The "Financ"

First of all I'll try to explain to you what "Financ" means in the context of my story. All of you silly English speaking readers might refer to the Big Oxford for a definition, which is; "finance: 1./ the management of public revenues; the conduct or transaction of money matters generally; in banking; investments; etc. etc." Now that is only partially correct because the barbarians, borrowing, twisting and brutalizing the Queen's English, use it in some sacrilegious manner, like my people, giving it a rather different meaning. Read on and learn.

                                                                                    

Snoring

We do the darndest things to survive in a relationship, desperately trying not to make changes for fear of retaliation. I'm asking you, what would you do if the object of your affection is one of those who snores? Would you insist on separate bedrooms, medical intervention or, I'm thinking the unthinkable: divorce? To aggravate your predicament further, you know very well that her excessive eating habit, which borders on obesity, is a major cause of the nightly rock concert.

                                                                                   

The Sign

I've never missed a road sign yet. I read them all. It's a deep seated habit with me. Distances, directions and warnings, but most diligently the signs of towns, cities and villages. I know where it started.

One day I made a very peculiar observation. Considering my age at the time, I have to grant myself high marks for wisdom. I was about eight or ten years old at the most, when I came across the most startling realization.

                                                                                       

A gift from Uncle Louis.

He gave me a star. Uncle Louis, that is. The very night my sister was born, the 14th day of August 1935. I was crying badly, as he was dragging me to my grandmother's house against my will. My mother sent me away, she was lying in bed. She kissed me. I found it strange, - not much kissing went on in our house when I was growing up. It scared me, as much as the idea scared me to spend the night in my grandmother's house. I didn't like her. She was cold, very strict...

                                                                                   

Hector's Demise.

Hector AAmazing walked with measured steps along Maple Street. His frail and slender figure threaded the streets and avenues with comfortable familiarity. He projected a confident, carefree stance, although he had aplenty to worry about. Things weren't going as well as they should in his life and it had started to affect his work. He hadn't produced a sellable canvas in months. The Gallery that handled his paintings refused to give him any more advances. Six pieces were hanging in the back room for ages with no buyers.

                                                                         

A word of caution. The writings on these pages are mostly unedited manuscripts. Work in progress.

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The vet

In order to function in this complex world, regardless whether you are a lonely soul or a family of five, you need a team of specialist to assist you. You don't realize this until one day you decide to move to another part of the country. To pack your belongings is really the easy part especially if the task is handled by a "packing/moving" maniac like Clara my partner-in-hoarding. It is amusing what amount of junk people are capable of collecting through the years with the ever-repeated slogan: "We might need it one day."

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