Every year a whole slew of peeps ask me if I am willing to do their taxes. As I work as an accountant all day, everyday, I tend to be quite tired of accountantcy once I am home. So I do my friends’ takes grudgingly, with the proviso that I require a meal in return — and I will not accept McDonald’s, Harvey’s, Burger King, KFC, Taco Bell or Wendy’s. I want a real meal, not some $2.99 meal deal with a 2-for-1 coupon attached to it.

I, naturally as a dutiful child, do my parental units’ taxes. Years ago, when my father was rushing to get to Australia to take care of his brother who had just suffered 2 heart attacks and a stroke, my father asked me to do my mother’s taxes. Until 1997 my father had always done his and my mother’s taxes…. but March 1998 was different, he didn’t have time cos of the rush trip to Australia. As I was in the CGA Programme of Studies at the time my father asked me to complete mum’s.

I did her taxes, reviewed prior year filings and noted that my father had never claimed any of his union dues. I claimed 5 years worth of dues on my mother’s taxes. There were also other tax credits which I applied from prior years (there are certain tax deductible expenses that you can accumulate up to a 5 year period which you can then claim all at once). Needless to say, my mum got a big fat refund of $1300 while my father tended to get her about $300-400 each year. The following year my father asked my mum to hand over her T4 and other tax slips… she said no, that she’d prefer her Bean to do them for her, as I get her bigger refunds. The bint never told my dad how much I got her as a refund, and when he found out the yearly demands started — We gave you life, do our taxes. So since 1999 my parents have not done their own taxes. I manage to take advantage of all the loopholes for them, so they get nice little fat cheques; which they really need as every penny counts when an OAP.

Onto my friends… they are terrified of taxes. I don’t know why, really. Taxes are relatively easy and can be quickly filled out in about 15-20 minutes. So they ask me to help. I don’t mind, up to a limit of 5 friends.

I have had people try to barter for my “services” – for things like ceremonial knives (athames), wands, silversmithing services, whatnot. I can’t pay the rent with a pretty knife, or a wand or jewellry. In today’s capitalistic western society money still talks, so I need money. I do accept a meal, because it means that I will be economically benefitting from such a meal — I won’t have to pay for the meal, and/or the groceries for that week.

So to those friends who want me to do their taxes — only 5 of you. If you come as a pair I will count you as “one”. And as a reminder, I am lactose-intolerant, don’t like fish and have developed a distaste for pasta and bread.

This past weekend was eventful – frustrating at times, amusing, entertaining, and embarrassing as well.

It started well, with a visit to Cora’s with Daniel and Robert. Robert didn’t disappoint, delighting me with his incessant need for sugar consumption. The effects of all that sugar is always a delight to behold. We got up to Embolden, for a 3pm talk on Meditation.

Now, there are certain individuals within Toronto’s pagan community who do not delight me in any shape or form. But they exist for various reasons. The individual who sat there, waiting to start his talk on meditation, is one such individual. It was unfortunate that he chose to talk about Buddhism instead of “Meditation 101″; whether he understood what was expected, or if he chose to ignore such a request and carry on discussing what Buddhism, I don’t know. I did find value in what he spoke about, as I view each “talk” I attend as a learning opportunity – either about the topic, or about myself.

My young friend was frustrated and I had to remind him to calm down. Maybe because of the challenges I’ve faced in the past 2 years with regards to my health I tend to be more patient than before, and have learnt not to worry about items/situations out of my control. My friend did manage to calm down. The fellow presenting the talk can be quite exasperating, but instead of fuming and complaining, what one should do (and my friend did this, so I applaud him for this) is offer to do a talk and contribute in some fashion instead of being a passive complainer.

As I said, the fellow can be exasperating, to such a point that one lady left in the middle and another friend chose to leave immediately after the talk because it made him either feel uncomfortable or there was a slight distaste for the presentation.

Afterwards it was onto the Sex Show down at Exhibition Place. I got to beat Robert a few times, and had the great fun of thrusting a few vibrators against this Little Robert. The rolling eyes were quite fun, and more so his shivers of delight over being beaten. I think I’ve found a new activity which I can thoroughly enjoy… not necessarily beating Robert, but I liked the heft of the horsetail and the effects it can have when used on bare flesh.

Yesterday it was my Survival Piss-up. I was reminded a wee while ago that it cannot be my piss-up if I don’t drink. I promised to imbibe one alcoholic drink … ONE. Tarotcub immediately got me a Fuzzy Navel, which I drank (it was good, I quite liked it). Then there was a bit of a discussion with regards to what my next drink would be. I ended up having four cocktails. I did feel a tad fuzzy and at one point my toes felt numb. But the effects wore off rather quickly and by the time I left the pub I was stone cold sober.

For my friends reading this blog, this does not mean you can now delight in getting me even more drinks. I may have enjoyed the Fuzzy Navel and other cocktails, but I have no plans of drinking at every social occassion. Again, I will have to be guilted into it, and I believe I have found ways to resist this “peer pressure”.

I usually have a combination of thoughts and feelings with regards to statements such as this:

My apologies for the nearly duplicate posting, but just like the rumors I have heard about (the Slavic deity) Perun; I have likewise read (in “Of Gods & Holidays”) that Perkunas is associated with sacred fires and the oak.
However this book also does not cite its sources. Does anyone know what source materials are used to make these claims??

This was in response to a post I made on a message board for Reconstructionists. My thoughts, when I read such comments are twofold; I am saddened and angered.

I keep running into this, and I’m sure my fellow Eastern Europeans feel the same way. I hate getting comments such as the above because it raises my hackles, to me it sounds like “please justify your faith”.  Romuva, which is the modern expression of an ancient faith, a faith that has persisted for a very long time. Lithuania did not officially start being converted to the Catholic Faith until the marriage between Grand Duke Jogaila and Jadwiga, Queen of Poland…. conversion started in and around 1387, and it took about 200 years for conversion. Many of the beliefs, practices and customs continued until the 20thC. Our last sacred Oak Grove was chopped down in the 1790s.

Lithuanians are not reconstructing anything. It’s there, it has always been there. The problem with amateur pseudo-academics is that they are accustomed to studying dead cultures. The revival of the Roman Traditions, Hellenismos, etc … all the information is available in texts written a couple millenia ago, but there is no empirical proof that any of these beliefs, traditions have survived — they are myths now.

Lithuanians are referring to folksongs learnt at their grandmother’s knee, folktales taught as children in kindergarten, little proverbs uttered by our mothers when there is a thunderstorm. We never went through a witch-hunt/craze like Western Europe did. Our herbalists/faith healers were and still are revered.

Our source text? The “Liaudies Dainos“, good luck trying to read that if you aren’t fluent in the language. That’s the problem as well. Much of the “source text” that these pseudo-academics whitter on about are not reading their own source texts in the original languages. How many of them can read ancient greek? latin? ancient icelandic? Very few. They rely on translations, and much of the translating work was done decades ago. The expectation now is that us Eastern Europeans get on with it and translate as fast as possible so that they can analyse our source texts.

There is very little appreciation for the rich tapestry of customs and traditions which we have retained and nurtured – against oppression by the Russian Empire (Ems Ukaz anyone?) and then by the Soviet Authorities who tried to stamp out all vestigages of national pride, and even the languages. Very little understanding, or willingness to understand, that our faith is not something from dusty tomes — but a living and breathing and vital component of our lives.

I find it more than annoying that my faith structure in essence is being called into question. The whole – you believe that Perkunas drives a chariot pulled by 2 black goats, show me the source evidence for this. There is no handily packaged set of texts such as the Illiad or the Oddessy for these pseudo-academics to challenge and mull over. The fact that we say – our songs, our folktales, our prayers – means nothing.

I say bugger.

I was born with Bladder Exstrophy, back in the Ice Age when wooly mammoths roamed the earth. Back then there were no support groups for parents, family members or even BE patients. We basically rolled up our sleeves and coped as best as we could. Fast forward a couple decades and there are multiples of resources for those looking for information and support. Basically, today’s mum & dad and their BE/CE child have access to medical information which was not readily available back during the Ice Age.

What confounds me, when I read messages from parents and family members of BE/CE patients is how difficult it is. How their child is suffering from a major case of depression and shame. While I was growing up my parents never allowed me to be ashamed of my exstrophy — why be ashamed of something I have no control over.. it would be like being ashamed that I was born with brown eyes instead of hazel, nothing can be done about the past. My parents raised me to be strong, being able to hold my head up high and deal with my birth defect in a straightforward manner.

I’ve had an interesting surgical history – first surgery in June 1971 at Sick Kids, while still an infant. Next in 1975, then 1983, 1988, 1992, a few teflon injections, 2007 .. and several angioplasty procedures to insert a PIC cos I have crap veins.

I’ve had NG tubes shoved down my nose and into my stomach, many IVs, way too many blood draws, a cut-down when I was 4 while in hospital (rushed into emergency midnight surgery), found out I have a slightly smaller than normal aorta, low blood pressure, reflux of the left ureter AAAANNNDDD I’m lactose-intolerant to cap it all off. All of this crap and I have never been depressed over my situation; annoyed that my body doesn’t obey me, but never depressed.

Am I a special case of a happy go-lucky individual? Nope. I can be moody as all hell. But the reason I have not been depressed or ashamed of my exstrophy is because of the way I was raised by my parents. So it angers me when I see parents of underage BE patients lamenting “my poor baby, his/her life will never be normal”… what is normal? If you hold onto such an attitude the child will pick up on it. Exstrophy, for my parents, was devastating in that they had no one for support. But they accepted my exstrophy as a learning experience from which both they and myself could grow from.

I am a strong person. I have been dealing with medical suppliers since I was 13 years old, booking my own appointments since I was 14 — I was encouraged to take control of my own care. And if these parents did the same for their kids I wouldn’t be surprised if the next generation of BE adults will be just as strong and capable.

So was the plaintive cry of one of my co-workers who couldn’t get her Balance Sheet to balance. Madness, I know.. the very structure of a Balance Sheet means that it will balance. For several centuries now the core premise of accounting is the double-entry system — for every debit there must be a credit. In prior generations when bookkeeping was done on paper ledgers it was possible to miss either the DR or the CR. But in today’s new-fangled computerised accounting systems a journal entry will not post unless it balances.

My co-worker was entering her financial statements into our monthly reporting package. We report in 1000’s so there could be some rounding differences here or there, which can easily be handled. She was off by a freaking $10K on her retained earnings. She asked me if she adjusts her Net Income for that $10K, would that work.

I had to patiently explain to her that there is no difference between the concept of “Income Statement” and “P&L” – they are both the same thing.

She finally figured out, after much coaching on my part for the past 2 days, that her discrepancy isn’t in Retained Earnings, but in her reported Fixed Asset numbers.

The concept of “tick & bob” goes right over her head.

Got this off a friend and I thought it hilarious:

The following is an actual question given on University of Washington chemistry mid term.

Blast! I had blogged nearly a month ago that I was infection free for the first time in 3 months. This has ended. I have a roaring infection again, this time with bladder spasms. This has freaked me out a tad.

My last hospital stay, where I went septic, started with massive bladder spasms about 2 days before dragging myself to the ER where I promptly got even more sick.

I have a script which I intend on filling tomorrow morning. In the meanwhile I have taken some muscle relaxants and using some breathing techniques the nurses at Sick Kids taught me years ago to deal with pain which cannot be killed by meds. I’ve also taken 3000mg of vitamin C, vitamin E and some d-mannose. Hope that holds until I get to the pharmacy.

This was stolen from a friend….

I had such great fun today in the office, oh how I danced and flitted about from file to file.

My co-worker, who is responsible for cash applications, cleared about parts of Accounts Receivable this past Friday. Unfortunately, she cleared out the wrong items. My Accounts Receivable is in a huge mess, for reporting purposes, and who has to answer for this at monthend to the Director of Finance, the CFO and Regional Headquarters? Me. Now I have to fix another’s mistake, which takes me away from my own work.

Received a note from a vendor that they are suspending our account until we pay up for invoices outstanding for more than 180days. We have invoices outstanding for close to a year, sitting on some Account Manager’s desk – their excuse being that t hey are far too busy to process the invoices. We hold to the opinion that if you are the one placing the order, you should be the one making sure the vendor gets compensated. Now we  have other vendors refusing to do business with us, cos it heard it on the grapevine that we take 3 months or longer to pay invoices. My suggest to the Production Accounting Manager is that either we escalate the issue to Senior Management (as this affects the ability of our company to function) or to make it more personal and direct – lock out the individuals responsible for this fiasco from their email accounts.

Have to self-assess PST going back to September 2005. I am doing it for all 7 units. My co-workers are refusing to do their own self-assessments, preferring that I do it. I’d rather not, but it has to be done so that we don’t suffer at the next PST audit.

This post will be a rambling bit of an update on what has been happening in my life lately – and I know how exciting you all find it.

Health:

(1) I made a complaint about a doctor this past Friday morning. The previous night I had gone to the medical clinic (The Doctor’s Office at 595 Bay Street, Toronto) cos I hadn’t had gotten the results of the urinalysis from the prior week, and I still wasn’t feeling that wonderful. The doctor I got was some idiot who decided to talk over everything I said, ignored my concerns and decided to write a script for a medication that wasn’t working at that moment — based on lab results from 5 weeks ago. When I expressed my concerns I was told rather angrily that I cannot come in and dictate what drugs I am to have. I was taken aback — as I have never been told this before in my life. I rang the Clinic Manager the next day and I told her that I was not best pleased with a twit who thinks he knows better about UTIs than a chronic like myself with Bladder Exstrophy, especially with a very angry stoma. She took down my concerns and told me that she’d have a little chat, reminding the doctor that chronics are extremely proactive about their own health and tend to be extremely knowledgeable about pharmaceuticals and their efficacies.

(2) I was a spaz yesterday. Yesterday was a friend’s birthday celebration and we went to a very decadent ice cream/creperie place. At my duly appointment time I proceeded to the ladies to cath. I had no frickin’ catheters with me. I am normally really on the ball with regards to this, as cathing is THE only way I can empty the bladder … no cath= more pain. Thankfully two friends helped me out, driving me over to Sunnybrook.

(3) I am still astounded at the stupidity that abounds at work. My co-workers are still hesitant to call the Help Desk, so I invariably end up fixing their problems – Beanie, how do I do this vlookup? Beanie, my report doesn’t look right, how do I fix tis filter? Beanie, why are you rejecting my department’s invoices? Beanie, my screen is all blue with white text (yes, the dread blue screen of death) …how do I fix this?

(4) I had a squee moment the other day. There’s a webinar on IFRS (International Financial Reporting Standards) on November 10th which I really really really want to take. Canadian GAAP (generally accepted accounting principles) will be wholeheartedly going IFRS come 2011. I know, accounting-geek moment, but I rarely get those.

(5) My friend Geeklawyer is still under this delusional impression that I will do his accounts. He squealed with a little school girl when I said I want to do my ACCA (British designation, equivalency with my accounting association).