Tuesday, June 28, 2005

Where’s the Party?

I’m really excited that tonight, Canada could become the third country in the World to legalize same-sex marriage. I’d like to think that it’s an attitude that most Canadians support, and that’s the kind of country I’d like to pay taxes in (ok, I’m too poor to pay taxes, but you know what I mean).

The bottom line is, where’s the party, yo? If there are going to be a whole whack of federally-recognised big gay weddings, I want to go to a big gay party. Sure, Toronto just finished the biggest Pride Week it’s ever had (culminating in a historical parade where Toronto’s chief of police marched in the parade for the first time evah), but I couldn’t go in, and there’ll still be Pride Weeks for quite some time.

On a sad note, I was kinda curious if Prince Edward Island would hold out longer than Alberta for the title of being Canada’s most bigoted province. Now, there’s just going to be a blanket-legalization. Pooh. My money would be on Alberta, by the way, just edging out PEI for the prize of “Bible Belt of Canada.”

Last note: I bet that big gay weddings will have big gay open bars. Mazel Tov!

Sunday, June 26, 2005

More Comfortable.

I've gotten over this morning's nausea (see below). I just wanted to drop a note about the weather. God, this is boring.

It's 30 degrees out, but because the humidity is rather low (circa 30%), it only feels like 33 with the Humidex. SO... even though it's about the same base temperature as the last heat wave we had, I don't feel like total crap. My glass of water is not sweating pools onto my desk, and I'm not soaking through my shirt. I just hope it stays about the same.

I have to go into school early tomorrow morning and fetch an edited draft from my advisor. I'm already quite tired and feel like I could sleep right now.

I'd suspect mono if I wasn't getting so little.

Ima Throw Up.

I bought a fake Toblerone from the grocery store. You know, “Switzerland” written prominently, honeyish nougat, obligatory triangles… It’s as big as one of those BIG Toblerones, but it’s only about $4. I get one every couple of months. Anyhow, I opened mine yesterday and had a couple of pieces, and then set it next to my desk. I went to bed for the night (9pm last night – I might have mono again), and this morning I wanted a little taste of something sweet after my breakfast (berries and yogurt). Blindly, I cracked off a piece and popped it in my mouth.

It’s quite warm here in Southern Ontario again this morning, so it was delicious and a little melty, as I expected. I went for another piece, which I deftly had to move up the plastic wrapper sleeve (of which I had only cut off the end). I wanted to see how many pieces were already broken off, so I looked inside the sleeve and there were a ton of little pieces (like, dust-sized) of chocolate on the inside of the wrapper.

They were moving.

Holy fuck. At first I thought they were those tiny spiders – you know the ones – tiny and usually red. No, not those. “Aphids?” I asked myself. These aphids were brown and I couldn’t see wings, even though they were tiny tiny tiny.

Yup. They were ants. Tiny ants – smaller than I’d ever seen. Swarming. All over the chocolate I had just eaten. As I write this, any number of tiny ants are dying in my stomach acid. Gross gross gross.

This is what I get for eating sweet before noon! It’s the universe’s way of punishing me.

So, now what do I do? Do I have to vacuum or something? I guess I will. In my last apartment, the shitty one, I got ants the week before I moved. They were bigger (normally-sized) black ones, though. I could see where they were getting in and watched them trail all over the carpet. I just wore shoes everywhere. Since I was pissed off with the landlord, it took a lot of discipline to not throw a handful of brown sugar all over the floor when I left.


Saturday, June 25, 2005

Just 'Cuz.

"Mrs. Robinson, you're trying to seduce me. Aren't you?"

How Bad Can a Cheese OD Be, Really?

Last night, after an awesome phone update from Lisa (she’s a superstar), I went up to Mike’s for supper, which we decided would consist solely of Poutine. We’ve done this twice before, and it’s been fun, but last night we both really overdid it. After overindulging, Mike was better after about twenty minutes, but I felt like ass for over half an hour.

I blame the cheese on my terrible cribbage showing which followed. I owe Mike a lot of money.

Anyhow, does anyone really know how bad an OD of cheese curds is? I’m fairly sure my GI tract is going to be backed up for quite some time.

Still, I think it’s worth it.

Catherine's Missing Days.

The last two days I have done no work. On Wednesday, I had a meeting with my advisor which went well. The next day, Thursday, I decided not to work and instead I attempted to bring my apartment back up to health code minimum standards. I did 4 loads of laundry, 3 batches of dishes (meaning, I had to dry the rack twice so I could continue to fill it). Finally, I generally tried to make things more perpendicular, which, everyone knows, gives the appearance of tidiness without the hassle of actually cleaning.

Yesterday, Friday, I got up and climbed the “Mountain” again. It feels good to make my heart potentially explode. When I go, I only climb it once. I could probably go twice, but I don’t yet. At the bottom, I met a lady there who climbs it 5 times a day, and she pointed to a lady coming down the steps who does it 10 times a morning. I have to remind you, there are over 200 steps straight up. Yikes!

Anyhow, I got home and started reminiscing about how great it was not to work the day before. It was really great. After about a week of rolling out of bed and stumbling to my computer to write, it was a decadent treat to not have to even open the GD thesis file. Sooo… I didn’t do any work yesterday, either.

I’m not terribly uptight about it, really. Feedback from my advisor has been good, I have well over 50 pages written already, and I think the last chapters will be considerably shorter than the first two.

Wednesday, June 22, 2005

Word to Your Father.

I just realised I didn’t write a sappy Father’s Day nod to my father last Sunday. This is typical, I think, of Father’s Day. Dads seem to live in the shadows of moms.

I spoke to 2 girlfriends and their Father’s Day call to their dads were strikingly similar to mine.
Typical call:

Daughter: Happy Father’s Day, Dad, you’re great!
Father: Aw, thanks. You’re great, too. [long pause] Wanna talk to your mother?

Mine went sorta like this:

Me: Happy Birthday! I mean, happy Father’s Day! [I’m not kidding, I said that.]
Dad: Thanks, m’girl. I actually forgot before Marilyn called this morning.
Me: What are you doing?
Dad: I’m doing a puzzle with your Uncle Wendall.
Me: [getting bored] Cool.
Dad: Any mice?
Me: None since the last time you asked. [The day previous.]
Dad: Ok, I’ll let you get back to your work.

My Dad’s awesome. He’s been dropping me emails almost every day for the last week because I think he’s afraid I’m going to have some sort of breakdown. This is historical: I had a monster snap the summer before I came to grad school. Yes, I’m stressed and afraid about the fall, but I’m actually too busy to think about it. Anyhow, Dad’s super sweet and supportive and, like Mum, life wouldn’t be quite right without him. Dad's father died when he was 12, and I can't imagine what that must have been like.

I found a new blog through Clublife (which I will not link to since I’m kinda tiring of it). This new one makes me laugh out loud a lot, and that's what it's really about, isn't it?

I went for a walk this morning, trying to combat the Scoliosis. I feel good. I climbed the stairs that go up the Niagara Escarpment. It's over 200 steps, so it really gets the heart pumpin'. I'll try to go again tomorrow, depending on how flooded with lactic acid my quads are.

Tuesday, June 21, 2005

The Basics.

Ok, so drinking to distract myself while writing is obviously out. It’s just not a good idea. Besides, I’m poor and I don’t have time to brew anything on my own. Mike suggests I combine Holly and Christine’s examples and eat coffee ice cream. Amenable.

I’m twenty pages into another chapter. One chapter down, three to go, plus the intro and conclusion. Last post I said I hated writing. I don’t totally hate it. Actually, it’s kinda cool to bring together a year of work into a mega-paper. This weekend is the one-year anniversary of me starting my fieldwork at the Lucy Maud Montgomery Institute Conference. Wow.

Ok, so here are some stats:
- In Religious Studies at McMaster, MA Theses can be no less than 60 pages and no more than 100 (well, you can push the upper limit, but it’s not a great thing to do).

- You must defend by the 24th of September, 2005, or you must pay for another semester of tuition (one of my classmates told me this: it’s not going to be an issue for me unless I get TB).

- If you defend and submit your thesis earlier than August 1st, the Grad Student Association reserves the right to revoke scholarship funding. Big whoop – in the summer, I only get about $550 a month anyway (but that just covers my rent and groceries, so I can’t let that happen).

Here is the chapter outline for my thesis. (This is in response to the never-ending stream of emails I get, e-yelling: “Tell us more about your thesis!!!”)

-Lucy Maud Montgomery and her Influence on Tourism to Prince Edward Island.
-Tourism as a Secular Pilgrimage to Prince Edward Island.
-Rejuvenative Qualities of Vacation on Prince Edward Island and their parallels to those Qualities in Religious Pilgrimage.
-Authenticity and its Importance to Vacation Experiences to Prince Edward Island.

I am now finished of the Authenticity chapter, and it is 35 pages long.

I am now working on the Secular Pilgrimage chapter and, while still in progress, is 20 pages already and I am yet to discuss the nominal issues that a lot of my informants had between “Capital ‘P’ Pilgrimage” as I called it (like to Lourdes, Medjugorje, Mecca, etc.), and secular pilgrimage (Graceland, Jim Morrison’s grave, Green Gables).

So, these pages are really snowballing and now the total is 55, not giving me a lot of extra room in the other 2 chapters, intro and extro. I’m hoping that L. M. Montgomery and the Rejuvenation chapters will be lighter, mostly because I’m not as comfortable with the topics. (I’m especially putting off the Montgomery chapter, knowing it’s going to be a lot of extra reading. Happily, I’ve made friends with a very helpful English PhD student here who is a Montgomery-phile.)

I do not want to trim this thesis.

Here’s my goal list, as if writing it out is going to make it “for reals.”

July 6th: Finished of complete first draft. (This involves me becoming a hermit and nursing the Scoliosis I’m getting from sitting all day – how do office workers do this?)

July 16th: Finish editing and revising process. (This is not a random date. I’d like to guilt-free read Harry Potter VI, thank you very much.)

July 22rd: Besides this being the day before my sister's birthday, this is the day Jackie arrives to faire une vacance avec moi et Michel. On va aller aux Etats-Unis pour voir un spectacle. She’s here for 9-10 days and I really don’t want to have to work while she’s here.

August 1st or so, Jackie departs, giving me a couple weeks to prepare my defence pitch (we have to deliver a 15-20 minutes speech about why our research is so effing cool and necessary) and study my thesis/ do some last-minute tweaking. Oh, and while I’m not doing all that, I have to pack up my apartment, find a new place to live, find a job, and not fall into a stressed stupor.

Parting note (if you've actually read this far - kudos!): Download and listen to War's "Spill The Wine." It's a great song.

Saturday, June 18, 2005

Quick Draw.

1) I have killed two fruit flies with my bare hands in the last hour. It's strange to experience the ego swell of besting something so tiny and agile. I just unsuccessfully tried to kill a third and I knocked over my sunscreen. I'll probably give myself a shiner by the end of the day. (cf #3)

2) The white and black of a word processing program seem especially stark after you've spent half an hour procrastinating by reading colourful blogs. (cf #3)

3) Above may be affected by the Malibou and Coke I'm drinking. Hey, Christine said she ate ice cream while writing her thesis. Holly drank coffee. Me, booze.

4) I hate writing so much. I have the skeletal outline all set up, but I just have to flesh it out. Why is it such a drag?

5) I spent a half hour this morning looking for work at universities in the Caribbean. I am attempting to fulfill my dream of spending my birthday on a beach. A warm beach.

Friday, June 17, 2005

Christine and Ivan.

I've converted another friend to Blogging. See sidebar for Christine's confessions of a vlog. If this was a pyramid scheme, I'd be getting slightly richer than Holly, but slightly less rich than Melanie, who converted me. Anyhow, for those of you who don't know her, she's an ex-classmate of mine also trapped in Hamilton, working in a gap year between MA and PhD (in Montreal).

I've not been able to use the bathroom sink for 2 days. I went upstairs (where renovations are being made to the apartment above mine) to tell the scary Russian super, Ivan, that the bathroom sink was draining slowly. He sent his little assistant dude, who we have named "Little Dude" down to look at it. Little Dude took the U-bend and left a bucket under the disconnected pipes! He said he'd be back yesterday to fix it. Nada.

Yesterday I tracked him down and he said Ivan would have to weld something today. Nothing. I found Little Dude again today to ask what was up and why I had to brush my teeth in the kitchen sink. He said Ivan told him to tell me that he would fix it on Sunday. I told him to tell Ivan to come talk to me.

I was not impressed.

So, Ivan came by about an hour ago. I asked what the eff, and he went to show me that I could use the bathroom sink. He turned on the water, we watched it drain into the bucket, he picked up the bucket and flushed the water down the toilet.

What a freaking waste of water! I'm not going to use 25 litres of water to get rid of 25ml of spit and rince.

So, I said, "Why can't you fix this today or yesterday?"

He said, "Today, I busy. Tomorrow, I go on vacation. Sunday, I come in the morning and fix."

So, basically, he's spending his time today fixing up another apartment so he can make money off someone new, while he's putting off fixing the apartment that he's already getting rent from.

I think he understood from my tone that I was not impressed, but, I wouldn't push it for two reasons.

A) Note yesterday's post. I'm a pussy.
b) Three nights ago we heard him yelling at a guy out front of the building. I'm not talking about sternly discussing something. He was bellowing, hollering, at this guy, who, from the sounds of things was pretty stunned.

Bottom line, I'm here alone now and I don't want to be on the recieving end of a full-blown Russian shitfit.

Thursday, June 16, 2005

Ben Wilson: Man of Mystery.

I know the name, but I can't place it. I got an invitation to one of those friends networks (hi5, I think), from a guy named Ben Wilson in Beverly Hills. I never sign up to those things, by the way. I don't have time to waste with new things. I waste enough time on old things. AND, it was on my old Hotmail account, which I only check every couple of weeks.

Anyhow, if anyone knows who Ben Wilson is, drop me a note because I'm scratching my head.

Still no constant internet, but I think we're going to go try to get the router replaced this morning.

Jem's flying home today. I'm a little peeved because he asked me to drive his car back from the airport for him (to save him $25-30 on a cab), but when I asked if I could go pick up some groceries afterwards (which I haven't done yet since I returned), he said no. So, he trusts me to drive his car just enough to take advantage and save him money, but not enough to go 5 extra blocks and get food for myself. I think I have to tell him that that's not cool. I probably won't, though, and he'll never know. I'm a pussy.

Wednesday, June 15, 2005

Internet Problems.

So, our router is effed, so only one of us can be on the internet at the same time. I think the heat pan-fried it. Jem thinks the warrantee ran out.

Anyhow, now I have to drag the router, the modem, and the power cord out of the closet across the living room and stretch it so I can unplug the connection from the modem to the router and plug it into my CPU. I was on the Bell support line for more than half an hour yesterday, setting up some sort of proxy manual broadband connection or some sort of BS. "Alex," the helper guy, was everything I expected: kinda huffy, impatient and barely masking his contempt for my stupidity. It was hilarious.

So, now I have to do all my internet stuff for the day before Jeremy wakes up. He's always online because he's always editing stuff, chatting with people, reading stuff, and looking up information on his current very odd obsession: Pumas. Not the shoe. Sigh.

Bottom line: if people are emailing me and it takes me a while to reply, this is why.

Tuesday, June 14, 2005


I’m going to do another multi-post post to fill folks in on my eventful week, in backwards succession, to keep the blogland accustomed continuity.

And the Walls Came A-Tumblin’ Down.

Yesterday, after a weekend of preparing my longest chapter to turn in to my advisor, I went to school. My office, in the basement of a stone building, was wonderfully cool. My advisor had very few problems with my chapter, and they are, for the most part, very easily rectified. When I was there, I heard the rumble of thunder and knew we were in for another lightning storm, so I went out to the entrance of the building, which, I guess can be called a “portico” – a covered entrance.

I watched then rain being chucked out of the sky and people running for cover. It was awesome. There were plenty of great rumbles of thunder and a few good flashes. Then, there was a dirty great KERRACK!!! as if the sky was being ripped asunder (I’m being biblical here – please don’t think I’d usually say something like that). It scared me, which made me happy. I wondered if lightning struck on campus. I love lightning storms.

We’re due for more today and tomorrow. Zippity!!!

Barely Seventeen and Barely Dressed.

I got off the plane in Hamilton and was instantly hit by a wall of air that can only be described as, oh, I dunno… breath. It was like someone was exhaling on me. Perfect, thought I, this is perfect. I love that the weather here is spiritually correct for the City of Ass.

It’s been c40 degrees with the humidity for the last 4 days. So, now I’m wearing shorts. I haven’t worn shorts since I saw a picture of myself wearing shorts. I have to. It’s gross. Oh, another fun fact: I’ve been drinking three times as much water as I usually do, but peeing half as much. Why? Because I’m sublimating!

I’m constantly covered with a sheen of perspiration and humidity and the physical incarnation of my hatred for this town.

Anyhow, it’s lit a fire under me to finish this GD thesis and get the hell outta Dodge.

Prince Edward Island.

I napped for a little bit, then met Hannah Jones, Lisa, Jackie, and Mike for a few drinks at the Gahan House. The service was uncharacteristically bad, but it was good to see people again. Mike was having a busy week volunteering for a teaching conference of some sort at UPEI, and the other three girls are part of the working week, so we were not out very late.

The next day, I went to see Grammy with Dad. Thank goodness I wasn’t alone with her because she is well out of her head. With her dementia, they say she’s “confused” about, well, everything, but I don’t think she’s even aware that she’s confused. She just got back from lunch when we saw her and she said she’d been at the hairdresser for over two hours.

Then I picked up Marilyn and we went to Stoneware for a gift for my advisor. Stoneware wasn’t even open for the season yet (strange for early June), so we went to the Dunes ($$$!). There was some great stuff there, but I’m living well below the poverty line, so no to the Dunesware. I saw Hannah Jones’ mum out there, though, so that was cool, because her mum is really stinkin’ hip.

Then I went to Hashem’s Variety for a new pair of sneakers. This is a cool PEI phenomenon. Mr. Hashem is a jogger, but was sick of how expensive and hard-to-get good running shoes were on PEI, so he starts ordering in some sneakers for local running fanatics. Now a lot of people shop there because it’s no-bullshit shopping and he’s not there to make a killing – just to provide good sneakers. Um, the guy at the cash, who I think was Mr. Hashem’s son, was really nice and handsome. Yup.

That night Lisa, Jackie and I hurriedly gathered for a chat and a game of cards, and then I had to go to bed. The next day we had to go to Moncton to catch my plane back to Assland. Oh, I mean, Hamilton. We did some shopping, but of course I couldn’t find anything to fit my wide ass.

Marilyn was miffed because she didn’t fit into the size she previously wore. Not miffed. She was more… stewing. It cheeses me off because when she doesn’t fit into a 10, she can go up to a size 12. Me, if a 16 doesn’t fit me, I’m SOL because that’s as high as the normal size spectrum goes. It’s go to plus sizes, which are cut improperly for me (they’re usually cut for 300 lb women who are 5’4”, not 6’ tall and “curvy” like me), or nothing at all. At least she can still buy clothes. Do I sook? A little, but then I get over it. Maybe it’s because my hands are tied, I resign myself to it.

Anyhow, I was surprised how sad I was saying goodbye to Mum and Marilyn. It was saying goodbye to them, the East Coast, the love, and I was also sad because I returning to Assland.

Nova Scotia.

We drove and drove. We saw another moose in Cape Breton. Well, two meece, I guess, since we saw a calf on the side of the road. It was about the size of a small deer, but all moosey instead. It had a leg off. Kinda macabre.

We stopped at the Smitty’s in Canso for breakfast and I got the Texas Skillet. I tasted that for the rest of the day. It will be known as the “Last. Texas. Skillet. Ever.”

We missed the PEI ferry by 10 minutes, so instead of waiting for 2-3 hours, we decided to drive around to the bridge. Whatever. I’m glad we were in a minivan, because we could see over the side and watch PEI approach. Beautiful.


Dad flew out of Gander for a meeting in Toronto or Ottawa or somewhere, and then got a flight back to Charlottetown, so it was just Mum, Marilyn and I driving back across the province to the Port Aux Basques ferry. We left Grandad, which was really hard because he got weepy. He’s really lonely since Gran died, so he really likes when people come to visit.

It was hard to leave him.

We drove and drove and drove, and we were making good time. We saw two moose, or, meece, properly pluralized. We were almost in Port Aux Basques and Mum decided we had enough time to go visit her friend from nursing, Jane Pearcey (sp?). As we driving into Stephenville, Mum told us her story.

“All she ever wanted out of life was to get married and have children, but then her father died and she moved to Stephenville to take care of her mother. Stephenville is not a town to find a husband.” So, Auntie Jane, as we always knew her, never got married, never had children, and now that her mother died a couple of years ago, she lives alone in Stephenville, of all places.

The worst time in the trip was when Mum said that Grandad is lonely now that Gran’s gone. Jane said she understands because when she goes out, she knows there’s no one to return to. Mum, unhelpfully, said, “Oh, I know. When Lamont goes out of town for a few days, I really miss having the company.” To me, that’s more hurtful than helpful. I don’t know if Mum really understands Jane’s feelings of loneliness.

Anyhow, that was especially hard for me to see, because I think ending up like Auntie Jane is my greatest fear. She was just so lovely. It was just really difficult.

That night, we stopped in Port Aux Basques for some food before catching the overnight passage on the ferry. I was already kinda weepy re: my fears and Auntie Jane, and Marilyn barked at me because I made a comment about her calling Mike all the time. For the record, she was totally in the right to bark at me. Anyhow, it made me cry so much. I felt so ashamed that I was crying, and I was trying to cover it up by saying the food was spicy.

The combination of leaving Newfoundland (again), leaving Grandad, seeing Auntie Jane and then being reminded that not only do I not have anyone special to call, I’ve never really had anyone special to call and I’m not getting any younger, made me a wreck. I hate being so emotional and giving in to fears like that, but I can’t bottle stuff up well like other people.

Does this count as my “I’m lonely” rant for another month? Crap. I don’t want to be this person. I’m one pathetic point away from getting 3 cats and calling them my children.


I love Newfoundland. It’s physically beautiful in every way that Prince Edward Island is not. It’s very hard and rugged, but I think that if PEI has the market cornered on bucolic and pastoral, Newfoundland is just… magnificent. The scale is just so much bigger. There are mountains and lakes. It was warm and lovely when I was there. All the gardens were just starting to bloom – I caught my second spring of the year.

We went to Mackles, my grandparent’s cabin (cottage, in PEI-speak). It’s along the old railway. I remember, as kids, we had to walk to the cabin from a parking area because the train tracks were still down. Now the rails are gone and people drive to their cabins. A couple of kilometres “up the way,” there’s an old train tressel that we used to lie on and watch trout swim in the shadows below. One summer my cousin Michal (yes, spelled that way) went caveman on us and tried to spear fish my standing in the shallows. He was not very successful, needless to say.

I was only in Newfoundland for 3 full days. I had to do some schoolwork, so I was reading and organising notes some of the time, but I had some sitting-around time, too.

The Surprise.

So, Mum didn’t know I was coming to Newfoundland. It’s a chronic thing I do: surprise her. I don’t really like not telling her I’m coming home, but it’s fun to try to trick her. Usually, though, she knows with her Mom spidey-sense that I’m planning something. This time, though, was excellently executed. She was really clueless. She didn’t know either Marilyn or me were coming. SO, Dad dropped us off up the street and went into my Grandad’s house. We cut through Aunt Patsy and Uncle Eg’s house. We visited with them for a moment, then I left Marilyn there and went to Grandad’s.

I knocked a couple of times on the door and let myself in, as we do. Dad was at the kitchen table and Mum poked her head around the corner to see who was coming in.

Anyhow, she swore a lot less than I thought she was going to. She cried and hugged me for a really long time. I went in to see Grandad, who was sitting in “his chair” finishing up his supper. He was really surprised and that was almost as great as surprising Mum. It was great to see him. He’s a really cool guy who totally loves to tell stories and gush over his great-grandchildren.

Then Mum asked if I’d seen Aunt Pat. I lied and said no. She said, “let me go in first.” Aunt Patsy and Uncle Eg live next door to my grandad. See, my Grandad’s brother married Gran’s sister, so two brothers married two sisters. They are really close, live next door, and you can imagine how close my Mum and her siblings were with her cousins. They are like double cousins! Anyhow, on a sad note, you can also probably imagine how much it hurt when my Gran died – it threw off the family a lot. Besides her being a total matriarch, the foursome of best friends/family was cut down to a threesome.

Back on track… Mum went in and said, something like, “Look what I found!” to introduce me, and she then she saw Marilyn and knew she had been duped. It was great!!! Mum dragged Marilyn away to see Grandad and I stuck in the other Butt household to chat with Aunt Pat and Uncle Eg (Edgar, btw). They are kinda like my extended grandparents, so it was great to see them, too.

That night I slept my face off. I got up at 4am that morning, of course, that’s 5:30am in Newfoundland, but still…

St. John’s Arrival.

Carolyn met me at the airport. I saw her and kinda… well, I burst into tears. I was so glad to be back in Newfoundland and I hardly ever see her, so the combination was a little too much for my usually weak emotions. It was great to visit with her, and it was a super-nice day, so we sat outside and chatted. She told me about how her internship went at a local high school. It sounds great, and I’m jealous of the non-dead-end nature of her studies.

We were waiting at the carousel for my luggage and there were two youngish (i.e. 30ish) guys chatting in front of us. A lady came up to them, handed one a set of keys, and said, “You left these on your table,” I guess of a lounge or something. He said, “Oh, thank you, my love!” And I welled up again. It’s that kind of affection and familiarity amongst strangers that I miss about the East Coast, but especially Newfoundland.

Eventually, Marilyn arrived, so we all chatted some more. Dad had a meeting in the city that day, and he drove my cousin Brigitte down to St. John’s to pick up some stuff from her apartment. He arrived and we were whisked away, with not a lot of time to say goodbye to Carolyn. Still, it was really great to see her, and I’m glad to hear all is well with her and her family.

Early Morning.

On Friday the 3rd, I got up at 4am to leave at 5am for a 6:45am flight. Jeremy, as I mentioned, was good enough to drive me up on “the mountain,” where the Hamilton “International” Airport resides. (There’s a once-a-day flight to Buffalo, therefore, “International.”)

The flight got off without event (besides my confiscated IKEA scissors that I forgot to take out of my carry-on). Hamilton-Ottawa. Ottawa-Halifax. Halifax-St. John’s. Whew.

I sat down in the Halifax (legitimately) International Airport and Marilyn came up and hugged me! I forgot she was there at the same time as me. We left on different planes, but still, it was a cool pre-visit visit.

Sunday, June 12, 2005

At It Again.

It's early again, and it's really not much of an escape from the heat. Exhibit a: it's 7:20am and it already feels like 30 degrees with the humidex.

Here's a little treat for those of you who have streaming video and your speakers hooked up.

OK, back to work.

Saturday, June 11, 2005

Hammer and Tongs.

I’m back in Hamilton. I hate it here. It’s hot as heck. (38 with the Humidex, and a smog advisory.) It had a great time on the East Coast, but now I have a dumpload of work to do, so I’ll give updates probably on Monday. I have a meeting with my advisor on Monday and I’d like to whip out another chapter before then. Har har har.

The good thing is: my hatred for Hamilton is a great motivator to get this GD thesis over and done with.

Thursday, June 02, 2005


I have made a list of things I need to take home with me tomorrow. It’s not a lot. The smallest suitcase I have is stupidly large for its contents. In fact, there are more items of “product” than items of clothing. Ah, product. I know something’s going to leak and make a mess, so I have to think about wrapping and compartmentalizing so there will be as little mess as possible. Last summer my makeup remover popped and made a school text all accordion-y.

The plan is now: Jeremy is going to drive me to the airport tomorrow at 5am, which is awesome of him. He really likes sleeping, so this is even more of an imposition than the task of driving someone to the airport usually is. Well, I like sleeping, too, but I wants to see my fam.

Jeremy has been popping one sheet of bubble wrap for an impossibly long time. I think he’s got more than he showed me, because it won’t stop. OR it’s a sheet of micro-tiny bubbles under incredible pressure. Each pop would be like a needle stabbing your fingers. Cool.

Anyway, It doesn’t really bug me, but the landlord’s omnipresent children have been playing with those exploding balls that you throw at the pavement and they snap (like caps but not – you know the ones?), so I keep thinking they’re throwing them at the building or something. I just want any opportunity to kick those kids’ asses. Mike said he thought he saw the “little” one pee on a jungle gym. I can’t corroborate.

I saw Mike off this morning. I assume he got home. (?)

Well, back to reality… Carolyn is meeting me at the airport for a little visit! St. John’s is 4 hours away from Glovertown where my Grandad lives, so to go down to see her would basically be a whole day, and I’m only there for 3, so I want to stick close to home with Mum, Dad, Marilyn, and Grandad.

Anyhow, Newfoundland, here I come. I’m pretty stoked. My family used to go every Christmas and summer when we were kids, but then when Marilyn and I got summer jobs (her before me – she’s a worker), summers fell away, and the Christmases were less and less frequent, especially since Gran died 3 years ago. Well, when my sister got married last summer, she wanted it to be in Newfoundland and I can’t blame her in the least.

It was a great time, and going back to Newfoundland in the summer made me really nostalgic, and not uncharacteristically weepy. I watched the ferry dock at Port Aux Basques from the deck that first morning and I couldn’t stop crying. I don’t know why. The sun was rising, so it was beautiful, but it was more than that. I think it’s a mon patrie moment. I think I scared Mike and Jackie, though.

Well, ZIPPITY for me coming home, and I’ll see a lot of people soon. I haven’t sent out the email like Anna, Carolyn and Amanda, because, well, I’m lazy, and I’m sure my coming home would cause riots or something. I wish I was staying a couple of days later so I could crash Anna’s sister’s wedding dance (if there is going to be one). I love wedding dances so much. It’s a great time to dance with friends and it’s not in a gross meat market (usually). BUT, I really shouldn’t even be taking this week off in my writing period, so the week it will remain.

10pm – time to pack and go to bed. I’ll try to post if I can, but it’s not gonna keep me up nights.

Wednesday, June 01, 2005

Today's Goal.

Do an assload of work.

The end.