitchers every game. This made me wonder: How many pitchers are there?? I looked it up: The Blue Jays have 13 pitchers on their active roster. Seems like overkill, but I guess that’s the way it’s done. 

Anyway, getting back to the game: A new Seattle pitcher comes in. I guess they thought he was good or something but it turned out, he wasn’t. I watched in real time as Springer hit his home run, effectively winning the game for the Jays. Perhaps the most pivotal moment of the Blue Jays season I watched in real time. I felt special. Then I changed the channel (ha, ha).

Not to get too sentimental, but it reminded me of Joe Carter’s home run in the 1993 World Series that I also watched in real time as a high school student. My cousin convinced me to watch with her, and thanks to a lenient dorm dean, we escaped our religious boarding school to watch the entire World Series during study hours. It was the closest I came to fully enjoying baseball.

I'm getting similar vibes today. I think we'd all agree, the time has come for Canada to take back the Commissioner's Trophy (yes, that's what it's called). Assuming Trump allows it to cross the border, or at least adheres to court orders to release the trophy to us, we will once again be the baseball champions of the world.

Blue jays everywhere are cawing in support. 

And I, in turn, commit to turning on the TV to check the score in between baking shows – should my channels allow for it – to hopefully catch another magical moment. 

Starting tonight.... right?