Canadians love to talk about the weather. From what I understand, this is similar to how it is in much of the UK, only we get to say far more than "Shame about the rain". We like it as a topic because we have so much of it. We have four seasons, mostly, although there is a debate that "Construction" and "Winter" only constitute two seasons.

We have distinct summers that get quite warm (read 'hot and humid' from Sarnia to Montreal), certainly distinct winters just about everywhere, and at least a proper month of spring and fall in between. Each varies quite a bit from place to place, based on geography, inland/coastal terrain, pollution, etc., but they're there. Some places are famous for certain things, for instance, Toronto is muggy like the dickens through July, Saskatchewan blows away in the wind, Winnipeg is "Winterpeg" for a reason, and the Yukon is surprisingly temperate. The main exception here is Vancouver, where generally speaking, they get to say a lot of "shame about the rain" to each other.

One of the questions I get a lot of now that I'm here in Winnipeg, usually from my friends in the Toronto-Montreal corridor, is "What's the weather like?" See, they could just check The Weather Network, but we might somehow fail to have a conversation about anything else without breaking the ice with weather first. For a while, I just had to say, "It sucks," and they'd gloat, or pity me, but I've really come to appreciate it. We had a glorious September, rare in that there was no killing frost until October, and though we had it quite cold, compared to, say, Toronto, for a week, it warmed up again and now has become beautiful. Sure, the leaves are all off the trees and have been for a week, but it's dry and clear and get this, when the sun sets, it's like white fire it's so bright.

Two days in a row, I've gone for walks and came back with a glow on my cheeks. Today I walked around much of the Exchange District, in which the Museum is located, and discovered all sorts of neat little shops and eateries, historical buildings and equally historical faded billboard paintings. If I've got the time, and if the weather holds, I think I will bring my camera down on Saturday and try to capture some of the slanting, clear light and fascinating structures. More and more, I'm liking this city, but, of course, this is all subject to the weather.

The "Social". It is a Manitoba tradition. It is not like any other community or social gathering I've attended. It is culturally restricted to Manitoba and draws its lineage from the Ukranian settlers. They're hosted in community centres. Tonight I attended a Wedding Social for one of my colleagues at the Museum. I had assumed it would be like a jack and jill or stag and doe, and on the surface, I suppose it was. Tickets were sold, and there were prize items that guests bought tickets for. It raises money for a cause, which in this case was the couple's wedding. Now, here's where it gets a little bizarre. There is a "lunch" which is a spread of cold cuts and cheese, sliced sausage and pickles, and lots and lots of bread (rye?). All socials offer the same fare, though I understand the quality differs substantially. Everyone dances to lousy music and drinks incredibly cheap alcohol, eats these cold cuts, and bids on prizes. It is illegal to host a social and NOT have this spread of food. Seriously. Let me tell you, though, all the balloons in the world can't turn a shabby community centre into anything other than what it is.

But did I have fun? Well, yes. There was a large group from the museum, most of those I like, anyway, and the prizes were alright, though I didn't win the XBox. Not a surprise there. I don't win things. Well, not anything I'd actually -like- to have. I did a bit of dancing, ate some of these rather strange cuts of meat, drank the cheap booze and basically had a good time. And, honestly, you haven't lived until you've seen couples dancing the Polka to... Boney M's Rasputin. No. Really. We got it on film.

Prior to this odd cultural event, I went out with my co-worker, Caterina, a seriously under utilised staffer of the museum who is way too bright to be the glorified administration assistant that she is. She and I went to Carlos & Murphy's, the Irish Tex Mex restaurant bar. Heh, it's pretty tasty, even if it isn't Sneaky Dee's. I'll get over it. I guess I -have- gotten over it, even. We drank and feasted on nachos and wings and it was good. Then it was off to a Drag King show at the Burton Cummings Theatre (formerly, and fondly recalled as, the Walker Theatre), which is a beautiful, old theatre with two balconies and stunning decoration. Sadly, the drag show was a big disappointment, the whole thing coming off like a bad Anime convention cosplay event. Some of the kings were actually =really= good. But they did lousy performances. The highlight should not be the emcees. Anyway, from there we went to the social.

I've got the house to myself this weekend, too, which is kind of neat. Rosetta's at her son's cottage with his family. This means I'll probably park myself upstairs in front of the television tomorrow afternoon and watch movies. Sure, it means she won't be cooking for me, but that's okay, I'll survive. Anyway, I'm a little intoxicated still so rather than get rambly, I'll just stop here.

But seriously, dancing the polka to Boney M. Wow.

I have been really tired for the last few days and in thinking about this and speaking with my friends, I believe there are two factors at play (possibly a third, but it would involve a blood-test so I think I'll just take vitamins). Firstly, it's dark out. Days are shorter in Winnipeg than they are in Toronto and leaving the house before the sun rises is kind of depressing, as is living in a basement, no matter how nice a flat it is. Secondly, I had one of the most emotional weeks of the past year last week. How so?

Let me tell you about my best friend's wedding. I love Tracy, she's my best friend of 16 years, and despite a year of estrangement over which we recovered, this has never wavered. In fact, in that year, I never stopped calling her my best friend - sort of like having an estranged spouse, ie. they're still your spouse. Anyway, Saturday was her wedding to long-time boyfriend, Paul. Aside from this being the most poignantly important wedding I have ever attended, it was also a mildly nerve-wracking experience. Being Tracy's Maid-of-Honour was truly an honour, standing for her and signing the register, etc., being not only part of the ceremony but also the legal process, was quite profound. The ceremony, I felt, was very beautiful (although I'm still trying to figure out how Secular Humanists get to be a legally recognised religion but Wiccans don't). I managed to hold back my tears, which is good, since Paul looked to me when he thought he was going to utterly break down (I was 'strong' for him).

My emotions were complicated by the presence of Rick, my own long-time boyfriend, who is, since September, my exboyfriend. He wanted to be there for me and to support my mother, which is very noble of him, but I won't deny that his being there lent an undercurrent of sadness to the whole affair. He looked very nice, as always, and he was very sweet and concerned. At the same time, my first love, Jon, was also in attendance, and Rick witnessed our making ammends after eleven years of animosity. There were a lot of people from my past at this wedding, too, people I liked and respected, but nonetheless had drifted away from for various reasons. Needless to say, Saturday was a very powerfully moving day for me and tears ran down my face for much of the drive home that night.

Since then, I haven't really felt recovered, my body desperately trying to make up for the depth of exhaustion by finding sleep in some rather awkward places. Yesterday, for instance, on a text book in my paleo-cubby during my lunch hour. I suppose this will level off eventually. Today, despite not getting the extra sleep I had intended last night, I am feeling rather more refreshed and in better spirits. Hopefully, my level of energy will remain throughout the day as I really hate the feeling of sluggishness and sleeping on the bus.

You have the Rossetti girl look. You are the kind
of girl pre-Raphaelite painters admired; tall,
slender, and fair as a lily flower. The
pre-Raphaelite girl had dramatic beauty; long
neck, large soulful eyes, full shapely mouth
and masses of wavy hair. The pre-Raphaelites
painted girls like this, they showed them in
dramatic situations dressed as famous
characters in legends, plays and poetry. The
favourite colours of the artists were russet,
green and gold. The following artists would
have loved to paint you; Holman Hunt, John
Everett Millais, Edward Burne-Jones, William
Morris and Dante Gabriel Rossetti.


'Pretty As A Picture' - Which Artist Would Paint You?
brought to you by Quizilla

I thought I'd start with a bit of space wasting, here, because I'm having such a hard time coming up with things to say. For someone who is rarely at a loss for words, not finding them when you want them is very distressing. While there are a number of things I would like to be talking about, foremost on my mind is Tracy's wedding tomorrow, and the speech that I haven't yet written. I don't know why it's so difficult to find the right words, but it is. Maybe I'm just in denial that my very best friend in the whole world is about to become someone's wife. I don't know, maybe it's because we've gone through so much together that it's awfully hard to limit myself to three minutes.

But, in the meantime, I'm sitting at home, on my bed, looking out my window at the leaf-strewn lawn and am very glad to be here. Winnipeg has been fun, minus the homesickness, but in the end, this is where my family is. As if to prove a point, Chester, who is usually glued to my mother, spent two hours in bed with me this morning. That was a special treat as my bed is particularly devoid of cat, with both Willi and Melody gone. I could have maybe lived without Chester drooling on me, but I know he drools with happiness, so that's somewhat comforting.

It's been a busy week, with going into Toronto for the bitter-sweet reunion of Rick and myself (which I don't feel much like writing about just now), taking my mother to see the orthopedic surgeon, and running errands related to the wedding (clothing, accessories, etc.) and to living (groceries, etc.). The time has been flying by and at the same time, I'm trying to slow it down as much as possible because part of me very much doesn't want to go back to Winnipeg. Heh. Ahh, well, when I return, it will only be two months and a week, and after being away for a month, I am positive I can handle being away for the extra time. And then I'm home and it's Christmas, and then out I go into the real world. I hope. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

So now, back to my speech.

This week brought snow to Winnipeg. Nasty, wet, pelting snow that actually managed to accumulate enough so that two days later there is still snow lying in the joins of roofs, against objects, and in depressions. Speaking of depression, I'm having a lot of trouble sleeping properly, finding it difficult to fall asleep no matter how exhausted I am. And I'm pretty exhausted. I don't know if this relates to the changing seasons, a lingering homesickness, a too-busy-thinking brain, or a little of each. Regardless, it has become harder and harder to get out of bed in the morning with every night that I lie there trying to sleep.

It feels like I should not have depression, because mostly, I'm very happy here. I really do like this city, although a blizzard on October 5, kind of sucks (I now know what a "Colorado Low" is and why Manitobans fear them). I've decided that it's quite nice to have all these wide open spaces filled with trees or public art even if the wind tends to whip through them. Even if all the trees turn yellow rather than orange or red, there are so many of them that it just feels healthy. I like living at Rosetta's. Her house is nice and the neighbourhood is charming and friendly. It has been a long time since I've lived somewhere urban where your neighbours greet you in the street. I like - maybe even love - working at the Manitoba Museum and with the amazing array of creative people employed there. I feel extraordinarily lucky, grateful to the powers that be, which have placed me here. And yet, something is bothering me. I can only assume it is because I want to go home. Happily, I will be doing this on Sunday afternoon.

Another part of me cannot believe how quickly time has already passed. I've been here exactly one month. When I return to Winnipeg on the 17th, I will have two months and one week of my internship left. And then it's out into the wide world once again. (That was a nicely alliterative sentence.) I've promised myself that I won't start applying for jobs until November, because I won't be available until January, or preferably February, but the temptation is to start early because I have no money. Well, I -have- money, but not very much. I have JUST enough to pay my rent and my bills, but I'm afraid I've already blown my social/entertainment budget, and it was meagre to start.

I had hoped to somehow get out to the historic grain elevators near the Saskachewan border, but that would mean renting a car again, so that's out of the question. Honestly, the money situation is so tight that I am considering picking up some part-time weekend work while I'm here, but assuming I could get it, that would mean working seven days a week, so I'm not sure it's such a good idea. I guess this is one of those things I'm particularly concerned about that keeps me up at night.

Anyway, I had intended to write a post about the neat things I'm doing, but aside from my wonderful social weekend last weekend (which I probably couldn't afford), I haven't done much. Silke is gone now, we (myself and two co-workers) saw her off with drinks and nachos at the adequate Carlos and Murphy's texmex pub. The following day, Saturday, I met up with a friend of a friend and had pizza and stout and bubble tea and that was a lot of fun, too. Sunday involved an all-day car tour around Winnipeg and her environs with Rosetta and her close friend (and history buff), Jim. That was nice, too, if a little all over the place.

So, maybe tonight, coupled with the knowledge that I'll get to sleep in, I'll sleep well and have decent dreams that don't wake me up feeling uncomfortable. And in a matter of days I will get to see the beloved hues of the colouring sugar maples. It can't come too soon.