Rose's Cantina

  A few weeks ago, our Bell PVR started acting up and refused to cooperate with our Sony Bravia Smart television. We kept getting error messages with a code that said, "Obviously, the television thinks it's smarter than us so it won't talk to us". I called Bell a few times and the calls went like this. "Try unplugging the modem." I already tried that. "Unplug the television." Yup, did it. "Smack it with the back of your hand." Okay, the last thing the agent didn't say, but she might as well have. So we ordered a new PVR and waited a week and a half for it to arrive. It didn't work, either. "Maybe it's your television." Shut up.  This is a brand new television. I was so fed up I told Scott I was calling to cancel our Cadillac service on Bell. We've been with the carrier for years now after punting Rogers for its ridiculous call service training which basically instructs university students and recent immigrants to

  Sometimes it takes a visit to the cottage to put everything into perspective. The cottage is always the place where I work things out, and talk things out with my husband. It's a place with no social media, and little contact with the real world except for the occasional visit with CBC Radio. Most years, I arrive at the cottage miserable. One year, I was working the whole time editing books. That was the same year we brought Gordie the pug, and Scott had to leave immediately to return to the city to have the poor little fellow put down. I remember walking in the lake, all by myself, and wailing because nobody but God and the lake could hear me.  Other years, I've been between jobs and worrying about the future, or fretting over waiting for a security clearance to come through, all the while battling disturbing heart palpitations. Yet another couple of years, I spent trying to bolster the spirits of my friend Jennette who was dying of mouth cancer. It was heartbreaking  watchi