As I was driving back from Anna's bridal shower today, the sun was shining in the western sky and everything was aglow in that fresh spring light that makes you believe that there's no such thing as rain or haze. The shower was in Stoney Creek, outside of Hamilton. Hamilton is not a beautious site as far as Canadian cities go, and Hamilton Harbour is something of an aquatic tribute to industry, but the day was so outstanding that even the smokestacks belching toxins seemed somehow less intrusive. There are points along the drive from Hamilton to Toronto that offer unparalelled views of Lake Ontario, especially off the skyway bridge. I could see so clearly that even Toronto, though shrouded somewhat by the haze of pollution, twinkled in the amazing light. The water was almost unmoved by wind and was the most glorious colour. Nearly cobalt blue, it was as though the water had taken the bright blue of the sky and gave it richness and depth. It was the colour I want to paint the 1954 Studebaker I will one day own. I wish there had been a place for me to pull over, to walk down to enjoy the waning afternoon, but the QEW, and indeed most southwestern Ontario highways, is not conducive to such whims. I enjoyed the view as best I could and wondered at how awesome the shoreline must have looked, not that long ago, when there were no condominiums, strip-malls, factories or smelters. What we have done to the shoreline is unforgivable, but today, there was still much beauty to be had if you knew where to look.

Anna is Rick's sister, the youngest of the three kids. She's getting married in May and today was her shower. It was the most extraordinary shower I, in my limited experience, have ever been to. She's marrying an Italian and my gosh, do Italians ever know how to throw a party. There were around 150 women - yes, THAT many - and little girls and there were tons of prizes and favours for everyone. Games were played, which were very funny, and three courses plus dessert and wine made by Anna's father. Truth be told, this was more done up than many of the weddings I've ever been to. I sat at a table with the groom-to-be's sisters, mother, and Darlene (Anna's mother), and all the women were great fun, except one of the sisters very bratty daughter. I wanted to take this little girl, turn her upside-down and dunk her pissy little head into a toilet. She had moments of charm and cuteness, but they were followed immediately by scowls and stomping, huffing and the constant threat that she might just throw a tantrum. The meaning of the word 'no' was lost on her, and not for want of her mother and aunts trying. Anyway, the baby and the older girl at my table were nice and pleasant, no pushing, flouncing, or whining. Anyway, it was mostly quite a bit of fun and when Anna stood up to thank everyone, she started to cry. It was sweet.

Today, on the CBC's DNTO, they're playing anti-war songs, several of which are available on the internet. It's pretty interesting and poignant. I'd offer you the websites, but I'm afraid I missed them. The one that is currently playing, which I assume is called "Jacob's Ladder, not in my name", but I could be wrong, I really like. Oh, it's Chumbawumba. Well, there you go. Anyway, it's been excellent listening while I've been working on Booboo's thank you cards. I'm supposed to use a pseudonym for him because, well, I dunno, so I'm going with Booboo, who is not to be confused with Ryan (Poopy, also the nickname of family cat, Melody). Of course, if you delve back into my archives, you'll easily figure out who "Booboo" is.

Last night, Rick took me out for a movie and dinner. It was nice. On my suggestion, we went to see Miyazaki's Spirited Away, the film that won for best animated feature. It was dubbed to English, but this time I didn't really mind since the voice acting was very good. I'd still like to see it subtitled, though, just to see what was changed. It was beautifully animated, no surprise coming from Miyazaki (Princess Mononoke and My Neighbour Totoro among many others), and decidedly weird-ass, also no surprise. It was funny, but also sad and lovely, and makes no attempt to keep it all straight for the viewer. The audience is expected to keep up with the oddities and quick direction changes. If you can't put aside your sense of reality, don't bother. If Crouching Tiger bothered you because of the improbably flying, ect., first, you need to loosen up and, second, this movie is way more bizarre. Sure, it's animated, which helps bridge that gap, but it's probably not for everyone. Anyway, I can't gush enough about the movie, so I'll just say that it's great and if you're my friend, chances are, you'll like it.

Spring is here, yes indeed ! I noticed, yesterday, that things were starting to poke out of the soil and this morning, I woke up to the mingled sounds of robins, blue jays, and crows. And Willi.

I worry for the jays and crows as they are highly vulnerable to West Nile with a 0% chance of surviving the disease. The idea of a world without them is quite depressing. I can only hope, though, that like so many things in nature, a balance is reached. I love crows.

"Ooh, Ms. Bris - a SPARKLY !"

Anyway, there's about a 90% likelihood that my pal Stewart will be moving into my apartment when Nick leaves. We're looking at May, I think. Stew hasn't actually come to see the place yet, but he will on Wednesday, which will give us some MUCH needed cleaning time. I will be moving into Nick's room when he's gone, and I've already got plans for the walls - the Satanic red paint is mostly going to go. I just can't take it in such doses. I think I'll leave one wall, though, and I bought a bunch of greatly reduced goodies from the ROM shops, which are closing in a couple of days. I have a wide array of rubber lizards and such, as well as a nice fake plant that can be cut up and used as wall cover. Trust me, it sounds weird, but it's going to be cool, and it's only going to take up a small corner of wall space.

Ever have those moments when you're doing something like driving your car, or sitting on the loo, or staring at nothing while you're walking down the street, and you get struck by an almost-inspiration? It's not quite a fully formed thought, not something that you can easily write down because it's only half there. It twitches and tickles in the peripheries of your mind, taunting you, trying to make you bring it into cohesion and just when you think you've got it - it's gone again, dancing somewhere else. Vague ideas come to mind and you try to make sense of them, but none of them come together the way that one almost-inspiration would, you just know it; if only you could wrap your head around it...

I've been having a lot of those lately.

I'm a grumpy bear today. I woke up with a pain in my shoulder that I'm vaguely aware of having caused at some point in the night. I lost my temper with Richard, because my hours are really sucking for April. Peter thinks I spend too much time on the Internet, based on the last day I was in, when I didn't take a lunch. Whatever. At least I look cute today. Well, except for my surly expression.

The oily liberation of Iraq has begun. Oily, as in greasy... and, as in oil. You mean to say people actually thought this was about the liberation of the Iraqis? Oh dear.

Money is really short this month - I made enough to cover rent, but eating will be a privaledge, not a right. I don't know, but I guess I really can't go on as I am. I've got a subscription to the Toronto Star and it has a nice fat jobs classified section, which I have taken to perusing regularly. I'm tired of being a data monkey and the fact that I really like the people I work with can only take me so far. I need a change very badly. This would be a good time for something awesome to drop out of the sky, you know? Maybe a lotto win or a sudden and marvelous career change, or a chance to shine... *looks up; sees the ceiling of membership* Hello? Anybody listening?

On a keen and positive note, my cafeshops store is now open ! I've got lots of MiRSCH related products including some prints. There will be more coming soon, and chances are, there will be a second shop with more fancy stuff to add. I have no idea if anyone will buy anything, but here's hoping. So, without further ado, visit my store !!

Sent to me by my mother, I decided that it was worth posting in here.

Subject: FW: UK Observer
Date: Mon, 24 Mar 2003 10:12:16 -0500

Online commentary: Democracy in Iraq? Peace and reconstruction? Hasn't Tony been paying attention on his trips to Washington?

Terry Jones
Sunday March 23, 2003

Dear Tony,
I'm terribly worried that you may be losing your grip on reality. For example, a few days ago you went on television and announced that after the US has bombed Baghdad "We shall help Iraq move towards democracy." Now I don't want to be a wet blanket, Tony, but was it a leprechaun who suggested this idea to you?

Since the Second World War, the US has bombed China, Korea, Guatemala, Indonesia, Cuba, Guatemala (again), Peru, Laos, Vietnam, Cambodia, Guatemala (third time lucky), Grenada, Lebanon, Libya, El Salvador, Nicaragua, Iran, Panama, Iraq, Kuwait, Somalia, Bosnia, Afghanistan and Yugoslavia - in that order - and in not a single case did the bombing produce a democratic government as a direct result.

Why do you think it will be any different in Iraq? Or did your fairy godmother promise you this along with a golden coach? In the same TV appearance you also went a bit dreamy and said that you were going to "put the money from Iraqi oil in a UN trust fund so that it benefits Iraq and no one else." Hasn't anyone told you that they've been debating how to use the Iraqi oil field money in the White House for months, and there is a strong body of opinion that thinks it's a good idea to use it to cover the expense of the US military operation, which, let's face it, is going to be colossal. $6-$9 billion a month - that's a lot of money for a nation in the economic mess George W Bush's America is currently in.

And then what on earth did you say to that nice Clare Short to persuade her not to resign? She came out of your office saying that you'd "persuaded President Bush that there must be a UN resolution on creating a UN mandate for the reconstruction of Iraq." Now come on! You've been playing with the pixies haven't you? You know perfectly well that President Bush and his people don't give a goblin's cuss for the UN. Richard Perle, who happens to be chairman of Mr. Bush's defence policy board, only this week called the UN "the chatterbox on the Hudson" - despite the fact that it's on the East River (hope his geography is a bit more accurate when he starts ordering the bombing!) Perle was penning an obituary for the United Nations and he didn't seem too sad to see it go. "What will die is the fantasy of the UN as the foundation of a new world order...the liberal conceit of safety through international law administered by international institutions."

And what will replace the UN, in Mr. Perle's fairy tale world? Why the good ole USA of course! It will administer worldwide justice and punishment in the interests of "a new century favourable to American principles and interests". Not much comfort there for us elves and brownies. You know Mr Bush and his advisors can't wait to sell the UN building off as a luxury apartments with stunning views of the East River - sorry, Richard! - the Hudson. (I'm sure they're going to swap the names so as to bring the chairman of the defence policy board's remarks into line with reality.)

And, Tony, I hope you didn't persuade Clare to stay in your government by promising that she could be in charge of all the UN reconstruction and humanitarian aid, because you know that's only going to happen in dreamland.

Mr Bush and his chums want this to be an exclusively US business. They're only allowing American companies to bid for the £640 million worth of reconstruction planned (paid for no doubt by Iraqi oil) and that includes running the health and education services. Poor Clare is going to have a big empty office and nothing to do in it. What's more the UN won't continue its humanitarian aid (which currently feeds 60% of Iraqis) because the yanks will insist on US troops delivering it. Washington boasts that its soldiers, when they've killed enough people, will magically transform into kindly aid workers. But Justin Forsyth, the head of policy at Oxfam says: "We don't want our aid equipment to be offloaded off the back of a US military lorry, because if we were to do that we would be seen as part of a belligerent force."

So all little Clare Short will have got for compromising her principles and making herself a laughing stock is a short trip to Washington and somebody else's hanky to blow her nose in. And I bet you don't make her Deputy Prime Minister in the next reshuffle. Now I can't believe that you have done any of this deliberately. It must be those fairy folk, whispering in your ear. So why don't you look into your heart and see if there is any glimmer of truth and honour left in there, and then chase those goblins and elves away. It could just work.

Best wishes,
Terry Jones

Terry Jones writes regularly for The Observer. To all those readers who have written in to ask if this Terry Jones had anything to do with Monty Python, the answer is yes.

This past weekend was Ad Astra. It was a good time, but completely exhausting. Neither Nicole nor I recall a convention so thoroughly tiring as this one. When Sunday rolled around, we were barely able to communicate. That said, I did do some bouncing when I discovered that my Viking Women ink painting had sold. I was even more excited to learn that Nicole had bought it. She said, when we were driving home after closing up the booth, "I can safely say that I bought the only thing that I really wanted." Thanks, Nicole !

To stroke my ego a little, I think I was the most hit on at this convention than I've ever been at any other. It starts with the clothing, but once they discover I'm approachable, wow. I was into invite only rooms, and enjoying the perks that came with, such as the rowdy blender party in the not-the-con-suite and the green room where I got to enjoy a very smooth, delicious cuban cigar. Anyway, enough stroking. It was a great convention at which to meet people since it wasn't huge and overpowering like so many are. I got to mingle with everyone. It helps to be friends with Nicole, too, since she knows just about every person to have ever attended any Toronto-based convention.

My friend, Kelly, came up from Kitchener-Waterloo to visit on Saturday, and she spent the night at my place. It was her first convention and I think she enjoyed herself quite a bit. She bought a boudoir corset and lacy velvet coaty-thing from Nicole and since I was given my pinstripe corset that day, we wore our lovelies all about the con. The three of us (Nicole, included) were interviewed for some television something or other, I can't remember what it was, but we got to talk about fandom and how it has influenced us, etc. When asked "What is the master of all fandom?" I first answered, "Fanfiction," but then changed my answer: "No, the Internet !" Afterall, it is the Internet that has allowed the fen to find each other.

Kelly and I went out to Mississauga for a Realms get-together, but no one showed up, so we had a drink and some dinner and went back to my home. While at first disappointed that no one showed up, we quickly decided to enjoy some one-on-one girl time and that was nice. We did a lot of laughing, sharing our dumb-people stories, mine from the ROM and hers from working at a travel insurance company.

What else is new... I dunno. The Academy Awards were on last night. I watched about two thirds of it. The dresses were generally low-key, mostly black, and very elegant. A number of awards went the way I thought they should, and the competition was quite stiff. U2 played their nominated song and Bono sucked. He's destroyed his voice. There were many sentiments expressed for peace and the safe return of the troops, and Michael Moore, who won for Bowling for Columbine, brought up all the documentary film-makers who'd been nominated and made a very strong anti-war statement. He was answered with cheers and jeers from the audience. That was a good moment.

People have very skewed ideas of what is scary and what is not. Listening to the radio, which is covering, almost non-stop, the humiliation of Iraq, we got to hear the sound of explosions and fire power. Michael Enright, the broadcaster, said that it sounded 'fearsome', which it did (hello, the sounds of bombs dropping don't inspire images of flower-filled fields), and was immediately told by one of the military interviewees, "I would say the complete opposite..." He went on to explain how this was the sound of a limited strike, etc., etc., but give us a break ! If you're in a city that is being blasted, you'd be terrified. The end.

Shit head.

It's a very awkward place to be, my head. We discussed it at the folding party last night, too. How can we honestly want allied soldiers to die? Yet, part of my hopes that it comes down to street-to-street fighting so that they can feel the devestation that they have wrought upon Iraq? I don't like to think about it because I'm not supposed to wish anyone dead... The USA and Britain pushed for this, despite Iraqi co-operation, despite international out-cry. This is a theatre-war and more than anything, that is what makes me mad.

Here is my dilemma, outlined perfectly by Wil Wheaton in this entry on his site. I suggest that you read it in its entirety, as it says a lot. I don't want to keep on about this, or I'm going to end up in a rant. I have to get back to preparing for Ad-Astra, anyway.

The Gaggle of Grannies is at the ROM today, working in membership, and I kid you not, they're talking about Churchill and the Second World War again. There is a new face and she has an accent of some sort, possibly Germanic, so they'd better be careful about what they say. Well, at least they don't feel that Bush is remotely similar to Churchill. Whew, like that was even a possibility.

I'm having some kind of allergic reaction on my hands. I get this sometimes, always localised to the skin between my fingers and the heel of my thumb and soft fleshy part below my pinky near the wrist. It's related to something I'm either washing with or touching, but unfortunately, that could be just about anything. It's wickedly itchy, the reaction bringing up tiny little blisters that drive me insane. It's completely irritating and I'm sure that scratching the rash only makes it worse, but if I don't scratch, it keeps on itching. Ahh ! It is probably a soap that is doing this. Gar.

Last night, I went to A&C's for fun and profit. Wait, no, that's wrong. Fun. Just fun. I got to see the enormous pile of photos developed from the disposable cameras that had been placed on the tables. There were a lot of very bad pictures. There were some that weren't so bad and there were even a few that were pretty good. Carrie and I were completely annoyed that the final ten minutes of Law and Order was pre-empted by Lloyd Robertson and the CTV news team to talk about absolutely nothing. "In a little less than twenty-five minutes, we will be going live to President Bush..." So? Did you -have- to cut away? So, Carrie and I flipped from one channel to the next, only to see the same camera shot of Bagdad at dawn on each one, with stuffy people talking about relatively nothing. We decided to watch Bush's talk, and honestly, the man is such an uninspired speaker that we had tuned out in under a minute in order to look at old drawings that Carrie had done. The one thing I learned in the whole time we watched the reports, live from Bagdad, was that people were still getting into their cars and heading to work, the city did not grind to a halt because some missiles were dropped. I felt very bad for the people of Bagdad, actually, trying to go about their lives while two crazy dictators flexed their muscles for dominance.

So, the war has begun. It was ushered in by no videogame pictures of anti-aircraft fire, the city lit by green night vision lenses. I am incredibly sad that it has come to this. That the USA is staging this pointless war in order to stake out a claim as the mightiest power in the world... I can only hope that the New Rome doesn't take three hundred years to fall. What will be left of the world then?

I don't want to talk about it anymore.

It has been confirmed ! Of course, I do not have commenting on this weblog, as I waste enough time in my day-to-day existence and certainly don't need to respond to people's comments... (I signed up for a comment service, and theoretically, I just have to insert the code, only I can't quite take the step for the above reason.) Anyway, I was greeted by a random, or at least semi-random email in my inbox. I shall reproduce it here. The weird interconnectedness thing is busy at work here, I guess, and that's what makes it neat:

Hi Maya,

I think we've met maybe once, my boyfriend Ryan went to high school with
you and Nick? At any rate, I read you entry about their wedding, and it's
pretty cool that they were married by father Massel... he and my dad went
to grade school together for a couple of years, and he's my youngest
brother's godfather.

Um, yeah, just a bit of randomness to brighten your day, I guess. :)

Jessica

Anyway, in other news, I took Rick for sushi last night, as it was a bit of an anniversary treat for us. I still haven't given him his gift, but hopefully, I'll get it to him by the end of the month. We'll see. I'm so insanely busy and poor.

I worked out some details for this weekend. I am showing art in the art auction at Ad-Astra this weekend. I'll be helping Nicole with her booth, too, so that will be fun. Hopefully, I'll actually manage to make some sales. That would be awesome. I know my work is good, so it's frustrating that people won't buy it. You know? Anyway, I keep trying and maybe this weekend will show a break-through.

One final thing, it seems that Nick is here for April, as well, since he hasn't actually found a place for real. He's looking, but there's nothing for sure at this point. This gives me more time to find a new roommate, or make plans for where I can go, though as we know, I don't want to move again. No sirree. There is a possibility that I could move into Megan's place, but only if the the woman who plans to take Rachel's room (Megan's sister) decides that she can't handle living with a smoker. I know I can live with Megan, and her place is so gorgeous that I can more than cope with living with a smoker again. We'll see. Otherwise, the offer stands with A&C which would mean my stuff would go into storage again. Time will tell.

First of all, I think you all should read this. It puts a lot of things in perspective. Thanks to Mom for sending me the link.

I'm not sure where to start, so much has been going on this past week. Of course, the BIG event was the much anticipated wedding of Al and Carrie, which happened on Saturday, the Ides of March. That date also marks my mother's birthday, so it was a very exciting day. I guess that's as good a place to start as any. I'll say this, though, I had no idea just how exhausting being in a wedding party can be. Even when the couple is as completely unstressed as A&C were, it's just plain tiring. It took two days for me to recover. Whew, I cannot stress the importance of naps.

Friday saw the beginnings of the preparations, or perhaps the end of the preparations, the final bits being done and my stomach beginning to flutter. Rick came out Friday afternoon, and after buying make-up and lingerie with Carrie (that was an adventure), we picked him up from the Greyhound station. His bus came in late so we were all late to arrive at the hall where we were to help with the decorations. From there we went to the church for the rehersal. Father Paul later told me that we'd been one of his most enjoyable wedding rehersals because we were so hilarious. It's true, I freely admit it. We're damn funny. Following that was dinner at Al's parents' place, and then the boys went to the strippers. They tried in vain to pursuade us to come along as bringing chicks earns free pitchers of beer. Uh huh. The girls didn't really do anything, we went to Jenn's to pick up the flowers for our hair and whatnot, and then came back to my house to deliver dresses. We kind of hung out for an hour or so, chatting with Mom. There were some mix-ups with the dresses, Tanya having been given Sherrie's overdress and other silliness, but we sorted it out.

Saturday began early with an appointment at the hairdresser's. The wait was long, so I ran home to get nail polish. My hair was pretty easy. It got rolled up into a bun-thing that looked like a small, round braided challah bread. It was trimmed with ivy and orchid blossoms. It was very feminine. Carrie's hair was a big fall of curls that looked lovely, and Tanya's was half up and half down and full of orchids. Sherrie's hair took MUCH longer than anyone else's to do because it had little braids and things. It looked beautiful, though, so I can't really complain. We flew back to Mom's where we ordered pizza and did our make-up. Mom did it for the Brumwell girls (Carrie, Sherrie, and their mother, Ruth) and I did mine and Tanya's. The photographer came and did some headshots in the living room and Rick went off for lunch with Sherrie's boyfriend and her father. It came down to the wire, but we got it together, piling into the limo in our gorgeous gowns. It must have appeared quite impressive for the neighbours, though. And my mother enjoyed doing the make-up and the commotion, which made for a very unique and exciting birthday.

We all arrived at the church (on time, I'll have you know), followed closely by Ruth, the photographer, and finally my mother (in the nick of time). Richie and Bill were still ushering the final arrivals, and then they had to go join Al and Ryan who were waiting in an anteroom. Apparently, Ryan was very nervous, moreso than Al, but Al said he was suddenly hit with nerves about 15 minutes before the wedding began. Carrie looked radiant and we were all very excited. I had to walk down the aisle first, and the whole time I was thinking, "Walk slower, Maya, slower... step, pause, step, pause..." I did manage a smile at Mom, though, but for the rest, I didn't even see the rest of the congregation. The ceremony was amazing. Tanya set me to crying, and when I saw Al start to cry, I started all over again. The priest, Father Paul, gave a most amazing and inspiring homalie (sp?) and the service went smoothly and was full of joy and happiness. Carrie was rendered incapable of speach at one point, either by nerves, or excitment, or just being blonde, but otherwise it was perfect. The priest, by the way, portrayed Andre, one of the theatre owners, in Phantom of the Opera at the Pantages in Toronto for a number of years. In fact, I saw him twice in it.

I'll skip the boring details of the milling around at the church and immaturity of the limo ride, and gloss over the drawn out process of photographs at the hall. By this time, my bouquet was getting pretty darn heavy. The reception was great - the food was good, though the roast beef was dry - and the dancing went on and on. The crazy DJ played a song mix made up almost entirely from requests and all of mine were played. I enjoyed the snowball dances, something I'd never before experienced. As one partner said as I mentioned this, "Oh, you must not have grown up in Peterborough." If you don't know, a snowball dance begins with the wedding party, or whomever, and they go and get a partner when 'snowball' is called, then people keep getting new partners until almost everyone is up dancing - a snowball effect. Tanya and I went quite crazy for that obnoxious tune, Cotton-Eyed Joe, including me teaching her the only linedance I know. By the end of it all, Rick was quite drunk, I was very sweaty, and everyone was covered in glitter.

All in all, Al and Carrie's was one of the best weddings that I've ever attended, and I'm not just saying that because I was a bridesmaid. No, it was a really good time. I wish them happiness and health until death do them part. Special thanks go to Rick for getting out of the way when the women overran the house, and for the help he gave Mom and I, and of course, uber-thanks to Mom, who made Saturday run as smoothly as a greased weasel in a tube. Mom, you're awesome !

One final thing to add: Today is me and Rick's three-year anniversary ! I'm wearing the garnet, marcosite and silver earrings he gave me. *smooches*

This past weekend was quite a busy one. I'll be brief in describing certain events. Friday night was the major G________ fundraising dinner, where I had an official role of mingling and shmoozing. The event was a lot more fun than I ever thought it could be and I had a blast. I was sitting with Brendan 's father, who was a blast and is one of the people responsible for the very cool windmill power generator down by the water. Across from me was an editorial writer from the National Post, named Neil Hrab. He was great fun. Most everyone I met were very nice or interesting and all of a sudden, three hours had passed and I had to get to Guelph.

Tracy is my reason for going to Guelph. I try to visit her every few months. It's always fun. The first night, though, when I arrived, I just crawled into bed. I was wiped out. On Saturday, we talked and hung out, went and bought food for dinner. When we got home and were preparing to make dinner, the power browned out so much that all the major appliances stopped running. So, we made fruit salad and set candles out on the table and spent a couple hours talking with Mel, Tracy's housemate. Eventually, the power came back on and Tracy and I made our very delicious and garlicky dinner. We then watched Gladiator, crying copiously, and following it up with Legend. Sunday, we just chilled out for a few hours after sleeping very late, and around 3:30, I left Guelph to return to Toronto.

I usually make the trip in forty-five minutes, which is about fifteen minutes less than the drive should take, but because of an investigation on the 401, due, I found out later from Rick, to someone having been thrown out of a minivan at high speed and turned into road pizza, I spent about two hours on the road. Gah. I met Nicole down at her store and we chatted and went to Tortilla Flats for dinner, before I headed to Sandra and John's for John's birthday party. Yes, yesterday was quite a long day for me.

I was greeted at home by some very unpleasant email. Actually, only one unpleasant email. Sadly, from my sister's boyfriend who is as Rick says, "young, dumb, and full of cum." It was in response to the same "Appology to Americans" that I refered to in my last entry. I got flamed. Royally. So, I had to respond. Initially I wrote a very nasty response, but then realising that it was my sister's boyfriend, I toned it down, then ran it past Nick before sending it on. I was going to post it here along with my response, but I decided that I'd let it go. Chances are, tonight or tomorrow, I'll end up with another flame in my email, because he's too young to know how to engage in a proper debate, and I'll just let it drop. I'm sorry that this was my introduction to him, but as long as he treats my sister well, I'll let him keep his kneecaps.

Anyway, I've been assigned Zhanna's office for the fanflick that I'm working on. It's going to be a HUGE challenge, since the scene was shot against a green screen and I've rarely done any sort of room setting, but I think I'll figure it out. Plus I've got to do thank you cards for A&C and also for Adam. Finally, I'm preparing for Ad-Astra, which I'll be helping Nicole at. I'll have several exciting new pieces hanging at the show, and hopefully I will actually sell them. Oh, please, please, please. Which leads me to one last thing. I have updated my Elfwood sites. All of them have new stuff up, so I expect some nice new comments. Click the links at the top right of the screen to visit my sci-fi, story, and fan art galleries.

I got a letter in my email today, from an old friend of mine who lives down in New Orleans. It was a response to an email I'd forwarded out, "An Appology to Americans" written by Rick Mercer, a very funny, satirical Canadian comic. It was followed with slogans written on protest signs at a big peace rally held in Washington DC. One of my friends got very angry about the email, despite despising Bush and the stupidity of the US position on Iraq, but he was offended by Canadian's mocking the US. When I first opened Adam's email, I thought that the length of it suggested he was about to tear my head off, too. Afterall, when we first started talking, his idea of US politics was to wrap himself in the Confederate flag and dance like a monkey. Time caused him to open his eyes, though, and his world view broadened greatly. Now, I present his letter to me. Thank you, Adam, it blew me away.

well, as a native Louisianian, i can tell you that i usually care less about
national politics and more about when crawfish are in season (which they are
right now, and i would send you some if they werent such a perishable item).
i dont think we should bomb iraq. his father had his chance to dethrone
saddam and passed it right up. everybody thinks it's about disarming iraq
but it's always been about oil. the gas is one problem, and i can tell you
that i'm sick of paying a dollar and a half for the watered down stuff. we
have the technology for hybrid electric or hydrogen powered cars and you
know why we dont have them yet - because too many people would lose money.
the other problem is how to stop people from driving airplanes into tall
buildings, and i dont really have a straight answer for that one. and a lot
of people in this country who dont live in new york or california or any
other high profile state think that this shit can't and won't happen to
them, which is pretty dangerous thinking - timothy mcveigh did it in
Oklahoma, of all places.

and let's not even mention health care. i used to install computer
networks, and a lot of our clients were dentists. there was a piece of
paper posted by the front desk of one office that had a picture of the CEO
of a major HMO, and his salary (well over 17 million dollars/year) was
printed below his picture. it basically told customers that if they were
unhappy about the price of dental insurance, that they should remember that
guy and how much he makes, and that's the problem right there. health
insurance for the department store where i work is extremely expensive, and
that's just for you. dont even bring your family into it. i figure it
would be almost 40-50% of my check *every week*. but then if you dont have
it, a visit to the doctor will run you from $90-120. it almost makes you
sick ;) but you have average working people who can barely afford health
and dental insurance, and the guy who works for the HMO making a ridiculous
amount of money off of it.

i think we have a lot of things to fix in this country before we go meddling
in other countries' affairs. i myself could give a shit if n. korea wants
to play with nuclear power. it doesnt matter if you think they're crazy or
not, i find it hard to believe that they dont know it's impossible to "win"
an all out nuclear war. we should stop being the world police.

you know as well as i do how much things are screwed up in this country, and
although i bet canada has its share of greedy politicians, i think that i
want to move there some day, but only if i can get a steady supply of spicy
food and beer and seafood and live music. that is all that we know down
here and that's all that i care about.

I went home for a few days and therefore fell off the planet, again. Oops. Anyway, I had a great time chez Mom. I made her watch Raiders of the Lost Ark, which was on television, and, despite her protests at the start, I believe she thoroughly enjoyed it. What's not to enjoy? Some of the all-time classic movie moments are in that flick. On Sunday, she and I had an adventure when we went to see the Belleville Symphony. Neither of us had been to Belleville before, and we were both impressed with the quality of the orchestra and two out of the three soloists. Names escape me and I don't have a programme to relate to so you're out of luck. Suffice it to say, the soprano was truly excellent and the pianist, an 18 year old from Belleville, Elain Tam, I think her name is, was very talented.

Everyone we met in Belleville was incredibly nice. Talking to strangers in that town (it doesn't quite make a city at under fifty-thousand) seems to be a common and even welcome occurence. We decided to stop at the New Kilick's Family Restaurant off Highway 7 and were pleasantly surprised by the home-goodness and sheer tastiness of this unassuming roadside restaurant's food. Down-home goodness and the owners were very pleasant. Sunday was a mighty enjoyable day, full of surprises and beautiful scenery.

Willi ignored me almost the entire time I was in the Petes. I wonder if she even notices that I'm not there. Chester, on the other hand, lets me ruffle him up and do all sorts of undignified things to him that he won't even let my mother consider. Melody, now 15 years old, is a constant hassel when it comes to grooming. She's losing some of her winter coat and the static is reeking havoc on her long, fluffy fur. This means she gets combed nearly every day, if only to keep a handle on the mattes that develop along her hips. Poor hair creature. Anyway, I've left Willi with Mom since I'll be in Guelph this weekend and then I'll be back to the Petes on Thursday night for wedding excitement. Woo !

I have to get doing with two sets of thank you cards. One for Adam's NDP campaign and one for Al and Carrie. I had an idea for the latter, but I think that I've changed my mind. I don't know, I'll have to talk to them about it. I have yet to do the commission for Tony, which I've been putting off for two weeks, and I owe one to Rick, too. Speaking of Rick, we'll be celebrating our three-year anniversary, if you can believe that, a few days after the wedding. I still haven't gotten anything together for his gift. Not having been paid (still) for Adam's stuff has really been cutting into my finances. I'll figure something out.

Anyway, I think I'll just take a few words to pay a little honour to Mr. Fred Rogers. I have a lot to thank him for. When I was a child, way back when I was still living in New York, it was his television show that I think I loved the most. Sesame Street and The Magic Garden (a local New York show that you might not have ever heard of) were good, and I liked them, too, but Mr Rogers' Neighborhood I adored. I used to run up to the TV and kiss the trolly goodbye when it drove off the screen at the end of the show. I have a vivid memory of my mother windexing the screen to clean off my icky lip marks. Thank you, Fred Rogers, for teaching me about emotions, equality, caring, friendship, honesty, and imagination. You will be missed by millions.