March seems to have come in as a lion, roaring majestically, reminding us all that this is still winter, even if there have been a few robin sightings. It's really beautiful outside, I must say. Unfortunately, what with the up-and-down of the air pressure, I have developed a migraine. No surprise, there, but nonetheless, irritating. It's still snowing out, and I'm hoping that by tomorrow, I'll finally get out my skis and have a little jaunt. I'll do it in the evening, when no one is out, though, because, well, firstly, I love snowy nights, and secondly, there won't be anyone to see me as I embarrass myself. I haven't been cross-country skiing since highschool, I think.

Saturday is the Peterborough Symphony Orchestra's Swing into Spring gala, an event that has been plagued by unfortunate events. Hopefully, the gala itself will go very smoothly and raise the PSO some needed money and will be the first in a long future of gala evenings. It is a wine and food pairing event, with music by a pair of ensembles (out of the PSO) and the popular local band, Felix and the Swing Cats. Nicole of Nocturnalia and her beau, Dan, will be coming out for the event. She will be a featured guest offering palm readings. Rick will also be out for the event, but I'm going to be pretty busy being all mingly with the guests. I had hoped that Al and Carrie would come, but I guess they're not planning on it, since I haven't heard anything. I didn't bother to invite Chris and Tanya, even though they might have come, since they're so darn social that if you don't book them a month in advance, at least, you can pretty much forget it.

Speaking of Tanya, my bridesmaid gown is ordered and now it's time to wait. Why it should take twelve weeks for a gown to come in I have no clue. If I can have something custom made from scratch in six, why does a prefabricated gown take twice as long? And then, of course, it will have to be altered. The bridal business is quite the racket, you know. The more experience I get in people's bridal parties, the more I realise that whatever I have, my wedding will be non-traditional - and I don't just mean my gown colour. Yeesh.

And now for something completely different: take the commonly confused words test ! I scored 100% Beginner, 93% Intermediate, 93% Advanced, and 66% Expert! With 100% better than everyone in my age group. I'm not sure how accurate the percentage for my age group is, but I don't doubt I scored higher than most.

Because I'm just like that.

The Canadian Military is mocked by many for its amazing lack of, well, equipment, for one. It isn't the military's fault, but it can be somewhat embarrassing. That said, there is nothing - NOTHING - less likely to inspire awe than a soldier in full cammo carrying an enviro-hemp totebag. You know the kind, the "green" bags that were popular ten years ago that are now only carried by those who shop at health food stores.

Okay, had he been wearing fuzzy bunny slippers, that would have been less inspiring, but still, whatever effect the uniform had on anyone was completely tempered by the silliness of his overstuffed totebag.

Where did I see this fine specimen? At the Canadian Government building up near Yonge and Sheppard. There were plenty of army types walking about, as well as customs officials (there's a passport office there), and none of them really impressed me. And I like uniforms. Anyway, I was there with my mother who was dropping off her passport papers to have ready before she flies to New York. As far as I know, you don't require an up-to-date passport to cross into the USA from Canada, but it can't help to have one. I, personally, am thinking of applying for a US passport, too, for ease of travel.

Speaking of travel, I've been sending out inquiring emails to all sorts of museums here and there. Mostly, I've had either no response, or lame response. My plan was simple, get an internship in New York City. How's that working out? Well, that's the thing, it isn't working out very well at all. One museum in NY has responded, and in all honesty, the form response wasn't a good start and not having my question answered helped even less. So, I've pretty much crossed that institution off my list.

The museum that has been most excited by the prospect of my interning with it, is... in Winnipeg. I have nothing wrong with The 'Peg, as it's sometimes called. In fact, I've never even been there so I have no point of comparison. What I do know about Winnipeg is that it is a pretty funky city and has a strong arts community. It isn't very big, and its other nickname is "Winterpeg", but they have a well-known museum there, the Manitoba Museum of Man and Nature, and that museum's education/interpretation department seems to want me.

For the next little while, I'll use polite stalling tactics while I wait and cross my fingers for the Brooklyn Museum or MOMA to return my email, but I may have to get used to the idea of finding a place to live in Winnipeg. It's quite a bit farther away than New York, but it could be a lot of fun. We shall see.
In other news, utterly unrelated to school, passports, or the Military, Rick and I went to Canoe last night. This is a very high rated restaurant and one we would not normally visit (considering the price of food, etc.), but Rick had won some gift certificates through his work and we decided to use them. So, it was the most expensive dinner I've ever had (I think) and completely worth it. Every penny of it !

So, what did we eat? This:

• Lobster and cuttlefish salad (me)
• Oysters (Rick)
• Seared bluefin Tuna (me)
• Rack of lamb (Rick)
• Side of King mushrooms (shared)
• Sticky Toffee something or other (me)
• The most incredible butter tart (Rick)
• Capuccino (me)
• Coffee (Rick)
• Two glasses of white, each - Reisling for Rick, Chardonay for me
• Late harvest wine (one glass each)

Final bill, with tip? $310. Half of that was paid with gift certificates and the other half we're calling an early anniversary dinner in celebration of five years together. You know what one of the most pleasant parts of the meal was? It was wonderful to be treated as though every single thing we said, ordered, or ate, was a pleasure for the staff. Our waiter really gave us the feeling that he was delighted to serve us and that we were the most special of guests.

And the food was mind-bogglingly good.

I am a lucky woman.

I want to sleep. That's really all I want to do. I'm not depressed, just very, very worn out. This coming week is reading week and it can't come soon enough. Even though it will be jammed full of activities, I still look forward to a week without school. Even the knowledge that my last test score was 98% isn't enough to bouy me up. Chocolate, nice and dark, would definitely help, but I don't think we have any. If I make it to the gym tonight, maybe I'll feel envigourated. We'll see.

Yes, I promised more to come last post, but I just can't right now. There is my bed, empty of me, waiting for me to lie in it. Close my eyes and just... sleep. Mmmmm.

First of all, I would like to wish someone, who shall remain anonymous, a very happy 30th anniversary ! You know who you are ! Congratulations on this special day, and may you see another thirty years, one day at a time. *love*

Last night, I got to see something people haven't really had a chance to see in Peterborough, at least not in the last fifty years, or something. I went to the Opera ! Yes, the Petes now boasts Lyric Stage, a brand new opera company spearheaded by Canadian singer, Eleanor James, and a merry band of the musically inclined. For their first performance, they played Cupid and Death an early Baroque opera that contains all the necessary elements to make theatre-goers blush, and has probably been doing so for three hundred years. The synopsis has Cupid and Death spending a night at an inn where a vindictive servant (spurned in love and afraid to die) switches their arrows (or, in this version, guns). What ensues is chaos as young lovers are struck dead in the midst of wooing and the ailing tear off their bandages and fall hopelessly in love. There's hetro-, bi-, homo-, transexual love and there's even a dose of bestiality. It is quite the romp ! The aging couple sitting beside me became quite uncomfortable as the "Old Men Dancing" troupe all began fondling each other. Most everyone else, mind you, laughed so hard that tears streamed down their faces.

I have to say, I haven't laughed so hard in a while. I was supposed to leave at the intermission to catch my bus into Toronto, but I was feeling pretty unsteady (thanks to a certain monthly visitor) and had the feeling that I really should see the second half of the performance. I called Rick and rearranged my plans. I don't think he was thrilled, but he still gets to see me later, so he'll live. The opera was fairly well acted and generally well sung, with the exception of a couple soloists who probably only got the parts because of family connexions, and the leads were quite good. It was a success, by my account, and a great first showing for this new little company. I look forward to their future shows.

More news to come.

Happy Canadian Flag Day !

I can't remember if I mentioned my not-so-old printer dying or not, so forgive me if I have, but I'm going to do so now. My printer, an HP deskjet 960c, started out rather well, but sometime in the fall, approaching Christmas, it started to make a grinding sound. This began to happen after I refilled the ink cartridges, but this isn't what caused it, because I'd been refilling them for several months. In fact, I really doubt that refilled ink cartridges could be responsible for what actually happened. One of the little plastic flappy things that raise when the paper starts to come out physically came unattached and an itty-bitty little coiled spring bounced out. I tried to fix it, but all I got were grinding noises and then the paper stopped feeding through entirely. My initial plan was to take it into a shop and have it repaired, but as time wore on, I started to realise that it probably wasn't worth the price to do so.

Three months later, fliers from Staples started to arrive at the house and they had tantalising offers in them, although, not really what I was looking for. Then, a little more than a week ago, a big green flier arrived, addressed to us and it offered much more interesting and useful deals. Here began the hmming and hawing. I looked through the flier, front to back to front again; in the washroom, in my bedroom, on the couch, in the kitchen. Receiving my OSAP funding, finally, after months of problems, suddenly gave me just enough finiancial freedom to buy a new printer, but which one? Three days ago, or so, with the flier sale running out of time, I started my consumer research in earnest.

I visited several websites, including a few that were really excellent, if not necessarily helpful. The problem with many sites was the lack of reviews. There could be twenty for one printer, and none for another, which wasn't helpful at all when the missing printers were the ones I was searching for. I engaged Rick in the research as well, and between the two of us, I did end up with a number of useful reviews. Finally, I settled on the one I purchased, the Canon PIXMA iP4000. It's not the latest model in the PIXMA line, but it was available, within my price range, and had just about all the bells and whistles I needed or wanted. With knowledge in my brain, I was able to make what I think was an informed decision and ordered it on-line.

The truth is, I am very disappointed with my HP. Up until now, all my best printing experience has been with HP equipment. I was aware that my mother's Lexmark, a machine a year older than my old printer, actually did a better, more reliable job than what I was using and that was frustrating. Now, I have my Canon and I hope that it lives for years and years. Computer appliances shouldn't be disposable, and it really pained me to have to spend more money so soon after the last one was purchased. That said, maybe be able to donate the HP to a computer charity or something.

And, in the meantime, I have one Hell of a sexy printer !

Appologies, I'm having a nerd moment. :) Hey, I'm allowed.


Andalusian. You're Graceful and Beautiful. You like
the way you are and you love to impress. You're
sweet and caring, but you can get a little show
offy. You have lots of friends and the elders
respect you. You've made a good spot out there
for yourself. Good Job!


What Breed of Horse Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

A lot has happened over the last little while and for much of it, I didn’t feel comfortable posting in such an open forum as this. Normally, I would not extol the virtues of LiveJournal over this, my long enduring weblog, but for the ability to post entries privately. There was an unfortunate event between myself and a member of my school faculty and I’ll simply leave the subject with a summation: It was a lack of communication that led to hurtful allegations and a jumping to conclusions that does not befit a pair of adults. I spoke to all parties involved and resolved the situation to the best of my ability and we’re all the wiser for it.

Not that long ago, perhaps four years ago or there about, I would have let it go. I would have simply shrugged and taken the hit. My marks would have begun to slide and I wouldn’t have cared. I like to think that things are different now for two reasons. Firstly, I’m older now, and from where I stand here, I know I am also more mature. Secondly, I really want to be in this programme and do not wish to waste my time and money with a course that I won’t apply in my career path. I’m where I want to be, damn it, and I refuse to allow the actions of a few people to turn me away.

In the meantime, I’m still waiting for letters of reference from other faculty for my application to the Metropolitan Museum. I kind of feel like I’m doomed never to get in because my academic referees keep screwing up. It really is annoying. I realise that people have their own responsibilities that may prevent them from getting to what they deem less important, but sometimes, I wish they’d just think about how it could be affecting someone else.

Changing the subject to more current events, I went with a few friends from class, to “Fetish Night” at Peterborough’s Trasheteria. It was pretty much as I expected: a good night out at a club, but a pretty tame fetish night overall. There were some people really into the scene, but in all, it was vanilla – and that’s coming from someone (me) who’s really not all that kinky ! The entertainment acts were so-so, though I think that the “Wet-lipped Pussycats” really would have been better off at a strip joint. I think they want to be kinky burlesque, but they look like they’ve taken all their pointers from second-rate strip clubs. They don’t even win points for being terribly risqué since they didn’t even know how to use the floggers and whips they wielded. It was kind of like a highschool senior play with pasties.

The second act, some circus geek type act (“Sadistic Cupid” or something like that) did not suck, but I have no idea what the lead guy was saying since the DJ seemed incapable of turning down the music. Anyway, it involved some guy with pins in his chest in the shape of a heart, which was kind of fascinating in its own way, but wasn’t really my thing. Yes, okay, the girls took the pins out and there was blood, but honestly, I just don’t enjoy bloodsports. I was pleased to see everyone donned rubber gloves for that, too, and at the end of the act, the stage was thoroughly disinfected. I’m such a hygiene nerd. Really, although the pin-guy did eat fire, since he wasn’t eating it off anyone, it wasn’t that exciting.

Yesterday, Mom and I drove out to Dundas for an engagement party. Held in honour of my dear friend Juliane and her fiancé, Sean, it was quite unlike any engagement party I’ve ever attended. It was fully catered from one o’clock in the afternoon until well passed supper, and there were probably close to one hundred people in attendance. The oldest of grandparents mingled with excited toddlers and everything in between. It was an amazing affair and a very good way for everyone to meet the wedding party and various parents, friends, and whatnot. Juli’s parents were a-buzz, especially her mother, who loves to entertain – she was in her element ! There were also trips out to the barn to visit the horses, including one mare with five weeks to go. The cats were all set up in the basement with chairs, food, water, and litter all arranged for their comfort and Terry, the standard poodle, was trembling all around the house, half paralised with fear for all the strangers.

Around half-passed four, the bridesmaids all piled into some cars and headed to “Heirlooms” a bridal shop in Dundas to look at gowns. This was something of an experience and, yet again, did nothing to bolster my opinion of bridal shop owners or the gown industry at all. The owners were quite displease to have us there so close to closing time and offered us next to no assistance when we asked for their opinions about different gown shapes on certain body types. Juliane has five bridesmaids and three are long and lean and two are uber-curvy. A little help would have been appreciated. Anyway, we narrowed our field of choice to about two dresses, both very different from what we’d initially pictured, and now we’re going to try to find them at other shops since we’d really like to NOT deal with this store again. If you can believe it, the owner actually turned the lights off while we were still getting out of the gowns and getting our boots on to leave. I mean, never mind that we could have conceivably dropped a thousand bucks right then and there. Anyway, the search will continue.

Oh, and the colour? Heh, light purple, again. Le sigh.

So, this art contest I mentioned in my last post, is this "women in art" competition where the winners will be selected for a book. It is being held by a reputable publishing company, known for fantasy type illustration books, and the judges are some of the best in the field. I don't think that the submissions have to be fantasy, though. Sadly, there's a somewhat heafty entry fee of $20 per submission, but it's not actually out of line with many of the other competition entry fees I've seen. I'd post a link, but I don't have the website handy here at the museum. In a similar vein, I've also gotten my Ad-Astra art competition entry forms, so now I have to think about what I've got to hang. See, the problem is, I haven't had all that much time to get any art done.

School is going alright. I wish I were as enthusiastic this semester as I was last, but sadly, certain things have happened that have made me kind of uncomfortable. Namely, being sick for a week and having an instructor renege on the promise of a letter of reference for the reason of absences... Ya, and she did this via email while I was sitting three chairs away from her in the same room. Needless to say, I have dealing with that to greet me at the start of this week. Oh boy.

Other than that, things have been kind of quiet. Nick came and visited, made the guest bed smelly (Nick, you really should bathe more), and I got sick. Oh, and I did a TON of school work. Despite being sick, I managed to attend nearly every group meeting I had got my work in on time. You know how I did this? With my awesome-super powers, inherited from my mother. Still, I can't help feeling I have missed something in the bustle, hustle, and bed-rest.

I finally got my OSAP funding - for the autumn term. How timely. Thank you, Canada Student Loans, for being so disfunctional that my money was held up for four months. It's a damn good thing I didn't need it desperately, you know, because it wouldn't have been there to help. As it stands, I'm saving it up for my glorious unpaid internship in the future. Whee? I'm going through various job-posting websites and hitting pages belonging to specific museums looking at my options. I'm still very much focused on doing my internship in New York, but I'm almost certain I won't be able to begin it until the fall.
Also, I keep dreaming about cars and last night I dreamt of a corpse stuffed under a grate and in a pipe (yes, she was in two pieces) in what looked like the basement of my old house on Avenue Road. It wasn't that creepy, though it was a bit disturbing. I guess I'm watching too much CSI.

The Christmas vacation seems an awfully long time ago. I have more individual groups and have already had more group meetings than I'd had at the halfway point of last semester. I can barely keep track of everything I have to do, plus I went and signed up for a conversational French class, and I'm still working nearly every weekend in Toronto. I've already missed school due to being sick, and I feel like I'm letting my various groups down. From the amount of work I'm doing, I don't think this is the case, but I feel swamped one moment and lazy the next. Everything is going so quickly, I can hardly focus on the tasks at hand. Entering week four of semester two, I am certain of only three things:

1. there is not enough time in a week to get everything you want finished
2. there is enough time in a week to get what you NEED finished and,
3. there are three full weeks ahead of me before Reading Week.

I had this passed weekend off, which was a pleasure, and even more importantly, it wasn't all filled to the brim with group work. So, not one to miss an opportunity, I invited Nick out to visit. I knew that I would have to take long breaks from him - he's as intense as ever - and those breaks would allow for homework doing. Mostly, it worked.

Having Nick here was really fun. It was the first time that my mother really got to meet him. Their previous encounters were usually less than an hour and hardly worth mentioning. Mom and Nick spent a lot of time talking, which was handy as that also afforded me time to do work and to conduct a phone interview with someone (we'll get to that later) for a project. Nick was also given ample time to work on his knitting, some of which he forgot here, and no one demanded he get up early in the day, which is good for him, too. He was a very good houseguest, though he smelled quite bad by Sunday night.

So, getting back to that phone interview I conducted... I called someone I had worked with a long, long time ago - a decade, in fact - at the ROM, when I was a co-op student in Outreach. Kevin, was the ROM's taxidermist and I worked with him regularly during my time there. We did everything from play (er, I mean, work) with freeze-dried bats, to play MYST after hours in the then brand new distance learning computer lab. He was also the one responsible for repairing my finger when I sliced the tip nearly right off with a scalpel. Anyway, he's still a taxidermist, and happily, I was able to track him down thanks to the Internet and a vague knowledge of where he resides. We did a good bit of catching up and I spoke to him about using mounted specimens in museum settings, etc. I plan to stay in touch with him and hope to visit his studio sometime soon. What's particularly interesting is that we know a lot of the same people both thanks to our museum work and my work/experience with MNR and his work as a naturalist and nature artist.

Anyway, I must going. I'm sick and The Daily Show is coming on shortly. Somehow, I'm going to manage to get everything done this week so that my weekend is free in Toronto and I can finish painting Rick's living room. I'm hopefully going to be well enough for, if not all of my class, tomorrow, than most of it AND French. I'd also like to get to the Y at least twice before the weekend, and if I can swing it, maybe once in Toronto, as well. No Dungeons and Dragons this weekend, though, because certain players can't make it. Probably for the best as I won't have much time to spend on a campaign for them. And, finally, I found out about an art competition that I'd like to enter. I'll try to tell more about that in the days ahead.

I'm sitting at the reception desk at the Museum, enjoying the rather tranquil day. There is no major exhibition on and it's been snowing steadily since about 3am so traffic is not surprisingly down. There is a wedding show going on here this weekend, so I might go have a quick look on my break later, but for the same reason, that show is under populated as well. This weather makes me so happy. Yesterday it was frigid and bright with sun, today it's colder than normal and snowy - I'm in bliss ! I've got tights on under my pants, and socks over the tights, a teeshirt under my dress shirt and a shawl wrapped around me. Yesterday, I was also wearing leg warmers.

Around lunch time, I had the most powerful urge to get up go make snow angels on the front lawn ! I restrained myself; however, the idea of coming back into work with wet pants was not a pleasant one. I might just have to do it when I'm done, though. I'd love to be out riding or skiing or toboggonning (how is that spelled?) or just about anything other than just sitting here waiting for someone to buy admission. Last night, despite the skin-crackingly cold air, I walked from Yonge to the ROM in order to stop in at Nine West. There's a 50% off sale and shoes are not only fun, but ... well. Okay, shoes are fun and I haven't bought any in a while. I had enough power of will to not buy two pairs, one was enough. But what a pair it is ! They're pretty, feminine, super heeled, lilac and grey party shoes (with an ankle strap). *purr*

I'd say that over half the people coming through the doors today are from outside of Toronto. Most Torontonians are too wimpy to go out in a blizzard for the museum. Tourists, on the other hand... Anyway, here is a list of the places some of the people have been from: Oman, Dubai, Sweden, South Africa, Korea, Australia.

Turning to other things, namely school, my schedule is rapidly filling up. I'm starting to double book my days now, especially now that I'm taking a ten week conversational French course every Tuesday night. Also, I've got a music lesson to attend on Monday afternoon. This is a very special Christmas present from my mother to me. For a long while, I've been mulling over the idea of taking up the recorder again and my mother dealt with the problem. It's only one lesson, but if it goes well, perhaps there will be others. I haven't played the instrument in fifteen years or so and, as you can well imagine, I'm very nervous !

I cannot believe how quickly the school year is passing, though. It seems like just a few weeks ago that I moved home at the start of September. Already, two weeks of school have rushed past. Unbelievable. I've accepted that I will have to (more than likely) delay my internship until the fall, but that's okay. I'll happily extend my life at Mom's. I love it ! I do, I do, I do !

Whaaaa ! I'm so peppy today !

Week one of term two has ended and I've already got that oh-my-god feeling. Without even having all the assignments penned into my agenda, the semester is shaping up to be as bad and worse than the last. It's exciting, though, and I'm really enthusiastic about a couple of my new courses, including the interpretation/education class.

In other news, I'm having a hard time with a particular decision. You see, I've been an active member of the OPSEU local at the museum for my entire history of paid work there. I've been a shop steward for five out of those six years and, I think, fairly devoted to the cause. I took the position for no other reason than to look out for my co-workers and make sure they got the most fair treatment available to them. This is no small task considering the myriad underhanded ways in which the management undermines the membership and, to be honest, the whiny, spineless nature of much of the membership. I believe that I have done a relatively good job in this position.

Recently, I have been handling a potential grievance issue for one of my co-workers. He's a steadfast employee and not one to rock the boat, but he's also had it with his manager's total disregard of the rules as laid out in the Collective Agreement. He came to me and I have attempted to handle this case quickly and justly. I asked him if he was willing to grieve the issues and he agreed. I was stunned, but, not ever having had the opportunity to go through with a grievance, also unsure of the exact procedures. I emailed three of the senior union executives, and only one of them ever answered me. So, I did what I was told to do and then waited to receive an answer. No answer came. I sent another email about the issue and was told that they hadn't heard from my co-worker and therefore they couldn't move on it. I replied that they were supposed to get back to me and then explained my frustration with how this had been handled.

I constantly have to hear about how unreliable the part-time union reps are and how unwilling the membership is to pursue grievance cases, etc. More than once, when I've looked for advice or had questions for the senior executive, they have not followed through and/or answered me. I finally said as much and have now received an email that makes me wonder why I bother at all. I'm sick and tired of being made to feel like I'm inadequate in my position as steward, tired of bothering with any of this at all. I'm unsure how to answer the letter, which, yet again, pins me with the blame and questions my commitment. What I'd like to say in response is something along the lines of, "Fuck you. I'm sick and tired of this crap. Maybe if you think the part-time executives are lacking in commitment, you should take a look at how you behave toward them. I quit." Unfortunately, this is probably not the best way to handle the situation and it certainly doesn't help my co-workers.

Anyway, I've decided to think on this a bit before I take action. I'm angry and irritated and I know from experience that this is not a good time to make a decision.

It's Tuesday before noon and I'm killing time before my one o'clock class. I suspect that this will become part of my routine, spending an hour in the computer lab at Fleming in order to avoid the cafeteria or something. This morning's class was "Fundraising and Grantsmanship", which will, I suspect, be more interesting than I previously thought. While I personally despise raising money - it's well outside my interests - I seem to end up doing it more often than anything else. I don't know why that is, but I suppose this class will give me a boost in that area for all my inevitable non-profit fundraising activities of the future.

Yesterday was painful. I arrived at class with just barely four hours of sleep and was treated to possibly the least interesting talk (it isn't even worth calling a lecture) that particular instructor, whom I usually enjoy a lot, has ever given. It was eyeball-spooningly boring and succeded only in causing math anxiety in 3/4 of the class. For next week a calculator is needed. I haven't -needed- a calculator since grade 12 (when I finally completed grade 11 general math). There's even going to be a math TEST. For me, there is nothing so terrifying as a math test. Just thinking about it makes me tense. Following class, as much for exhaustion as for terror, I put myself back to bed and slept for another four hours.

In other news: I have very little to report. There's stuff on my mind, and I had a wild dream yesterday that I'd love to recount, but I'm just so uninspired that I think I'll end here.

It's not really a surprise, though I think I used to be less thinky than I ranked this time. That's okay, it's nice to know I think some of the time. I just came back from some mindless mall-wandering with my mother. We went to find her some new duvets and me some new jeans, since I split mine while painting Rick's living room last week. What we ended up with were no jeans, a bunch of groceries, an excellent hat each (from Mark's Work Wearhouse), and a faux tiger rug (I've named it Rupert) that will become the main element to this year's Hallowe'en costume. You can't start too soon making a costume.

I went to Bluenotes to buy the same type of jeans I bought over the summer and I was stunned to discover that they didn't remotely fit. In five months, I have not gained that kind of weight, so I have no idea what happened. The salesgirl said that sometimes the design changes, so my response was, "It's not the same kind of pants, then, so they should change the name, too." Bugger. Anyway, then I tried to find the same concealer I've used for the last five years, since it came out, Air Wear by L'Oreal. It's the only concealer that I've been almost 100% satisfied with. So, today I learned that it's been discontinued. ROAR ! Oh well, I'll just have to test different varieties and see what comes close.

Good thing I found those tiger rugs to cheer me up. And the hat. It's a great hat. it is like the one I had in highschool only less Russian Army and more sporty, but black and peaked with ear flaps that can be taken down. Mom also bought a hat. Hers is a tan/brown rabbit fur hat that is kind of like a Russian Bomber-style hat. It's cute and perches up on her head, but has flaps that come down over her ears, too.

And, that's pretty much been my day. :)

Jung Explorer Test
Actualized type: ENTP
(who you are)

ENTP - "Inventor". Enthusiastic interest in everything and always sensitive to possibilities. Non-conformist and innovative. 3.2% of the total population.

Preferred type: ENFP
(who you prefer to be)

ENFP - "Journalist". Uncanny sense of the motivations of others. Life is an exciting drama. 8.1% of total population.

Attraction type: ENTP

(who you are attracted to)

ENTP - "Inventor". Enthusiastic interest in everything and always sensitive to possibilities. Non-conformist and innovative. 3.2% of the total population.

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Well, it's a brand new year and nothing has changed. People all over are making resolutions, and probably have already broken some of them in just a few waking hours. I, for one, do not bother with resolutions. It's a false way of setting goals. In fact, I rarely go and set goals, because something in me just hates trying to achieve them. I'm much better off doing things slowly, bit by bit, one day at a time, and for the last year, I think I have done a good job.

I'm back in school and love it. Sure, not everything has been wonderful, and there is a couple of things that I look forward to improving this semester, but no unrealistic goals for me. I don't plan to be the best in my class, but if I do my work and make the effort, I might just manage it. I think that I'm above the class average, but I really don't know. Regardless, I'm not in this programme to win. I'm in it to set my course through life.

2004 started with me ending a relationship with someone I thought was my friend, who I supported and gave my everything to, to the detriment of my finances, my relationship with Rick, and my own personal needs. I was picking up the pieces of what I'd had with Rick after a few turbulent months apart. I had no faith that things would work with him or that we would last more than a few weeks, but I was pleasantly surprised. Over the course of the year, Rick and I have developed a much stronger relationship than we ever had before, that is full of love, (I hope) respect, and fun.

In September, I moved back home with Mom for the first time after seven years or so. I was a bit concerned about it and the changes it might bring, but discovered soon enough that this was one of the best things I could have done. My mother and I have become good friends and enjoy each other's company immensely. I try not to think about moving out again. A year isn't enough. I tell ya, it's really nice to be home. Who ever said you can't go home again, clearly didn't have a mother like me.

Now, this last month has been difficult. I lost a person dear to my heart and watched to loved ones come very close to ruining the lifelong bond they share with another person. A tsunami rolled over a massive number of people and destroyed lives. It put my own grief in perspective and then reminded me just how lucky I really am. If you're reading this, then you're lucky, too.

Please do the best you can this new year, and through out the year. Give and receive graciously, and remember your please and thank yous. Value your own worth and that of the people around you. I wish you good health and happiness and many more new years to come.

Happy New Year.

Having just enjoyed a blueberry bran muffin and the remaining half of my (now cold) coffee, I feel extremely lucky that I can indulge in such simple pleasures. A coffee. A muffin. A lunch break during my day at work. A routine.

The tsunami's effects have been devestating, with an estimate of deaths well over 100,000 people. One Hundred Thousand. That is more people than live in Peterborough and Lindsay combined. One Hundred Thousand. It is so many, in fact, that I cannot even begin to wrap my head around it. It is utterly incomparable. Even my own fascination with catastrophic weather and geological events cannot persuade me that this is anything but horrific. Awesome, but horrific.

In my group of friends, over at Live Journal, they're all busy putting banners on their websites for donations to the relief of the countries hit by the event. They're also donating. But there is starting to be a resentment from those who cannot afford to make donations. Backlash at being told that even five dollars is worth it. Yes, it is worth it. But, I also know how it feels to not have enough to ride the subway, let alone donate five bucks.

Here's what I say to the people on either side of the argument. Let those who can donate NOW, do so. Let those who cannot be at peace because at some point in the future, maybe they will be able to make a donation. Aid isn't something that lasts for only a moment. In six months time, Indonesia and Sri Lanka will still need assistance. There will still be people mourning, people without homes, and people without what we consider the basic necessities of life. The victims of last year's earthquake in Bam are still struggling to rebuild after their impoverished city was demolished, sadly, this time next year we will be able to say the same for those affected by the tsunami.

So, remain calm. Do what you can. Give what you can. If you can't give now, give later. Offer a prayer. Offer your services to a volunteer organisation if you still feel guilt. It's okay.

A Christmas Verse

Christmas is over, the turkey's finished, too.

Everyone is suffering from the Christmas flu.

If you didn't like your presents

You can take them back today.

The consumerist bonanza

Will last 'til New Years Day.

It doesn't really feel as though I've had Christmas. In years before, December has been filled with sweet anticipation for a time of togetherness, friends and family, good food, and cozy warmth. All was going according to plan until Scott's death. Although, for me, the keeness of the pain has passed, his death and the suffering his family must be going through has hung over this holiday like a dark cloud.

Then there was Christmas dinner at the S--'s. Again, in other years, this event was something to be looked forward to. Since J--'s stroke; however, it becomes more forced and unpleasant. J--'s husband and my mother do not get along. They never really have, but they endure each other because of J--. The difference, now, being G--'s resentment that bubbles to the top at almost every visit. My mother struggles to come into Toronto to visit her dear friend, suffering her own chronic pain and illness thanks to fibromyalgia and G-- demeans her. He mocks her illness and makes her feel utterly unwanted. In this case, it was even worse than normal because she had cooked the turkey and cranberry sauce and stuffing and brought them in with her for the Christmas meal. Instead of gratitude (and really, is that so much to ask for?), she was brushed off and essentially told to do whatever with the food because she (and it) wasn't wanted. What made this even more offensive is that this, and the ensuing argument, occurred in front of J--.

The tension, as you can well imagine, was terrible all night. And even though J--'s son and daughter-in-law arrived with their little baby, the tension never really lifted. It was the most unjolly Christmas dinner I can remember, with the possible exception being my first dinner with Rick's parents, when I had to be hospitalised with a migraine.

All I've really wanted to do for the duration of the holiday was sleep. Sleep away the grief, sleep away the stress, sleep away the days. I haven't even had the time to watch The Box of Delights as I've either been too busy, or asleep. I'm looking forward to the week after New Years for the simple reason that I'll be able to enjoy some peace and quiet with my mother and finally do Christmas, if a little late.

I know I'm lucky. I know that terrible things have happened around the Indian Ocean and thousands of lives were lost in a matter of hours. I know that war rages and compared to the families whose lives are torn apart by strife, starvation, and anguish, mine is a charmed life. I know that the gifts I received were what I asked for. I know that despite everything, I am deeply loved. I'm thankful every day for these things. But that doesn't mean I can't want the magic of the season and, this year, the magic didn't come.

Last night, Rick and I went to a Saturnalia hosted by my friend, Cara and her roommate. It was enjoyable enough, sans kink. Had we wanted to, we could have joined in the playing on the second floor, but when it comes down to it, sex with people that aren't us doesn't really blow up our skirts. Anyway, there was enjoyable conversation all around and the food was GREAT. Rick and I brought our veggies, pita, and various dips/spreads, which went over well as there was a general lack of vegetable matter. I'm afraid I ate a few too many brandy beans, but I stayed sober. I decided not to drink because of the emotional business with Scott. I didn't need the added pain of alcohol-induced depression.

Scott's on my mind constantly. I keep thinking about him and how good a person he was. What a devoted husband and father; I think about Megan's heartbreaking loss. It's so sad. I find tears coming to my eyes at random, unexpected moments, and my heart constricts. Life isn't fair. I can't help thinking that the Powers that Be simply made a mistake, or that Someone somewhere lost a game of dice.

There's been a lot of loss in my life, but this is the first time I've lost a friend. Yes, there was a friend in highschool who killed herself, but we'd grown apart and it didn't feel as close as this. And, her death wasn't really a great surprise, as sad to say as that is. Scott was stolen from a huge array of loved ones, yanked from a happy life that had not been easy for him. He was gentle and good and people took him for granted and treated him with less respect than he deserved. Though we lived far apart, he was a close peer and good friend.

As time passes, I know that his death will affect me less, but when I miss him, the feeling will be keen and deep. Life will go on for me, for his family, for his friends. But there will forever be someone missing.

Scott "Grishnakh" Wiggins
1974 - 2004
Sleep well.

This was supposed to be a happy fun post about all the things I did this week and how happy I am to be out of school for three weeks, but instead, I need to write about a dear friend of mine.

Scott (Tox) Wiggins died yesterday morning of an apparent heart attack. He was 30. I met him on-line, but came to know him personally when he visited Toronto and I visited him in Virginia. I introduced him to his wife and attended their wedding in 2001. They have a child, Jeffrey, who is three years old and has Scott's eyes. I haven't seen Scott in two years, or more, because that's just how things work, and now I won't see him again.

My Christmas card arrived in the mail to them just a few days ago and I just spoke to Scott recently. Things had finally settled down for him and his family. He'd had a hard time getting work after their decision to settle in Mississippi, and they moved to Tennessee not long ago and found life there much better. He'd gotten a job that he enjoyed and was living a loving life with his wife and son. It was a house full of love and happiness.

This is not how things should be, but as Megan, his widow (and also my good friend), said, "He's finally getting to meet my father... now I have two angels looking out for me." I can only imagine how she must feel. The heart ache must be profound. She has her mother looking after her, thankfully, and there will be a memorial held at Scott's mother's house in Virginia where she will be surrounded by loved ones.

I spoke to her last night. She says that she's numb. I know what that feels like. That I understand. I told her Rick and I would try to attend the memorial service on Wednesday, but I recognise that it's not very likely. The costs are prohibitive and in the end, I can give her support and love just as easily from here. It is a difficult decision, but there really isn't any other way that I can forsee.

Scott was a dear person, the kindest, gentlest, warmest person. I know I will miss him keenly and I won't be alone in that. He touched many people and positively affected their lives. Life isn't fair, but there isn't anything we can do. I thank God that he passed in his sleep, next to his adoring wife. The last words he heard spoken by her, "I love you, baby."

Scott, I love you, too.

I have stories, but for now, this:

My pirate name is:

Captain Mary Kidd

Even though there's no legal rank on a pirate ship, everyone recognizes you're the one in charge. Even though you're not always the traditional swaggering gallant, your steadiness and planning make you a fine, reliable pirate. Arr!

Get your own pirate name from fidius.org.

If only Rick had a fireplace, this would be perfect. We put up his tree tonight. It's early for me, but I know he comes from a Christmas house where the entire month is decorated so I can let it go. Anyway, it was enormous fun. I refused to let him play Tool while we did it. Last year I allowed Michael Jackson, but I draw the line at Tool - it's really a little too heavy. *laugh* We spent about ten minutes fishing around on different Christmas themed Internet radio stations and finally found a wonderful one - it might as well be MY collection. It features everthing from Bing to Sesame Street Christmas !

I brought my ornaments from last year (the ones I made from dough last year due to extreme poverty) and combined them with his ornaments and we have one festive tree ! I'm not into the multicoloured large lights like he is, I like my tree lights a little smaller, and generally white, but his tree is a nice combination of both our tastes. Now I just need to find him a real star for the top of his tree, although there's something quaint about the silver plastic thing we're using.

Anyway, in other news, I was in Etobicoke last night. Why? you ask. Good question. Well, for starters, I was at the Polish Consulate. I was there in order to take photographs of the PSO's music director as he received a medal from the Consul for his contribution to Polish culture abroad. I took MANY photos and some of them came out really well, especially the one where he's actually being pinned. There were delicious hors d'euvres following the ceremony and then we were invited to someone's house where there was some of the most delicious food I've enjoyed in a long time. I promise that nothing I ate there was remotely appropriate for someone doing Weight Watchers. Heh.

I have not had herring so delicious as what I ate last night since we were in Holland almost a decade ago. Fabulous ! Heerlijke ! There was also a cheesecake that was unlike any cheesecake I've ever had. I -think- it was made with poppy seed filling with a fluffy cheesy top and a honey soaked pound-cake sort of bottom. It was very crumbly but well worth the mess. I'm afraid to admit it, but I had two pieces. :)

Tomorrow, after work, I'm flying home again in order to attend the PSO's Christmas concert. That should be fun. I haven't seen them in a while so I'm due. Then I have another party to attend... THEN I have to write some policy for school. This is the last week of the semester and I'm running something around an 88% average, which for me is unheard of. Go me ! Anyway, I've got three or four assignments to deal with before it's all done on the 17th. I'm working that night and the following day, but the evening of the 18th, Rick and I are going to a party and you can bet I'll be celebrating.

Oh baby. It's so exciting ! And now, it's time for bed. I meant to go to bed half an hour ago, but I guess I had to take a moment to unwind with my weblog.

December 6th: Sinterklaas in Holland; a day of rememberence in Canada. Read my post here.

In other news: I'm sick. Willi is an irritating (though undoubtably adorable) cat. I desperately need a holiday. There is snow on the ground.

The holidays can't come soon enough - I am tired. Yes, tired of work and school and no days off, of commuting to and from Toronto, of scheduling social events three weeks in advance just to make sure they fit in. That said, I am very happy and ultimately in great humour. I had a very nice weekend despite the work and whatnot, because I saw friends, had a good time, and ultimately got to spend some quality time with...

eBay?

Oh shit, ya. Let me tell you a little story. When I was a kid, around seven years old through until I was ten or eleven, TVO used to air the television adaptation of John Masefield's Box of Delights. I watched this special every year, no matter where we were going for dinner or with whom. Then, suddenly, it stopped being aired. I never forgot it and I watched the TV listings year after year in the vain hope that I would find it. I knew it was based on a book, but I hadn't ever read it. When I entered my teens, I started to look for the book. These being the years before mainstream Internet service, I had to roam around in used booksellers and hope for the best.

Needless to say, this quest carried on into my twenties. I could find other books by Masefield, but never Box of Delights and no book shop ever called me back to tell me they had found a copy. A break through occured when I was near to finishing university, when Julie, my mother's best friend, scored a major coup. She had found it - or at least some of it. She had gotten her hands on the paperback version published at the same time as the television special first aired, 1984, which had been abridged to only what was in the film version. I was thrilled, and yes, it was just like the movie.

I hadn't known it was available abridged until that point. Thus began a new quest: to find the complete volume uncut. At the same time as this, I had begun to scour specialty video stores in the hope of finding the film version, too. I knew it was out there, but I couldn't find it. I started using the Internet a couple of years ago, but I had so little money that when I did come across it, it was either in the PAL format and would need to be transfered for viewing in North America, or it was simply too expensive. Also, I wanted to make sure it was complete, because, like the book, there seems to be an abridged film version, too.

So, flush with paycheque and no longer living on my own and paying rent, I signed up for eBay, a thing I'd carefully avoided until scant days ago. You see, I found not only the movie, but two versions in print - one a fairly recent imprint illustrated by Quentin Blake (hooray !), the other the first edition hardback imprint from 1935. I'd entered a bidding war over the latter and never expected to actually win it. And, in the mean time, I won both the video AND the other book.

In other news (continued at 1am Monday morning): My very good friend, Nicole, and her beau threw a party to celebrate their love and announce their betrothal. Yes, they'll be handfasted with flowers in the Spring, so now I'll be attending three weddings and a handfasting in the space of five months. Thankfully, I don't have to be a bridesmaid. The party was a very good time and I let my hair down for the first time in months and months and got drunk. Actually, I can't recall being -drunk- since He Who Shall Not Be Named's victory party last November. Damn, I am so responsible. Anyway, it was a great time for me with merry-making and socialising and was fine for Rick, until the taxi ride home. It seems not being able to drink responsibly in social situations runs in the family. Poor kid tossed more than cookies.

I purchased my gift to the couple at "Christmas Street" at the Bay. It is a terrifying place. I plan to take my camera in and get pictures in the freakier themed sections (like "Peter Pan and his Fairy Friends" - I kid you not). I wish them a life of love and respect for each other and happiness and other important and positive things.

And now... to bed.

Without a Trace is one of those television shows that I watch mostly because my mother likes it and that way it kind of counts as quality time. That's not entirely fair, I actually do rather like the show. It has good characters, it's well acted, and the stories can be quite gripping. Last night was one of those stories. The plot concerned an eleven year old boy who went missing from his elementary school. It wasn't really about his disappearance, though, but about the bullying that went on in his school, principally the bullying doled out by the girls in his class. It was very well handled, and very honest.

And it was very powerful. Years after my own experiences with classroom bullying, experiences that I have never burried, nor forgotten, that have remained with me in everything I do in life, this story affected me deeply. I don't wallow in the past, and I have risen far above the abuses to become a strong, able, beautiful woman, and those experiences have helped make me who I am. What I did not expect was bursting into tears at the close of the episode, my body wracked by convulsive sobs. This took me entirely by surprise, having, for the most part, watched the show through a veil of detatchment (I had been painting dough ornaments).

It was a long time ago, as my mother said. It was. A long time ago, but sometimes still pretty fresh. I don't doubt that the abuses I suffered (and it was abuse, no question there) made me who I am today, or at least influenced me. I deeply value honesty and integrity, fair play and kindness. I look for those things in my friends and I try to be a good person. Bullies are both boys and girls, though sometimes I think that the attacks made by girls are far more subtle and venomous, therefore more vicious than the black eyes and hazing by boys. I don't know. With boys, I knew where I stood and a well placed fist usually did the trick. Anyway, I commend the writers of Without a Trace for taking on a subject more often brushed aside or totally mishandled by adults and the media.

As for the bullies in my life, I tried googling them and came up empty handed, which, no doubt is for the best. And I know that if they haven't been paid back in karma yet, one day, they will be. Even if I never know about it, and frankly I don't, I have the satisfaction of knowing that in the end, I am the better person and despite all their attempts, I have won.

You know what would have been nice? What would have been nice would have been Georgie Bush coming to Canada and thanking Canadians for sheltering all the stranded American travellers after 9-11 maybe a little closer to the time of the event. Three years later is TOO FUCKING LATE. What an assmonger.

In other news, I have good news. School continues to be great, my lowest mark remains an A- and I just got two grades back, including one on an assignment I had thought we'd kind of blown. The first one was an incredibly tedious assingment that had myself and my partner sitting in on a pair of board meetings and then writing about. Okay, so we nailed it with an 88%. Not bad considering we thought our critical thinking was a little lacking. The other assignment (with the same partner) was for the class we both dislike. We had thought, after the fact, that we'd done a shoddy job of wrapping our textiles, but apparently it wasn't too bad. Not too bad with a 91% ! Woo, baby, a nice A+ ! Sweet.

That's all I had to say, so I guess I'll sign off, for now.

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.

What a great weekend.

Friday: Took the evening bus into Toronto. I hopped onto the Queen Streetcar and headed East to Rick's house. When I arrived, Spaceballs was just starting on his TV and Indian curry was imminent. Curry and cult-flicks go very well together. I don't think I've ever had delivery Indian food, either, so that was a fun change. I played Fable for an hour and then headed for bed. Rick joined me and together we conked out in under five minutes. Fridays nights are pretty boring for us. *laugh* Unfortunately, Rick's clicking and tooth-grinding woke me up repeatedly and even shoving him didn't work. I considered moving to the couch, but that's not so bright an idea when the alarm clocks are in his room and I have to get up for work.

Saturday: I worked at the ROM, of course, and had the coveted position of being principle Breaks-person. Hurray ! I like this position because you get to move around, you have a little responsibility, and generally, it speeds up the day. As it turned out, things have picked up a bit on the weekends now and most of the cashes were busy throughout the day. I went for lunch with Cheryl, something we don't get to do much of anymore, and because it was so bloody gorgeous out, we ate our crepes while sitting on a bench in Philosophers' Walk behind the museum. There was a little girl who was vigourously feeding the pigeons and a very ballsy sparrow (he even landed on Cheryl's shoe). She had no concept of invading our space in order to give muffin crumbs to the birds and we enjoyed her presence. She was a refreshing change from the stuffiness of the Rotunda.

After work, I zipped back to Rick's where I took a wee nap, had some greasy wonton soup and then dressed for Alana's birthday party. She lives in the same warehouse studio complex that Nicole lives at, in my old neighbourhood. I so enjoy that complex. I'd love to get a space in it. Her party involved a lot of alcoholic options and some very delicious dips. Good conversation was had and Rick ended up being quite social. I met her cats, Po and Twig (aka. Mr. Plumpers), and generally had a nice time. Rick and I left around quarter past eleven and came to the realisation that we're old now. I can't remember the last time I left a party before midnight. Man.

Sunday: We had the plan to visit a local school's haunted house and despite the weather being typical of mid-autumn - cool and drizzly - we headed out. This after a somewhat tasty breakfast at Rick's local greasy spoon. It's the kind of diner that has been around for ever. The tables and chairs are probably thirty years old, the chairs at any rate, and everyone knows everyone. It's the kind of place where a young middle-class family is enjoying brunch at one table while the mother breast-feeds, a working-class couple discuss the stupidity of the pit-bull ban at the table beside us, students fill another table, and an older married couple sit together by the window, each reading their own sections of the paper and not talking. Anyway, back to the haunted house.

Pape Avenue PS runs a hanted house for Hallowe'en where they have activities, food, raffles draws, and whatnot, and of course, the haunted house. For four bucks, we figured we'd go check it out and see what it was like. It was definitely worth four bucks. It was really well done, right down to a freaky hag eating rubber snakes, freaky low ceilings in pitch blackness, a creepy mime, and lots of great sets. It was peopled with students from the school, faculty (I think) and other parental types, and we left it with big smiles on our faces. I got some good jumps when things startled me, and I especially liked the girl portraying the mime - she was five feet nothing in height and followed Rick all over.

When we got home, I got to play a lot more of Fable, which is perfectly alright by me, because it seems Greyhound has stopped running the late afternoon/evening buses to Peterborough. I had a lot of time to kill before the midnight bus. It was really nice to do nothing all day, let me tell you. A welcome reward before I have to start working again, today.

Three years and a day. That is how long I've been keeping this journal. When I started, way back in October of 2001, I thought it would be temporary, something to fill the gap while I was busy learning computer animation and not having time to email everyone directly. The world was beginning to adjust to the "new normal" (I still hate that expression) after the tragic events of Sept. 11, 2001. I was working at Heretic, which had, at the time, a storefront on Queen Street West. I was living with Justin in my favourite apartment on Manning Avenue (with crazy Adeleina my landlady just downstairs, "I tell you, no boys !"). Willi had been with me for under a year. Rick had been with me for a year and a half. Al and Carrie weren't married yet, my mother was still working, and I thought I was going to be a computer animator for film or games.

I still have Willi. I still have Rick. I've lost touch with Justin. We're only days from the US election. Al and Carrie have been married a year and a half. Tanya's next in line for matrimony. I'm fairly certain I'll never work in film or games and I'm MUCH happier with my life now. Happy Anniversary, Meanderings !

In other news:

I've spent forty minutes or so, earlier tonight, researching spiders with my mother. You see, it's not just at the ROM where I'm called upon to answer questions about things I know little about, it is from near family, too. Over Thanksgiving, our friend Jean (who is something of a surrogate grandma), gave me a spider she'd trapped some time earlier. Unfortunately, it had been starving in a pill bottle for a while and was quite shell shocked when she gave it to me, but the idea was that I should look at it and tell her what kind of spider it was. I, being arachnaphobic, handed it immediately to my mother and off we went with our little friend. I promised Jean that I'd either determine what it was for her (the internet is a wonderful thing) or take it to the ROM to an entymologist.

Now, there was NO WAY IN HELL that I was taking it in the car and then in on a bus to Toronto to have anyone look at it. Mom and I did some preliminary research back at our cottage that last night - she has books about everything up there - and came away with some possible species. The thing is, the book was some forty years old and most of the pictures were illustrations or black and white photos. I needed some colour happening for me. Also, not all of the illustrations showed the spiders from all angles, and that meant uncertainty. We released the poor thing the following day having, at the very least, determined that although it was a large variety of something, it was nothing to be frightened of.

A few days after having come back to the Petes, I did some internet research and narrowed my possibilities down to three, though I was leaning much more heavily to two of them. I decided it was probably some sort of orbweaver at the very least. Tonight, Mom asked me if I'd ever found out what kind of spider it was and I updated her. We came upstairs to check out some sites and my favourite one was down, http://www.whatsthatbug.com . Poop. The Internet is vast and far-reaching, but most of the links we called up came close, but no cigar. Then I had a brainwave. I have them sometimes. I recalled that a long while back, I'd had a dream about a spider and ended up looking for it on the 'net. I remembered that I'd posted a link in this very journal about it. And what do you know, but that very page provided me with an answer ! We found an a spider almost identical to the one at the cottage. It was an Araneas orb-weaver. This was one of the two possibilities I'd highlighted in my notes.

I am most proud of my Internet research skills. Really, I do rock. Good thing, too, since I have to make use of them over the following week. This reading week is NO slack week. Phew. I'll have as much work to do as if it were any other week, only no classes to get in the way.

I had forgotten what it's like to live from project to project. I have trouble thinking more than a few days ahead because I have so many school assignments due. For instance, when I'd presented my project on Thursday, I started to think about my assignment due on Friday (yesterday). Now I'm thinking about the project due on Monday. Happily, there's not much that I need to do for that one, so I'm able to think ahead to Tuesday's report. That's a bit of a biggie. I'll spend most of tomorrow working on it. After Tuesday, I get to think about the next project due on Friday. If you ask me to hang out, get together, or anything, I usually can't say whether I can or not. If I forget my agenda, like I did this weekend, nevermind, I can't make any plans at all since they have to be worked around my projects.

It was nice to be at my cottage for four days over Thanksgiving, but to be quite honest, it already seems like an eternity ago. The weather wasn't terrific, but neither was it bad. It got progressively cooler each day and night and by Sunday, we had the stove going all day long. That wood stove keeps the cottage nice and toasty and fills the air with the wonderful scent of woodsmoke. Combine that with the smell of roasting turkey and mulling cider and it's olfactory heaven ! Of course, we left Chester behind with a babysitter and neither Mom nor I felt much guilt about that. The girls behaved very well and enjoyed having doors opened and closed at most hours. Melody divided her time between Mom and me, while Willi slept with me exclusively. Willi and I took a little walk together - it's very cute the way she does that. She rarely lets me get more than twenty feet away when we go walking and she talks to me regularly as we explore. When Mom and I took a long walk down the road, we had to make sure Willi was distracted with something else or she would come along and we don't want her near the road.

Speaking of roads, I do have a bit of bad news. The highway that so long ago was intended to serve Mirabel Airport from Montreal (a useless airport) is finally going through. We've been saved for twenty years from its arrival. Mirabel failed to generate much traffic and money has been tight for make-work projects. Now, however, as Mont Tremblant is built up and built up, the powers that be want to put a direct route from Ottawa to Tremblant and therefore they're extending Highway 50, stalled for a decade or more, through our hills. So, now it's really happening. We'll hear it, of course, but not as badly as it could have been. Once, it had been planned to go in just below our camp, but now it'll be nearly a mile down the road. They plan to build an over pass for our road so we won't need a service road to get down to the old highway, which is good, but the construction will be awful. As I understand it, the road is slated to go in in 2007 or 2008. Here's hoping that there are further delays.

Another week of class down - two more to go until Reading Week. Gone are the days when a week off from class meant slack time. Looking at my planner for the coming weeks, it only gets worse from then on in. As it stands, I'm already taking about 10 hours of homework with me to the cottage. This is one of the few times I've ever wanted to have a computer up there. I took one, once, and tried to write my 'novel' but there are just so many other things to do... This time I have no choice. The work has to get done. And, the day after I come back, I have to do a presentation. Hee. Yikes.

We all got our marks for the first group assignment. My group did very well, scoring 86.4%, which is not to be sneezed at. With two marks of four back from my first class, I'm running about 89%. Hopefully, that can be upped. I really want to do well. Really well. This is kind of exciting, since previously, I didn't care so long as I didn't utterly disgrace myself.

Yesterday, before going to class, I did something I haven't done in about two years; horseback riding. I went for a lesson with Kerri, rode a nice gelding named Kid, and realised that I am totally out of shape. At least out of riding shape. My body was willing and remembered what to do, but my muscles simply couldn't maintain it. I'm so weak ! Also, since I've put on weight without riding at the same time, I hadn't adapted to it and found myself terribly off balance. By the end of the ride, I'd regained some balance, but it was sooooo uncomfortable. I've pretty well committed to at least one lesson a week - I need it. I would like to be in good enough shape that following school and internship, I can spend a week riding with Christopher Todd. I mean to take him up on his invitation and if I can do it, I'd like to so sometime before I embark on my career.

Needless to say, I'm bloody sore today, and I'll be extra stiff tonight after the drive out to the cottage. We're leaving Chester behind - I can't recall if I mentioned in this journal that he'd come back, but he has. Friends of ours used the cottage for a week halfway through September and started calling him as soon as they got there. He turned up on their second day, dishevilled, skinny, and exhausted. Anyway, we're leaving him in the Petes where he can be babysat and we don't have to worry that he'll end up lost again. We'll take the girls, Melody and Willi, since they pretty well stay close to home and Melody needs meds every day. Despite the homework and shorter days, I'm looking forward to the cottage so much. It'll be a bit chilly in the outhouse in October and swimming will be pretty much out of the question, but there will be walks to take and books to read and, generally, it will be good. I really need this break from class.

Have a happy and safe Thanksgiving (Columbas Day, if you're in the States).

There is something incredibly satisfying about finishing a paper. Unfortunately, tonight I get to have that feeling twice, which means the usual collapse at the end of one is followed... by another. I'm having a difficult time embracing the bigger (and unfinished) of the two. I've been working on it for a week now and was granted the blessing of an extension, but it's due tomorrow and it still isn't finished. I have a low-grade migraine - I've been getting a lot of them lately and I fear that I'm going to have to get a new prescription for the heavier hitting drugs if the Advil stops working. That's a topic for another night. Now, I'm just concerned I get this paper done. So why am I writing in my weblog? Well, I never said I could do it without procrastinating, did I? Actually, part of the reason I'm writing here instead of in Microsoft Word is just to get the juices flowing and hopefully allow myself the time for a 'eureka' moment.

Maybe I should take a bath.

Other than working and writing papers over the last few days, I've also been watching Mt. St. Helens like a vulture watches a kill site. I'm waiting. I'm hoping to catch something exciting on the volcano cam. Yes, they have a webcam directed at the mountain and it updates every five minutes. Four days ago, there was a little steam and some yellow-tinged gas and for a few hours all was calm. Then it started to rumble again and has been letting off steam and a bit of ash at irregular intervals. Now, after not having checked the cam for a day and a half, there's a dome in the centre of the crater. A lava dome, I guess. For those of you who don't know what that is, here's the lay person's description. Basically, the volcano sealed itself after its last erruption, lava hardening in the crater when it stopped spewing. Now, the gases given off by magma (lava while it's in the earth) are building up, forcing the seal to bend. Something like a rock pimple, the dome can do either two things. One, the gases can escape from a side vent or slowly and the event will be minor or, two, it can rupture the dome and blow its top. You see, despite bending as it is, that dome is made of rock and rock can only bend so much. "Booma booma !" as they say.

Naturally, I hope for the latter because I'm a weirdo who gets a high from geologic and climatic events. It could be worse, I could get my highs from drugs. I'd love to go on a storm chasing holiday, but with real scientists, like a grad student would. Research is cool, see? Anyway, Mt. St. Helens is exciting because it is active and close, at least psychologically speaking; it's on the same continent as me, unlike, say, Etna or Mauna Loa. One day, I'm going to climb an active volcano and peer down inside its crater and marvel at the heat radiating up through the special protective soles of my shoes.

But, today is not that day. Today is for finishing papers. The Advil is starting to take effect and the juices are flowing. Flowing like lava.

In the great, grand scheme of things, I'm pretty insignificant, but working register four at the ROM really makes me feel it. I'm all the way at the back. No one looks down here at me, or hears me when I'm calling for the next in line. On the other hand, it's a very pleasant, stress-free post. Good thing I'm wearing my awesome harlequin socks. I bought them last night, the two last pairs of them at this neat store on Queen Street that specialises in accessorising feet. They're both red and yellow diamonds, but one has blue and the other has black. They're super funky and they actually make it most of the way to my knees. Wow.

In other news, I spent the last half hour discussing museum policies and principles with a co-worker. She's one of the recent hires and I really like her. She did the Arts Education Masters programme at Concordia with a special focus on museums - you can see how we have stuff to talk about. We had a rather animated conversation about what the ROM should be, and more generally the purpose of museums. We argued a bit about how to make Thorsell's ideas into something workable, and basically, we're on the same page, but our approaches differ a bit. We should probably get a drink and discuss it properly when we're not interrupted by patrons, in the place we're discussing. I shall email her and invite her out. Hurray for thinking !

I'm going to walk down to the bus terminal tonight, stopping somewhere cheap for dinner. My bus is at 7:30 since I will miss the 5pm. Annoying, but there's nothing for it. It will give me a bit more time to work on my projects, I suppose. I'll pop into the Pearls exhibit again to further develop my ideas and then I will be all set to write my review tomorrow. Tonight is for finishing my paper (if I can) that was extended to Tuesday.