Well, I've done enough hands-on activities to know exactly what sort of things I hope never to have to do (or at least as little of possible) when I am employed in the museum sector. For instance, today, my partner Cat and I finished up our inventory project. The assignment: we are given a list of one hundred objects that live on four shelves at the Peterborough Museum and Archives, which then have to be examined in order to check off each object's accession number as it appears on a master list. Any objects that are missing get noted and any additional items found also get note on a separate list. Sounds simple enough. We were told to sign up for a two-hour slot that would normally be ample time for all those objects.

For those who don't know it, an accession number is that line of numbers (and sometimes letters) you see inscribed on objects displayed in museums. They should be unobtrusive and preferably somewhere out of sight should the object be on display to the public. Typically, this means on the bottom or somewhere at the back. So, our shelves turn out to be roughly 70% cameras and related equipment, 20% seal/stamp presses, and 10% miscilaneous office equipment.

It became painfully obvious within the first ten minutes that things were not going to go smoothly. First there was the adding machine that didn't belong. Never mind not belonging, it was the lifting and turning-over in order to locate the non-existent accession number that nearly killed us. Now, I worked in a barn for two years and that involved a lot of lifting and flinging of hay bales which generally weighed about sixty pounds, give or take. This adding machine required both Cat and myself to get it down off the chest-high (chin-high for Cat) shelf. I manhandled the thing back onto the shelf after we'd discovered its lack of number and when I got my hand stuck under it, I needed Cat to pry it up so I could get my hand out. We figured it weighed MINIMUMLY 85lbs. That is fucking heavy.

It only went downhill from there. You see, whoever was responsible for marking the majority of cameras with their numbers either didn't know the difference between unobtrusive and ridiculous, or they had a sick, sick sence of humour. We were dealing with antique cameras, so it isn't as simple as popping open the back or the battery door. These cameras extended, came in boxes, opened in three places, required pushing, snapping, twisting, whatever - they were ALL different. It became a puzzle to figure out how they opened. At the end of day one, we'd only managed two thirds of the inventory over the course of three hours.

Today went much better in that we left the camera equipment behind us and focused only on the presses and other odds and ends. In the end, our inventory took five hours and had about twenty objects missing and about fifty objects that didn't belong on our shelves. It was back-breaking and hard on our eyes (we spent most of our time hunched over a little card table under a single crooked flourescent light) and if we never have to do it again, it will be soon enough. And yet, it was also weirdly satisfying.

In other news, last night was the Pixies concert in Toronto (well, Mississauga - who knows why?) and I left school early in order to drive in. I promised my mother that I'd stay the night if the weather was bad, but it wasn't necessary. The drive in was spectacular in places. Between Fowlers Corners and Orono there had been freezing rain and since it was cold out, it hadn't melted. By the time I was driving through, the sun was bright, the road was clear, and the trees and fields were shimmering with silver. Had I my camera, I'd have pulled over in order to capture the gloriousness of the scene. It was enough I got to witness it, though.

I picked Rick up from his office and then drove to York Mills to pick up Nick and a girl named Maria, whom I'd never met before. We co-ordinated meeting up with Nick and Maria's friends, Ryan and Jessica and enjoyed dinner with them at Swiss Chalet near the airport. We headed to the International Centre, where the show was taking place, parked and went in. We met Nick's friend, Keith, whom I'm certain I'd never met before, but he says we had... Anyway, we caught the last song and a half of the second opening band (who kind of sucked), and then had about forty five minutes to hang out and get positioned for the Pixies.

The show didn't last long, only about 90 minutes, but believe me when I say it was the most intense, densely packed hour and a half of music I'd ever witnessed. They didn't stop between songs longer than about five seconds and half of the songs were totally bridged together so the concert just rolled along at a rocking pace. Overall, it was a good show, despite the drummer missing several cues and (possibly) spraining his hand, at least according to the hand gestures he was making at the end. I had a good time and the vibe was good, too. Lots of happy people. On a side-note, I have never seen so many people working so hard to look like they just threw on whatever was closest before leaving the house. It was kind of mind boggling.

Rick was a bit put out that I wasn't going to drop him at his house. I dropped everyone (and Keith) at York Mills in order to not have to cross the whole damn city, again. Nick pointed out that it was very nice of me to be dropping everyone off at the subway at all and Rick got over it. I did call my mother just to check on the weather in the Petes as it had begun to snow in Toronto. The report said clear so I headed home. It did snow, almost the whole way, but lightly in those tiny diamond-sparkling flakes that dance in headlights and drift gently over the road. It was pretty and an easy drive with hardly any traffic. It was a very good day.

Honestly, I didn't mean to neglect this journal, the host site was poopered, so I didn't bother. Anyway, things have happened, and time has passed. I'm a few days older and the holiday season is fast approaching. Americans are about to have their Thanksgiving, Toronto's had it's Santa Claus parade, and I put up the Christmas lights. Yes, I'm beginning to feel festive.

Putting up the lights is really when it all begins for me. I go out, do battle with some very sharp connifers and then magic happens. This year, Mom and I tested our lights before stringing them, as always, but were stunned to discover how many of them didn't work. The oldest strings worked the best, but the newer ones were totally defective, in some cases after only one season. Stupid, disposable Christmas lights racket. Mom invested in some LEDs that proport to be indestructable, so we shall see.

We pride ourselves on our tasteful light displays. I got a smack in the face with hideous displays en route to my friend's house tonight. Alana lives very near to where I used to live and there ain't nothing more, um, remarkable than the lights in that neighbourhood. I wasn't disappointed - there was a house with an entire nativity scene (light-up, no less), surrounded by glowing Frosty and Candycane wall ornaments, and the entire house was festooned with swags of mismatched multi-coloured lights. From the cab I was riding in, I missed whether the lights were musical. I wouldn't be surprised if they were.

So, what am I doing in Toronto tonight? Like I said, I was with my friend, Alana, with whom I attended the Royal Ontario Museum's "Magic of Indigo Blue" lecture and auction to benefit the ROM's textile department. Alana made her outfit, naturally, being the costumer she is (pictures to come), and also a long blue skirt for me (just for accompanying her). She made an incredibly gorgeous corset for herself and a matching skirt and shrug. Anyway, it was fun. We were clearly the best dressed. I actually made a last minute purchase at Le Chateau, buying a really nice, off-white sweater with a very flattering neckline. I also got to wear my new winter coat - though it wasn't really cold enough for it. Alana got compliments on her outfit (well, I got a few, too), and I got some great coat comments.

Babbly, me. New topic. Where's the snow? I demand snow. Christmas lights and my gorgeous coat demand snow. Okay, not much of a new topic. Hopefully, I'll have more to say soon.

I am content. Even happy at times. Things are good. I feel great and love school. My job frustrates me, but I still enjoy it. I have good friends and a wonderful mother, and the best cat in the world. I have a great boyfriend and his mom likes me.

Last night was a night of simple pleasures, but totally enjoyable. It began with dinner and a drink in the company of my friend Cheryl. We went to the Bedford Ballroom to vent about work and enjoy each other's company. The food there is always good and usually very well priced and the staff are cool but not so cool as to be aloof like at so many similar restaurants on the College Street strip (maybe because it's not on College, eh?). We parted ways and I headed to Rick's (my weekend home, I guess).

We listened to "Old Orc Radio", an Internet radio show hosted by a good friend we both met on the MUD (who's real life wedding we attended back in the late summer 2001). We submitted a bunch of requests, all of which were played including the Kermit/Ladysmith Black Mombaso African Alphabet Song. We danced around naked and then around 11:30pm, we settled down to watch my favourite childhood movie, The Last Unicorn. I don't think I realised it was so much a favourite until I watched it last night. Tears ran down my cheeks through much of it and despite not having seen it in about fifteen years, I still remembered a lot of the script and, of course, songs.

Today, I'm in such a joyous mood, I can't begin to describe it. I'm happy and in love and all that good stuff. Tomorrow, I might be in a lousy mood, even later today, but right now, the magic of last night still lingers.

*love*

My #2 result for the SelectSmart.com selector, Which Discworld Character Are You?, is Death

Scary, but my number one result was Captain Carrot. Huh.

So, the joys of being a bridesmaid are many, or something, except perhaps not included among them is dress shopping. Maybe it's fun when you're doing it with the bride, or with the other bridesmaids, or something, but when it's just you going into a bridal shop, it kind of sucks. Also, pastel colours kind of suck - no offense Tanya, for you I'll wear them. That said, at least I know my own body well enough to be able to say, "yes, I love that halter top, but my boobs are too heavy," or, "ah, that is not a good look," even when the saleswoman suggests it works. There is subtle saleswoman language that I know well enough to mean, "well, it's not bad," rather than, "Woo, sexy !" When they start pointing out minor features and parts of you that look nice, it's not the whole package. Anyway, I sorted it out. I picked my top. It's the kind of gown that I'm never going to wear again. Unless I turn it into something else.

Oh, and the other thing is that even though there's no price difference between a size 6 and a size 12, larger women are screwed because the price goes up by 30 bucks between a size 14 and anything bigger. I hate that.

That said, I am VERY pleased to be a bridesmaid - repeatedly - and look forward to further adventures.

Last week, I signed up for Weight Watchers. I found it to be quite successful the first time I went into the programme and now, thanks to forgetting about portion sizes and two meds that make people fat, I'm back. Nevermind how heavy I am this time around, it's not important. What is important is that this time, I'm going to take my time. I'm not looking for a quick fix. Averaged out over the two and a half years in which I've been gaining weight, I put on 0.3lbs a week. Of course, it didn't work uniformly like that, but the point I'm trying to make is that it took a while of steady gaining to put me at my current weight. I am keeping my goals realistic, now, and am looking at taking off only 1-2lbs a week. I lost weight much faster the first time, but now I am only interested in doing it in a healthy way that promotes keeping the pounds off, rather than quick results. There are a lot of studies out there demonstrating how people are more likely to stay in a healthy weight range if they lose the weight slowly, over a long period of time. Also, I refuse to become obsessed.

In other news? I haven't had any assignments to do this week. It feels really weird, like I'm somehow shirking my responsibilities. Usually when I feel that way, it's because I -am- shirking. Huh.

Yet again, I've forgotten my weblog. Okay, it wasn't actually forgotten, I simply wasn't on my computer much. Reading week came and went and I was in Toronto and Peterborough. I did things like organise my crap in my mother's garage (with help from Richie and Leanne), rode horseback for the second time in a month, modeled in the Nocturnalia fashion show (that was neat), worked at the ROM, attended the Society for Studies in Egyptian Antiquities symposium on education in Ancient Egypt (yes, I'm a nerd, we already knew that), carved a pumpkin, did homework, rehoused some textiles, and spent a lot of time sleeping. That list is in no particular order and hopefully, I'll go into some detail about a couple things soon (like the fashion show, symposium, and maybe some other stuff).

If you recall from a couple of weeks ago, I wrote about seeking out the spider species belonging to the spider handed to me in a pill container while at the cottage. Now, for all posterity, here the link with two pictures of the exact variety. It's the pale Araneus orb weaver huddled in the window frame, roughly halfway down the page. Now, I've bookmarked it, saved the information, and can report back to Jean and Michael and even send them pictures and links to other similar orb weavers.

Not bad, for an arachnaphobe, eh?

In other news, I'm to be a bridesmaid. Again. First to Carrie, almost two years ago, and now to my old, old friend, Juliane, who lives near Hamilton. Her wedding slots neatly into the two months between Tanya's wedding and Tracy's wedding, both of which I'm bridesmaiding (can that be a verb?) in. I haven't spoken to Juli in months, but this isn't really terribly surprising. We go for long periods when we simply don't speak. Longer periods when we don't see each other. It's been a couple of years since I last saw her, I'm sure. We met at Camp Kemur riding camp near Cambridge, ON, almost two decades ago. Seventeen years ago, I think. I was ten and she was nine, or something like that, and we hit it off right away. Anyway, so today I was checking my email for the first time in a few days, which isn't like me, but hey, I had other priorities, and lo, there was a letter from Juli. In it, she mentions casually that she and her long-time boyfriend, Sean, are engaged (since the spring) and then it's onto other stuff. Naturally, I whipped open my phone book and called her. This is the abridged, but pretty accurate, dialogue that started the conversation:

Me: Oh my God, you're engaged.
Juli: So, I guess you got my email.
Me: Oh my goodness, yes, I'm so excited ! You think you took your time about telling me?
Juli: Ya, maybe. You know me and phoning. I did try to write an email about a month ago, but it bounced 'cause I had the wrong address. I actually got your email by googling your name.
Me: I'm all over [the Internet], if you know where to look. That sounds bad, but it's true.
Juli: Laughs
Me: You know, when I was reading your letter, I thought for a horrible second you were going to ask me to be a bridesmaid, because I'm already one in a wedding in July and another in October. I was kind of relieved.
Juli: voice softens So, you won't be my bridesmaid?
Me: Of COURSE I'll be your bridesmaid, are you kidding?!
Juli: Good, you had me worried !
Me: Wonderful, now I'm crying.

This, after I'd just been on the phone with Tanya, discussing dresses, and my mother teased me for being a multi-maid. Is there an addage about "four times a bridesmaid", because this time next year, it will have been four weddings. Okay, people, that's enough - you can stop asking me now, it's expensive and I've committed to quite enough... But it sure makes me realise how lucky and honoured I am to have so many people in my life that think I'm so special. I feel loved.

On a different note: as the results shift and bend toward the incumbent, I made my vote count. I am proud that my state spoke out and even though it was the original victim, its people will not be cowed by talk of terror and can still take a positive stand against the ruling insanity. At least they had the excuse for the first term that they never really elected him. This time, in the eyes of the world, they had the choice and they elected him for real. Maybe, a miracle will occur and I'll wake up in the morning with Kerry as the president.

Ya. Right.