On my first day at the Yukon Arts Centre, a beautiful bouquet of spring flowers arrived from my mother (and Chester). Although I've pulled out the tulips and some of the little purple flowers have dried up and died, half of the bouquet is still fresh and remains quite attractive - twelve days later ! I, too, am feeling fresh (and attractive !) twelve days into my posting. I've already done a fun variety of things, including hanging a massive 70-piece salmon-related exhibition in the children's gallery. I particularly like the metre-and-a-half long papier mache salmon, which we ingeniously strung from the ceiling. The people are fun and although I'm having some difficulty figuring out exactly what my role here is, I am enjoying it.

I am starting to enjoy Whitehorse, the town, too. Small though it may be, it has many of the things I've come to expect in any locale that claims to be a city. It even has a decent comics/gaming shop on Main Street. It's not The Silver Snail, mind you, but it serves the purpose and they can order things for me. I even took the proactive step of giving them my contact information should anyone be seeking a player for a more 'mature' D&D or similar fantasy-style game. I figure, what the hell? It's a way to meet people outside of work. I have also eaten in one fantastic Mexican restaurant and one less fantastic, but still yummy, Indian place. Restaurants are expensive up here as everything is trucked in and anything 'exotic' is particularly tricky to come by. I also found a decent music store and there is a bookstore I'm itching to browse through. Additionally, I went to the Humane Society and put my name down to start volunteering there. I hope to go there on Thursday for the first time to actually get involved in it. I guess it's a good way to meet the animals and for the cats to figure out which one wants me as a 'mom'. :)

The weather is glorious, if a bit chilly. In twelve days, I think this is only the second cloudy day. I cannot get over how bright and sunny it is. The days have already visibly lengthened since my arrival and probably by the end of the month we'll have surpassed Southern Ontario in daylight hours. I look forward to having a car of my own to explore the surrounding countryside, but when the snow clears, there is also a bicycle at my disposal. I'm not sure I'm quite fit enough to effectively tackle Two-Mile Hill, but there's only one way to find out, right? I have already started to browse the car dealership websites and adverts, though, because this really is a car town. It sprawls up and down mountain sides for kilometres. I've already determined that Subaru is right out of my range, since they no longer make an entry level vehicle. Also, I've determined that it is not necessary to have four-wheel-drive here - most people don't. People seem to do just fine with good winter tires. It looks like entry level Kia or Toyota are my two best choices here. Anyway, we'll see. I do not look forward to paying for a car. Who knows, for summer weekends, it may make more sense just to rent one. I'm more concerned that I find a permanent place to live for May.

Well, I've been here for a week now and despite the bitter, bitter cold (unseasonably so, I've been told), it's not too bad. I mean, really, it's not any colder than Winnipeg was this passed November. In fact, because of the prairie wind, Winnipeg was colder. I am living for a while, rent-free, in the apartment usually used by the interns who come to the Yukon Arts Centre. It's pretty nice, two bedrooms, a fully appointed loo (though with something of a mildew problem), a pretty decent kitchen with a breakfast/dining space, and a living room. There is a parking spot with a plug (for plugging in the block heater to keep the engine warm), which wouldn't matter except that I'm using the gallery station wagon, too. Free car, free apartment? Ya, I'm alright with that. The car is particularly handy as Whitehorse is laid out really oddly, and I live in Riverdale (there's one in every city, isn't there?) and it's quite a long way from the gallery.

The Gallery is really beautiful and in a stunning location. Of course, it would be better for its attendance if it were downtown with everything else, but what can you do? Someone felt it would be good to link the gallery to the theatre and so there it is. But it's a stunning location, sort of perched on a hill overlooking the downtown, with mountains overlooking the Arts Centre in all directions. There are trees and paths through them, the Archives and College are next door, and half way down the hill, there is a minimum security prison. Seriously. Nice spot to be incarcerated. When the sun is setting, the surrounding mountains, which are currently spotted with evergreens and peaked entirely in white snow, turn salmon pink. I shall endeavour to get this caught on camera.

I've been very busy at work, settling in and trying to figure out exactly what I'm meant to be doing. Today was easy, as I spent most of the day working with the Community Programmer to hang a new show of children's art. There are something like seventy pieces on display and we didn't manage to finish mounting it. We shall accomplish this task tomorrow. My lunch break was spent downtown looking at a "miniature" house that will be available to rent come April. It is nice because, though tiny, it has a sheltered yet sunny garden, it's bright during the day, utilities are included, and it's close to lots of neat things. Additionally, the landlord is perfectly happy to allow me to have a cat. On the downside, it is ridiculously small. Were I on my own with no chance of people staying with me, I would probably take it. The thing is, if I am to have guests, things would become much more awkward. It is only two rooms. As well, I'm not sure there is room enough for all my books. So, as adorable as this place is, it just doesn't meet my needs.

Well, I am welcome to stay in this apartment in Riverdale until May, so I'm not concerned. I will begin looking for a place later this month. Ideally, to move into a place for May 1st or 15th would be perfect. I could pack up my stuff before I leave for the United Kingdom and then when I return, make the move and start fresh. Once I have a place, I will get a kitty. I need the company. Additionally, I shall start looking at getting a vehicle later this month. There are a few dealerships up here, including Nissan, Kia, and Subaru, and if you prefer American models, there is a Ford and probably a Chevy dealer, too. As for other stores, there are enough stores to meet my needs. There are the Loblaws-type stores, selling the President's Choice line, there is a Canadian Tire, The Brick, Mark's Work Wearhouse, Ricki's, Reitmans, and a few other shops. There's even a gaming store downtown, which I have been told is far more traditional than the nasty Gaming/Internet cafe by my apartment. I will check it out soon.

I shall wrap up this entry here and talk more of my conceptions soon. No, really, I promise. I have no cable television - I won't have anything better to do. ;)

I'm sitting at Kinsey, my laptop, on the couch, in the company of one sleeping mother, a sleeping border, and a sleeping cat. What are we watching? Well, we were watching the Olympics on CBC, but the feed went. I don't know quite how it happened, but we're - well, just me - watching CSI: Miami, one of the worst television shows known to American TV. I'd get up and get the remote, but I'd hate to wake up the oldies. Anyway, it turns out, based on the truth according to CSI:M, which, as we all know is based on solid proof, reality, and apparently Intelligent Design, most bloggers like to hide messages in their blogs. In honour of this new factoid, I am going to hide text in this message. Are you excited? I'm excited.
I like cats.
Don't know how to read it? Highlight the text. Well, now it MUST be true !
John Fluevog makes fantastic shoes.
There are four days left before I climb into the airport shuttle limosine and leave Peterborough for... well, not forEVER, but for a long time. There is a fair bit of stuff left for me to pack, but I have confidence that it won't take too long. I know where the majority of my electronics are and I have the boxes and bubble wrap to put them away safely for shipping. I have clean laundry to be packed, and then it comes down to my carry-on goodies. Tomorrow I am driving (or taking the bus, depending on the weather) into Toronto one last time in order to enjoy lunch with Rick. This will be the last time I see him for a long time and despite the fact that we broke up in September, it still feels a bit weird that he - and all of my friends, really - will cease to be a tactile part of my life. In a similar vein, I'm carrying Chester around like a baby and he seems to be quite happy to let me do so. I don't think he has put the boxes and suitcases together yet, I'm not following a typical pattern in packing. He will sorely miss me when I go, though; we're good buddies. I will miss him, too. I can only console myself so much with the thought of getting a kitten when I'm settled up there.
Hey, that was a long paragraph, wasn't it?
And my mother? God, I'm going to miss her so much. She is my best friend, my confidante, my biggest fan and firmest supporter. She is my peanut gallery and cheerleader, minus pompoms and kilt. I almost miss her already. Heh. We've been through so much together, and it's very scary knowing that I'm going out on my own. Really on my own. This isn't an hour-and-a-half drive out of Toronto on my own. This isn't even an hour-and-a-half flight on my own. This is two plane rides and 5528km from Toronto. I try not to think about what leaving her will mean to us. Well, that said, I am utterly secure in her love and in the skills she's given me in 28 solid years of parenting. I couldn't ask for a more supportive mother. And as all my friends like to remind me, cool, to boot.
Okay, show's over.

The thing about moving away is that the last couple of weeks before you go, you find yourself surrounded by social events. Sometimes they are of your own invention, for instance, the going-away party that I will be having on this coming Friday, but more often, they are activities (usually eating) thought up by one's friends and family. Yesterday, after a roaring migraine, I had to postpone my lunch with Rick, but following my dental appointment, I was by this time well enough for dinner with friends of the family. Mostly, I enjoyed it, but everyone was accutely aware of one person's absence, by his own choice, and for his own petty reasons. But, photos were looked at, Thai food was eaten, and generally, I had a good time with some of the people I love the most.

Today, or rather tonight, I went back into Toronto and enjoyed dinner with some of my favourite girls from the ROM. It's Winterlicious and so I got to enjoy a fancy restaurant's prix fixe menu. Where? Mildred Pierce Restaurant. If you click the link and enter the site, we were seated at the round table in the corner, which was perfect for lots of conversation and laughter. Even with the special menu, dinner was pricey, but particularly because of the two bottles of wine drunk. Including tip, dinner came to around $375 for five people. Honestly, the cost of alcohol in restaurants is ridiculous. I don't know how they can get away with charging what they do. BUT, nevermind - we had a good time and it was well worth it, at least food-wise. Even though it is Winterlicious, we were not rushed through our meal at all, because Tuesday just isn't a big night in dining.

Later this week, I anticipate the rescheduled lunch with Rick, a brunch with my "Cool auntie Karen" and of course there will be food at my party. Chances are good that there will be at least one other lunch had in Toronto next week, and at least one dinner here in Peterborough. It's a good thing I lost weight in Winnipeg, or I'd have no room to gain it back. ;)

It's been nearly a month since my last post. I have felt quite conflicted about continuing this writing, but after much time, and some not insignificant experiences occuring, I have decided to carry on. The reason is justified: I enjoy writing, and I enjoy sharing stories, and ultimately, I enjoy keeping this journal going. This ought to make my mother happy, though after all this time, she is probably the only person still reading it. Fair enough.

I suppose I should start with the little things that have happened recently. For instance, I am now the proud owner of snow pants. I honestly don't think I've worn snow pants since I was twelve years old. Never mind how long ago that was. I also have big, tall Sorrel snow boots, the kind I've secretly yearned after for a long time. I also got fancy new thinsulate gloves to keep my hands warm when it's terribly cold out and a puffy pink vest for when it's a lot less cold. Not that it's been terribly cold here - in fact, as of today, I saw the irises had broken the soil in the front flower bed, which is not good. Well, not good for the irises, anyway. Februrary is a pretty good time to buy winter clothing because everything is on sale, even though it's not so late in the season that they only have sizes XS and 2X left.

Okay, this 'small' stuff is in fact the lead-up to the 'big' stuff. For those of you that do not know, I will be moving to Whitehorse, Yukon Territory as of February 21st (with a two day stop-over to visit my friend in Edmonton). Let me give you a moment to close your mouth. Yes, the Yukon, as in the Gold Rush. It's true. Why? Well, back when I was living in Winnipeg and feeling quite pleased with myself for having gone far from home to a place that is beyond cold, I decided, on a whim, to apply for a position offered at the Yukon Arts Centre and Public Art Gallery. Advertised as Assistant Curator, it was essentially exactly the sort of career move I had been looking to make, but just the sort one doesn't actually land straight out of school.

Having applied, I promptly forgot all about it, though I was pleasantly surprised by the 'thanks for coming out' email I received from the gallery Curator the following day. Okay, so THEN I forgot about it. The final days of the internship happened, then it was home to the Petes, then time with friends, and then I got ridiculously sick. I lost my voice for over a week. This brings us up to the last post in my journal. It was during this time that I received an email from the Curator inviting me to an informal telephone interview. To be honest, I was more than a little surprised to hear back.

I prepped long and hard for the interview. While I didn't imagine being offered the position, I thought that I should at least impress them, because I was obviously interesting and qualifed enough for the position or else they wouldn't have called me, right? Right. So I prepped. And then, still sounding like a smoker of 40 years, I had my interview. I was terribly nervous. Irrationally nervous, even, but it was easy, fun even. We could have kept talking, I'm sure, but they were on a schedule and it was long distance, but nonetheless, an hour-long interview is impressive by anyone's standards, particularly over the phone.

Once the interview was finished, my nerves really began jangling. I called my academic advisor for his sage knowledge and talked to him for not quite as long as the interview lasted. We went through questions I would need answering before I accepted, and what kind of requirements I would like to have met to turn my indecision into a 'yes'. I mean, seriously, it's Whitehorse, you know? That's damn far away, and nevermind the 'challenging' weather.

When the position was offered to me, it was my turn to ask the questions. I called back the Curator and asked him about things, explained circumstances that could not be altered (for instance, I'm going to the UK in April - there's a museum studies conference). One by one, he met all of my requirements. I told him I would look into the cost of relocation and would get back to him within two days. Even as I hung up the phone, I knew in my heart I was going to say yes. How could I not? How many people, fresh out of school, get to land an Assistant Curator position at an A-rated gallery? Only a very slim number. And an even slimmer number of people are willing to pick up and move themselves across the continent, to a place they've never been, where they know not a single person.

So, now I'm going to Whitehorse, in the middle of the winter, when it's cold, snowy, and still very dark up there, to start a new life for an indefinite period of time. I'm not as scared as I was; now, mostly, I'm excited and proud of myself.

It's a new year and I've been purging myself of the Internet for the last while. I've been doing other things, visiting with friends and loved ones and generally having a nice time without the bother of wondering who was online and whether I wanted to see them. I've had a remarkably good holiday. It's been so good to get home, enjoy the little things I love about Christmas at home, and the company of people I care for. I'm not going to bother with a re-cap, there is no time. 2006 has been upon us for eight days and aside from ringing it in with a terrible cold, and spending it's earliest days mostly in bed, it's been good so far. I am grateful for all the good things in my life, the food, family, and friends. I am lucky. I am loved.

2005 was a very interesting year that taught me many things about myself, good and bad, and I had many varied, exciting experiences. I am a far more complicated person than I thought I was, with many layers, interests, and facets to my personality. I have goals and desires, short and long, and, God willing, 2006 will allow me to attain them. I wish everyone were able to reflect upon the past year and see the same remarkable changes and growth in their lives and look forward to the future with optimism and excitement.

In brief, some of the fun things I've done included going dancing with an old friend and his brother, even if it was at a meat-market club in town. D&D was good and not at all awkward like it might have been, considering R-- was there. In fact, it went so well, I have no hesitation about future sessions. :) I hope that can continue. I went to see Narnia, which was a special film and left me feeling elated. I finally saw the Peterborough Petes play, after 9 years of semi-living here. And, despite the very creepy inflated ref that waves about every time a goal is scored, and the disturbing mascot, it was a blast. I would even do it again. There was a lot of good food, and fun, and whatnot.

In other news, I have been asked by a close friend to delete a post from over a year ago about something that happened which was very unpleasant and nasty. I do not believe in revision, particularly of personal feelings or experiences, and though I love the person who asked very much, and love the person who is implicated as well, I will not delete this post. I have censored names, and that is as far as I am willing to go. The entry reflects my deeply upset feelings, and though I have moved on, I am not going to brush them under the rug. Beyond that, it reflected feelings about a good deal more than just that single incident, and the idea of deleting it is offensive to me.

Perhaps I ought to stop keeping a journal. Perhaps it does me more harm than good, in the long run. I will consider this, but I will not revise my content. If I wish to keep a journal and discuss my personal feelings, express my feelings, that is my decision. No one forces anyone to read this journal. If I google my name, I do so with the knowledge that I might not be thrilled by what I find. And, when the events discussed herein have visibly affected my life, changed it, those events are -clearly- significant, have had lasting outcomes, and I have every right to talk about them.

So, I shall weigh the pros and cons of keeping this journal active, but I will NOT erase it, nor pretend that things which have occured are forgotten or unimportant. And, as I once said to a close old friend who didn't like what I'd had to say about him, "You get lots of good coverage, but if you behave like a dink to me or my loved ones, I'm allowed to talk about that, too. Best solution I can think of is not to behave like a dink."

Let's make 2006 the year of behaving well toward others, let's take the fodder away from the bloggers, and then maybe we won't have reason to be upset by what we find out about ourselves when we troll the Internet. ;)

Happy New Year.

First, let me wish everyone a very Merry Christmas ! Never mind the politically correct, seasonally appropriate greetings, it's Christmas. Most people I know who celebrate other holidays (ie. Jews, Muslims, Buddists) don't care if they are wished a merry Christmas - so long as the sentiment is there. So, my sentiment is this: Be safe, be well, find peace, be kind, and may yours and the generosity of others make your life better, sweeter, and positive. And seriously, I'm good with celebrating the birth of a heroic, important, really cool guy, Messiah or not.

With that out of the way, here is a brief run-down on my life since Friday, but starting with my day yesterday. It started with an idiotically late taxi, which was far more complicated than it needed to be at 4am. Once at the airport, everything else went off without a hitch. My shuttle driver met me moments of coming through the gate and the ride back was a riot. There were two middle aged women from Pittsburgh, PA and Boston, MA heading to the Petes to surprise their cousins, a father and his son coming in to visit from Halifax, NS, me, and a pair of slightly younger 20-somethings who'd arrived from Thunder Bay up in Northern Ontario. Everyone was friendly and fun.

I arrived home in time for lunch, which was yummy homemade soup. My mom's gardner/handyman, Miles, stopped in with his little boy, David. They're ultra Christian, but they're such good, loving people it doesn't matter. David sang the song he performed in the church pageant (he was dressed as a horse) and there were cookies and drinks and stuff. Then I took a bath. I fell asleep in the bath. Then I started on the tree, stopped for dinner (mmm, turkey), finished the tree, wrapped my presents, and was done just in time for the classic, Miracle on 34th St, which is possibly my favourite American Christmas movie not including anything with Muppets. Church was out - I was just too tired to bother with make-up and dressing up and Mom basically felt the same.

I didnt end up at the tavern Friday night, either, because I decided I couldn't handle another round of goodbyes. I decided to make sure everything was packed, vacuumed my apt., and sorted out various other things of import. Then I napped, woke up, played some freecell, went back to sleep and repeated that pattern thrice, before actually getting out of bed at 3am.

Tonight, we're off to the Mutton's for Christmas dinner, as per usual. Much good fun will be had, I'm sure, as will a shrimp ring and a fair amount of wine, presents and games. I don't know what to wear. I'm thinner than I was this time last year, so I shall have to pick more carefully. Tomorrow is D&D here in town, which will be fun. I will pick Rick up at the bus terminal around lunch time, and then later on there will be meatballs courtesy of Al's mom. Yay, meatballs !

Leaving Winnipeg behind was hard. I really loved it there, and more specifically at the Manitoba Museum. I have made friends for life, I know, and my life is better for the bonds built in that three-and-a-half month period. I feel that I have grown in every facet of my being, professionally, personally, emotionally, and developed my independence. I know that the road ahead will be bumpy, and in the direct future, there will be hitches, but I know I can handle it. I have love, health, will, and strength. I can do it. I am lucky. And I am very grateful.

I shall write more in the near future. Merry Christmas, everyone, and Kwanzaa, and later tonight, Happy Hanukkah, too. :)

"When Winston Churchill was told he might have to cut Britain's budget for the arts during World War II, he replied, `Then what are we fighting for?'"

Indeed. Where are the Arts in this electoral campaign? Where is our Culture and Heritage (and I'm not talking about free flags, here)? Why do these rate so low on the funding scale? While agriculture and industry might feed our bodies, furnaces, and cars, what is feeding our minds and souls? People rail against the Americanisation of our culture, yet how can we preserve what we have when we do not fund it, when it takes a back seat to everything else?

Show me a museum or gallery, publically funded, that is not struggling. The Manitoba Museum swoons at the idea of the funding brought in by the Royal Ontario Museum, but when that money is tied to replacing office chairs or massive construction projects, rather than cleaning and renovating existing exhibits, or funding research, what does it matter if they have more of it? If you want fancy looking museums with computer interactives, lofty ceilings, and uniformed greeters, there is the Museum of Civilisation, but there is so little strength to its content, it barely rates on Canada's museum scale. But it has funding and you can -see- it.

This article, from the Toronto Star, goes on at greater length on the issues surrounding Canada's music and theatre arts, so I encourage you to read it.

Arts and Culture should not equal tourism, nor should tourism potential equal funding. And funding should not be based on last year, but the future. This is our history, held for us, for the future, afterall. There is no easy answer for the Arts and Culture sector this coming election. It is a sector far off the map, and the parties with the greatest history of previous significant spending in it have other, flashier priorities now. But think about it; and, if your candidates come to your door, why not ask them about their parties' policies and plans for the future of Canada's Soul Food.

Five days left before I'm home again. Where has the time gone? This time last week I was feeling down about leaving Winnipeg, but now I'm really starting to get excited about going home. Five days ! Currently, the weekend weather is predicted to be warmish and kind of wet in Toronto and warmish and clear in Winnipeg, so hopefully my flight won't be grounded or re-routed. Things can change, though, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

I have basically said goodbye to the neighbourhood I'm living in. I took a walk on Saturday and got a few more photos, and went up to Osborne Village and window-shopped. I can't really afford to do anything else, now. I've got some bills to pay and stuff, so whatever is left on my credit card is being used for that and to ship home the stuff that won't fit in my suitcase.

My plans for when I get home are simple. On Christmas Eve, the tree goes up. Maybe Mom will have gotten a head-start on it. Then I wrap the few presents I have. There will be a little turkey dinner for the two of us and then depending on how exhausted I am, there will either be church or bed. I hope I'm awake enough for church, though, because I love the singing. Ya, that's the reason I go, it's true. Sermon? No. Jesus? Not so much. Singing? Heck yes ! Christmas Day will involve gifts, coffee and (as they say in Winnipeg) dainties, hopefully a long, hot bath and then the big dinner with the Muttons as usual. As for Boxing Day, there seems to be a push to have me play D&D with the gang in the Petes, and since no commuting would be involved, I'm inclined to say yes, but I need to check with Mom to see if we already have plans that she hasn't informed me of.

And, finally, I will now plug my Prints Account at deviantArt. Buy my photographs ! Help a girl out !

Need to buy something for someone but don't know what? Consider buying a print of one of my photographs. :) Yes, this is a shameless plug. But come on, everyone should have art on their walls. Why not make it mine? Hopefully in a day or two, a couple more prints will be available.

I'm dying of the heat - I don't know if it's the effects of my coffee, or the double set of socks and yoga pants beneath my jeans, but wow, I'm sweating. That's the thing, see, I left for work this morning knowing I was over dressed, but the weather forecast calls for falling temperatures through out the day. So, by the time I leave, I will no longer be over dressed. I'm talking about the weather again. *smacks head* Sorry.

Last night I got my international Christmas cards done, but I forgot them at home so I can't mail them today. Three cards to the UK, two cards to Holland, and one to Japan. And, amazingly, with the exception of one card, I've met all these people. I seem to have collected interesting people in my journey through life. Tomorrow I will write my cards to the Americans in my life, and hopefully by the end of the week I shall have all my Canadian cards sent out as well. I feel a little guilty because I can't afford to send anything nice to my sisters in NY, but I haven't had a pay cheque in four months and there just isn't anything left with which to spend, even if I could afford postage.

Friday night was the Manitoba Museum annual staff Christmas party. It was enjoyable and silly and I ended up staying far longer than I'd anticipated. Dinner was really delicious and the King's Head mixes a nice Bourbon Sour. Okay, let me make Rick happy here and say a Jack Sour. Jack Daniels -would- be a bourbon, but they do this weird thing with charcoal filtering and that makes it a tennessee whiskey, so they say. I am mildly confused by this, though, since technically, bourbon is a whiskey distilled from a mash of corn, malt, and rye and aged in charred oak barrels. So, Jack Daniels technically is a bourbon that de-bourbonises itself. Anyway, the Sours were -good- and they actually mixed them using shot glasses. Imagine that.

On Saturday, I managed not to inadvertantly stand up a friend from deviantArt and we had a very nice day wandering around and stopping for coffee. The wind was brutally cold, though, even though it wasn't actually as cold out as it has been. I don't love the feeling of having my skin flayed off, but you know, whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Besides, in only a matter of days, I won't have to put up with it and I'll start complaining about the damp air and sucky slushy, wet snow. Heh.

Nine more days at the Museum. Can I finish the exhibit? I have no idea, but here's hoping. I have a busy, fun weekend ahead of me. Tonight is the Museum's Christmas party at the King's Head. It took them a while to determine if I were more staff than volunteer (it's staff only, otherwise I'd have to pay), but they came through and decided that I was staff. Sort of. Whatever, I've stopped paying for coffee, but I don't get bus fare, so I'm still that hazy grey area of confusion. I'm... oh, I know, I'm unpaid staff. So, there is the party tonight, followed by bed. Then, tomorrow, during the day I have a social engagement (with the same girl from a few weeks ago, which didn't quite work out) for coffee and wandering. Then home again to get back to work.

I really wish I could stay. I'm starting to feel so at home at the Museum. Especially in Geology/Paleontology. I find myself following around the curator helping him do neat things. Today we photographed the enrolled trilobite that we're including in the exhibit. She (yes, I've given her a gender and name - Nahi) is really cute. I mean, this is the kind of fossil you can really get attached to with her big eyes and puffy cheeks. I mean, we're talking -cute-.

Education threw me a little cake and tea party on Wednesday. The manager baked a yummy cake (banana with chocolate icing) and I was given a little gift of a beautiful Native-styled bone and bead cuff. The leather is soft, and even though it's brown and they suggested I look at the black one in the store, it goes very nicely colour-wise with the leather cuff I already wear. It is the perfect souvenir for me. I was touched. The reason the party happened so early, too, is because my direct supervisor left on vacation yesterday and she really wanted to be able to say goodbye and thank me. Like I said, I was touched. :)

I have recently been pointed to an article link that makes me tingle with excitement (not like that you dirty monkeys) and also balk with trepidation. The idea that a 'brain' grown in a dish can pilot a plane is... well, it is extraordinary and awesome and the stuff that science fiction is made of, only, apparently, now it isn't fiction. Read here. Nevermind robot vaccuum cleaners and nano-technology (cool as these things are), this is the shit. Seriously. This is on a level with fusion. Come on Future, come on !

And, from the near Future to the distant Past, the Giant Trilobite exhibit is coming together in its mocked-up form in my cubby. Peppy, the replica trilobite, and the almost matched trackway are laid out on a table that matches exactly the space requirements of the case. Different staffers have been dropping in over the last day in order to take a peek. Everyone is getting excited about it and there's a real sense of optimism, in that this exhibit marks the first redevelopment in the Earth Sciences gallery in many years. It keeps getting bigger, but today I had to say to the curator, "I'm sorry, that's just too much for me - I only have two more weeks here." Keep those feet on the ground (or in this case, specifically an ancient Ordovician seabed). I really wish I could be here to see the construction, or even stay on to help direct the other development that will sit alongside this display, but, I also realise that this simply isn't feasible. I'm hoping that I'll be able to see the exhibit's opening, at least. I want it to turn out well - I want this to be something I'm proud of - something tangible, something amazing. I wish I could stay here longer.

Winnipeg does not believe in Autumn. As much as possible, it raced through it from Summer straight to Winter, giving only three weeks in between. It is damn cold here. Over the last week, I have had to get used to temperatures in the negative teens (and worse), which is about a month and a half earlier than they come to Toronto. But the answer to your innevitable question is, I prefer frigid, dry temperatures to frosty, damp ones any day, particularly when accompanied by bright sunlight. It is cold, though, don't get me wrong. I could still enjoy dry cold at, say, -10, rather than -20C. It is not necessary that my nosehairs freeze when I step out the door. I thought I could make it to Christmas here without buying long underwear, and while technically, that's what I'm going to do, I have taken to wearing my yoga pants under whatever other pants I plan on people seeing me in. I tuck the yoga pants into my socks so that they don't peek out from under the hem of my jeans/pinstripes.

Currently, I am working my ass off to finish my two projects for the Manitoba Museum. The first (and the one being graded as my school project) is nearly complete. I submitted the first draft this morning before leaving the house after spending a grueling weekend writing it out. I still haven't quite managed to finish it, but most of the content is there, at least enough for my immediate supervisor to get a very good handle on what I'm saying. I hope that the Museum can (and will) make good use of the report, but I have the sneaking suspicion that it will end up on a shelf like so many other reports submitted at every similar location since the beginning of beauraucracy. However, when the time comes for them to revise their programming again, my report will be there should they decide to work from an existing review.

This week, I'm mostly spending my time in Paleontology, trying to put a lid on the text content for the Trilobite exhibit. This display just keeps getting bigger and bigger, but honestly, there is a reason why exhibits are developed by teams. Sometimes one person (plus the Curator) isn't enough. However, perhaps after a good night's sleep tonight, I will be more capable of finishing it up and can get onto the fun of drawing diagrams and physically mocking up the exhibit in my little cubby. I think it has dawned on the Curator now that the exhibit will not be finished in my time here, but hopefully, I will have laid the groundwork in such a way that it will be easy to wrap up over the winter.

I've given up on the idea of getting a job here. There are none to be had. While I like Winnipeg, I'm not interested in staying here if I cannot get the kind of work I want. I am sorry to be leaving, though. I have 19 days left and it's sad to go now that I have a social circle and fun people with which to hang out. I probably won't have made it out dancing by the time I leave, because I just don't feel comfortable going to dance clubs alone where I know no one, but I will have found some nice restaurants and seen some neat things, and certainly, I will be able to say that I had the guts to come out here where I knew no one and managed to make a go of it. For too long I considered myself unable to take a risk. Now I know this is not the case.

Finally, in other news, I would like to thank my friend G--- for buying me a print account at Deviantart. While the print approval process is kind of lengthy and a bit frustrating, on the whole, I think it can only work in my favour. I therefore invite you to visit my gallery and have a look a what is on offer please feel free to offer suggestions for photos and art you'd like to see made available. Also, I would like to thank the unknown so-and-so for extending my subscription to DA until the July ! Who ever you are, thank you !!

Being happy is a strange thing, almost irrational, and if one assumes that feeling neither happy nor depressed but generally okay is the norm, than about as common as feeling depressed. I am certain that the majority of my adult years has been spent in a state of depression or 'okay', which is why I'm maintained on a low dose of anti-depressant. I'm well adjusted and, even at my worst, not suicidal, and before the SSRIs came into my life, could almost pass for normal. So, having spent the last couple of years in a holding pattern of 'okay', having an almost constant level of pleased satisfaction (or dare I say, happiness) seems quite bizarre. Outwardly, this is particularly strange since I recently left my long-term boyfriend, am away far from my loved ones in a city I barely know, earning no money, and feeling somewhat isolated. And yet, I'm happy. I am -steadily- happy and have been for a month. I attribute this to doing meaningful work in a place where I am respected and treated as an equal, to having something of an adventure out here in the flatlands of Winnipeg, and maybe because despite being far away, I still feel utterly loved. Anyway, I have no way of knowing how long this period of happiness will continue, but I can hope that it carries on for a while yet, because if the depression counts for anything, then I'm owed. I thought I'd mention this so I don't look like I'm taking it for granted - I'm not !

In other news, I have had a very productive week working in Paleontology. To quote the Wiseman and his Hat in Labyrinth: "Quite often, young lady, it seems like we're not getting anywhere, when in fact-" "-We are." I'm certainly getting things accomplished, though, and I feel very good about the status of the exhibit work I'm doing. The project has ballooned into something I can be very proud of when it's completed, not quite what we thought of in initial discussions, but, compared to a month and a half ago, a good deal more than we thought we'd be able to carry out. In Education, too, great headway is being made. I'll have the entire week next week to work with that department so hopefully I will see the first draught of my programme analysis and evaluation complete by Wednesday. The deadline for that one is a great deal shorter because it needs to be completed before my supervisor goes on holiday (and of course for class, as well). I do wish I could stay at this museum. It's such a refreshing place to work.

Last night was my third yoga class. I've never really done yoga before, except for one or two classes when I was younger. The very talented diorama artist here, Betsey, teaches it for free after work on Thursdays and she is extraordinary. Patient and incredibly knowledgeable about the human body, yoga is a way of life for her and she treats it with great respect and solemnity. Steeped in an Eastern tradition, she does not commercialise it nor rush through it, instead teaching it in equal measures of body and mind, the way it is meant to be approached, as a form of balance. I think I would like to continue doing it when I return to Peterborough. I feel better in my own skin even after such a short time. In a similar vein, I am also losing weight. This is not because I'm not eating properly, in fact, I am probably eating more properly than I ever have. Even though I am not getting as much exercise as I have in the past, my diet consists almost entirely of simple, homecooked meals that are almost entirely made up of vegetables and cooked exclusively in olive oil. By the example demonstrated by Rosetta, I have learned that cooking from scratch does not have to be complicated or take a long time. I hope that I have the gumption to carry this on when I return home, as well.

In yet other news, I have taken some good photos over the last while here in Winnipeg, and I invite you to view them at my deviantart gallery. Yes, that is a plug. Have a lovely weekend.

Oh Winnipeg, how strange a city you are, full of fluctuating weather patterns and strange, spacious, wind-blown landscapes. Last week, while I unfortunately suffered from a child-borne disease (usually called 'the flu'), the weather was magnificent and on Remembrance Day, which is a holiday in Manitoba, Rosetta and I went siteseeing in St. Boniface and The Forks, if only to get out of the house and into the loveliness. Two hours was about all I could manage, though, having had a fever and whatnot.

But it was so worth it. I visited a Cathedral that had been ruined in a fire and rebuilt as a modern structure that incorporated the ruins to great effect, its cemetary boasting the grave of Louis Riel. Photos will be made available at my deviantart gallery in the near future, as in probably today or tomorrow. Also, we browsed through some of the boutiques in the Forks, which is kind of like Toronto's Distillery, in that it was a bunch of warehouses that someone decided would make a good tourist site and renovated, rather than simply allowing human habitation to naturally take over. I found some cool clothing, which I can't afford to buy, and there seem to be some neat cafes and restaurants at which I cannot afford to eat. But the people watching was nice and I had a good time.

The temperature began dropping over the weekend and yesterday came with a weather warning and watch for snow. And boy, has it snowed. Wow. It's not that I'm unaccustomed to large dumps of the white stuff, it's that I'm not accustomed to it at this point in the year. And, there is every chance that this snow will still be on the ground come Christmas. Apparently, once the ground gets covered, Winnipeg goes into deep freeze for five months. At the moment, Winnipeggers are relearning how to drive in poor road conditions and white-out and traffic is crawling. Cars that are low to the ground are acting as snowplows, if they're moving at all. The buses slide and bump against the curbs and get stuck in drifts that require 'rocking' to escape.

Highways all surrounding the city are closed. Schools have closed. People are out shovelling and those who have managed to get into work (though it took about an hour and a half for me to do so) are mostly preoccupied with the weather, rather than getting anything done. People here take an obscene amount of pride in their winters and are buzzing about with delerious and demented pleasure at how long it will take them to shovel tonight, or how much snow will end up covering the ground, and how this storm doesn't even begin to approach that one last year, or the year before, or whenever, when the snow came up to the roofs of cars. I'm just impressed that the whole department has made it in.

I, on the other hand, am considering bailing on work early today, if only to avoid the slush-hour commuter hell that will inevitably follow. I need to visit the walk-in clinic, anyway, because I need my prescription refilled and I also have to do a smidgen of food shopping. Yes, I realise this is kind of bad timing, but I'd rather do it today when it's not frigid out than tomorrow, when they're saying it'll be a whopping high of -10C.

Is it too soon to start feeling Christmassy?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

So now, back to my speech.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Some mornings, everything trivial is against you so that by the time you have it all sorted out, you're running half an hour behind, sweating, and irritated. Today, this is me. For instance, I over-slept. Not by a lot, but by enough to make me need to hurry. Then I missed the bus. The next bus came seven minutes later, officially making me late, but there was still a chance that I'd make it on time if the lights were in my favour and few people wanted on or off. The lights were not in my favour. None of the lights were in my favour and the bus driver, unlike in Toronto, was not about to run the yellow. So, by the time I arrived at work, I'm a full fifteen minutes behind schedule. I unlocked my office and the laptop was missing. Not in its case. Not put away in a drawer. A mad laptop search is just what I wanted. It wasn't in its cupboard, nor was it with the woman who had it last. Uh oh, not good. Where did I discover it? With another staff member. She wanted me to use the other laptop that is around here somewhere, and I looked at her and said, very sweetly, "But all my stuff is saved on that one."

So, half an hour behind, but I am now successfully in possession of the communal (far moreso than I'd thought) department laptop. And, before I dive into the photographs and presentation files of the Churchill dig site (this would be in regards to my trilobite project that I am working on for the paleontologist), I need to unwind a bit.

Winnipeg is an interesting city. It's large, but not ridiculously so, and is very much broken up into neighbourhoods - far more than Toronto, probably more in line with New York or Philadelphia. Each neighbourhood seems to have a clear boundary, be it a road, like the Pembina Highway, or one of the two winding rivers (some neighbourhoods fit neatly INto a meanderloop, even), and they are all, at least from my still limited observation, quite distinct from each other. It seems a little surprising to me considering how no natural topography breaks it up, no hills, declines, bluffs, or ravines, with the exception of the rivers. It seems the town planners, in the city's infancy, tossed logic to the wind when they designed the roads. Here is a perfectly flat piece of land, perfect for a grid system, and they messed it up ! Sure, there are grids. But they all meet each other at odd angles and main streets radiate from the downtown like a classic spiderweb. It can make getting around a bit confusing, if you're unfamiliar. Maybe that is why people are so friendly; they keep getting lost and realise they have to trust the kindness of others to be set straight.

Now, I shall pour myself a cup of coffee and set about digging through these files and maybe in this next week, something akin to inspiration will strike and suddenly, I'll have an idea of what to write for the museum's record-holding "giant" trilobite. I hope so, because I have already gleaned far more about trilobites than I'd ever wanted, and I might be nearing brain capacity for prehistoric arthropoidal knowledge.

I am really starting to like it here in Winnipeg. Or, maybe more to the point, I'm starting to love what I'm doing at the Manitoba Museum and that's helped lift my spirits. I'm slowly (well, is it really that slow when it's only been two weeks?) developing a bit of a social life among some of my colleagues, and I have been placed in touch with a number of people (some of whom I have not yet contacted). There is a very nice girl from Germany who is also doing an internship. Her name is Silke and we've hit it off famously. Sadly, she leaves next weekend, but I feel comfortable saying I will have found my social footing by then. In the meantime, Silke and I are having adventures. Last Sunday, she and I went to the Spirit Sands at Spruce Woods Provincial Park, which is a place of great beauty. Let me offer a tidbit from an email I sent a friend:

She and I hiked the entire park, which wasn't that long a trail, but so much of it was up and down great, deep sand dune hills of steepness you would not believe that it took us over five hours. It was a gorgeous day - the sun was out, the sky was nearly cloudless, there was a cool autumn breeze, but it was still warm. I regret wearing a long-sleeved shirt. ... Five hours and we met maybe 15 people in total. It was just amazing. I can understand how the First Nations peoples believe that wind blwing through was the voice of the Creator - it's amazing.

The country on the way toward the park, which is heading west toward Brandon from Winnipeg, is extremely flat. I thought the city was flat. Wow. Flaaaaaat. I saw my first grain elevator, which somehow wasn't as exciting as I thought it was going to be. People talk about the vast beauty of the prairie sky, too, but on a cloudless day, it's pretty flat, too. However, the park and the region around it was awesome and well worth an hour and a half of fairly bland scenery.

This weekend, Silke and I are going to Kenora. People keep telling us how beautiful it is. There's a boat cruise, which we will maybe take, and a bar (duh), and a giant fish statue called Husky the Musky. I'm sure we'll pose with the latter. We are going to rent a room in a cheap motel, too, and ... I don't know. Presumably we'll visit the bar. I don't know what else there is to do in Kenora. Silke's going to pick me up at 11am and then it's about two-and-a-half hours east in "shield country", which I have to say, I'm kind of missing. Heh.

As far as the Museum goes, I'm keeping well busy. This week has had me doing various things, including teaching (five different classes) in the Living on the Edge exhibit, researching trilobites and brainstorming trilobite display ideas, sitting in on meetings, and generally leaving me feeling very spun out. I have a private(ish) cubby office in Paleo, which is kind of nice, with a networked computer, but every chair on this floor is hard and makes my butt hurt. In Education, I'm sharing office space and use a communal computer (or Kinsey, the laptop Rick gave me), and people are always cutting through both. Space in this place is at a serious premium.

So now it's time to get back to my trilobites. I don't know when I'll have the time to update this journal again, but hopefully soon.

Well, haven't I been a poor author? Indeed. I'm now in Winnipeg and have been here for a week and a half. For a while, I had no Internet, but I have been writing about things, regardless. So, now, what I'll do, is post a couple of entries, or at least some excerpts, for your reading enjoyment. I am keeping a Winnipeg diary, though, and it's a seperate entity from this journal, and not meant for public perusal, at least, not yet.

For today, I shall go shopping, and exploring. But I am out of milk and need my coffee, so first things first. Must get dressed and catch the bus to Osborne Village where there is a Second Cup to serve my needs (and a walk-in clinic where I can get my prescription renewed, if it's open).

And now, some entries.

____________________________________


Pearson International Airport – Terminal 3.

Right now, I’m one of those people. Yes, sitting at the airport, waiting to board, working on a laptop. In the last eight minutes, the sky has gone from deep purple to pale greeny-blue and pink. It’s not exactly pretty, but it’s probably the best pre-dawn colour I’m going to get through the smoggy haze over the tarmac.

Everything has gone smoothly, except for the hostile security guards. Maybe they weren’t actually hostile, maybe it was cultural, or their apparent aggression was based in their lack of rudimentary English skills. I’m not sure, but they took my nail scissors. They told me (I think) that I could take them and check them, but seriously, my bags had already gone through ten minutes earlier. So, sorry Mom, I told them to chuck them, of collect them along with all the other illegal objects. Someone can do a good back-of-van trade in nail scissors and Swiss Army knives. Other than that, mind you, this morning has gone remarkably well. I sort of expected my cab driver to bail on me, or for something untoward to happen. I’m not sure what, exactly, but something that would make my travel plans run a little less evenly. 5:45am is the perfect time to be driving on the Gardner expressway, though, so we made excellent time. Still, things might not run as smoothly on the other side of things, since I have absolutely no idea what to expect in Winnipeg.

I had a really nice supper last night with Rick at the sushi place near his house. It was a good way to be sent off. We’re kind of at a strange crossroads, though. On Saturday, after my going-away party, we essentially broke up. It was nice, it was mutual, I cried, but I felt good about it and our level of maturity. Rick is now having second-thoughts, but I am not. As sad as it is, I don’t know that I see a future with him. Our lives are very divergent. I am about to head out willy-nilly into the Wild Blue Yonder of contract museum work. I’d like, perhaps, to go to the UK for a year, or so. Maybe to the States. I’m not looking to settle down by any stretch of the definition. I ended up telling him that if he wanted to wait, that’s up to him, but I’m going to be far away, and want the freedom to go out with people, maybe to see other people. Honestly, I prefer the idea of an amicable, respectful break-up that we can both support.

Anyway, it’s close to seven o’clock, now, and boarding is slated to begin in scant moments. There aren’t that many people waiting at the gate, but those that are here show a remarkable array of skin-colour and that gladdens me. I get the feeling that Winnipeg isn’t going to be anything like how I imagined it (except, maybe about the flat part).

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Winnipeg, the arrival

Winnipeg International Airport is pretty small, compared to Pearson. I don’t know how much international service it provides; I suspect most travellers have to connect from other airports in Halifax, Montreal, Toronto, or Vancouver. At any rate, it isn’t very big. The flight itself was totally uneventful, which is probably a good thing, and after clearing the smog barrier over Southern Ontario, we ended up travelling at such a high altitude that nothing of the ground or lakes below was particularly visible. I tracked the plane’s progress on the seat-mounted GPS screen (also doubles as a satellite television – we ARE living in the future) and we maxed out at 41,000+ feet above sea level. That’s pretty damn high.

I slept for an hour, as well, which wasn’t terribly comfortable, but a nap’s a nap. When I woke up, the smog and clouds were far behind and below the plane was the broken terrain of Northwestern Ontario. The land is literally pitted with small round lakes. It was kind of neat. This carried on into Manitoba, and then, suddenly, as the plane began its descent, the forests and lakes gave way to prairie. The farms were made up of large, vast square fields and I could tell by the furrows and fences that the ground was more or less flat. Maybe not Kansas flat, but possibly pancake flat.

And, Winnipeg is definitely flat. I rode in a limo from the airport, a stretched limo, even (for six bucks more than a taxi, who’s going to say no to all leather interior and one’s own personal tour guide), and I said, “My God, Winnipeg is so flat.” The driver, who’s name, which is even printed on his card, is Curly, laughed and said, “And we just drove down one of the city’s bigger hills.” So far as I have been able to tell in only a day and half, he’s really not kidding. We’d just driven down an embankment of some sort and it was less steep than the average on-ramp to a Toronto highway.

We arrived at the house and I brought my stuff in. As promised, Rosetta had left the key in the mailbox and a note for me. I set about poking around a bit, just to familiarise myself with the layout of the house. Whatever I’d expected, the house is not how I expected it to be, although my bedroom specifically is quite like how I imagined. My flat is more spacious than I’d guessed it to be and Rosetta had cleared a great deal of cupboard and shelf space for me. My two suitcases, heavy though they were, did not hold enough to fill all the space she’d made. I took a couple of hours to unpack, settle my stuff around my work area and bedside tables, set up the bathroom and then heated up some quiche that she’d left for me in the fridge. I called my mother when all was done, spoke to her for a bit, then left a message for Rick telling him I’d arrived safely, and then, because I was starting to feel very alone in the house, called some other people. Then I settled down for what I meant to be a two hour nap. It became four, meaning I didn’t go outside to explore, and woke up when Rosetta came home after work.

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Manitoba Museum First Impressions

Just about everyone I have been introduced to is nice and some are downright wonderful. My supervisors seem enjoyable and maybe even quirky. In a good way, especially the paleontologist, although I won’t know for sure until I start working with him at the end of next week. When I’m working in the Education/Programming office, I’ll be sharing a room with a funny, bright woman who has philosophies regarding the running of a museum very close to my own. We were half ready to run out and start our own museum consulting firm, but then I told her I should at least complete my internship in order to graduate. As with the ROM, the vast majority of staff are women, but unlike the ROM, there are as many, if not more, women in directorial positions as men, including the executive director, which is a very nice change.

In only two days at the museum, I’ve already made a number of observations regarding the similarities to the ROM, the differences, and comparisons to other institutions. First of all, the Manitoba Museum is without question, one of the most unique museums I have ever visited, anywhere. It makes a priority of connecting with the province’s communities, especially the diverse population of First Peoples living here. As well, there is the most amazing display of the Nonsuch, a replica of the Hudson Bay Company’s original sailing vessel. It sits in “dry dock” in a reproduction port in England, and visitors can tour the ship and the buildings surrounding it. This would be an enviable exhibition at any naval museum, but to have it here, in the middle of Central Canada, on the prairie, is such a charming surprise. I’m looking forward to working on the Nonsuch at some point in the future.

My first day was spent being toured about the museum by various people through the public areas and most of the behind-the-scenes areas, what at the ROM we called “Curatorial”. Many sections remind me of the ROM, especially in the production and display areas where bits of all sorts of things are lining the light grey-painted walls. Empty cases, stands, tables, and bits of indefinable detritus stand in corners and lean here and there. I met probably twenty or more people whose names I’ve mostly already forgotten. It was not a good day to be wearing high heals. I was provided with the Exhibits binder to familiarise myself with the different galleries and the sort of interpretation I will be doing in them, because, of course, I will be required to do a fair bit of work with the public. I was shown the local luncheon restaurant where everyone goes, and I couldn’t help thinking of Cheryl and all of our lunches at Ned’s across from the ROM. I suspect I’ll be making a lot of such comparisons for a while; can’t be helped, I guess. Also, I was given a copy of the newly produced (with that delicious printer-fresh smell) “Annual Report” to read, which I did. The Manitoba Museum managed to be in the black for twelve years straight, but apparently have run up a deficit this past year, an unenviable position to be in for any institution, but sadly all too common.

On my second day, I was thrown to the wolves, so to speak. I had an hour and a half to study a pair of school programs, which was interesting, although a bit dry. At ten o’clock, when the museum opens to the public, I was taken to the Discovery Room where I was given a fairly in depth tour and orientation by Jérome, one of the programs department staff, and then left to meet the public and demonstrate some various things. There was a seasoned volunteer with me, as well, but she wandered off for a while at one point. Good thing I am comfortable being a museum’s public face. After lunch, I was once again, chucked into an exhibit, this time the temporary installation “Discovering Chimpanzees”, which is about Jane Goodall, one of my personal heroes, and the chimpanzee families she’s studied at Gombe National Park in Tanzania. It is an incredible exhibit, especially since so much of it is audio-visual. I’m sure I’ll talk more about it in future entries. I was given very little orientation, so I spent most of the shift going through the exhibit, reading everything, watching everything, and trying out all the interactives. It is inspiring in its message of hope and concern. By the final hour of my shift, I was ready to start talking to the public and answering some basic questions.

I know, I should be writing about Juliane's wedding, and I will, I promise, but right now, I want to be writing about horses. The two are related, of course, in that Juliane is a 3-day eventer and we met at riding camp, eons ago, but I'm going to write a little more personally than that.

There have been horses in my life for a long time, and for a few years, because of school and extreme financial strain, I lived pretty much horseless. Rick has been with me for the entire period of horselessness and does not fully comprehend the depth of my love of those animals, nor the happiness I derive from being with them. I enjoy working with them, being near them, touching them, talking to them, even smelling them. I am comforted by them. I do not fear them. Horses move me. When I need to think, or when I need to escape, I can think of nothing so appropriate than going up the road, or down the path, alone, with a horse.

My friend, Kerri, has horses and it is at her farm where I ride here in Peterborough. I went out there this morning austensibly for a riding lesson, but found the house empty. Not wishing to waste the trip, I decided to ride anyway. There is a horse at her barn that I am in the process of falling in love with, named Peek, and despite the rain, some quality time just the two of us would be (and was) very nice. Peek is a talented horse. He's handsome and young, unfettered by previous training, unspoilt. He is a gentleman, polite and sensitive, but not lacking in personality. In fact, he has a stubborn streak and a sense of humour (yes, horses can) which can be both amusing and irritating. And I think he's awesome.

Two months ago, Peek had only just been jumped for the first time. Today, I took him around a short course of fences that posed little challenge for him. We also went for a ride up the road, which was good for me, because I'm feeling moody and needed to think. It was drizzling the whole time, but that kept the bugs down and the temperature cool. It was really nice.

I would like to continue working with this horse, to show him, to take him places I've never been. My passion, which has laid dormant for so long, has been rekindled this summer and it leaves me wondering what to do. I am about to venture out into a whole new world of adventure, leaving for Winnipeg in three weeks, and after that, who knows? I may end up as much in Peterborough as in New York, or London.

Today, I told Peek that I would have patience and would weigh all possible decisions with great care. I am not ready to settle, I don't know what I want, but now that I have 'the bug' again, I don't want to let it go, and I don't want to let go of Peek. No doubt, this is some great metaphor for life, but a clue would be nice. I wish I didn't always have to choose one thing over another - why can't I have it both ways, sometimes?

I'm not always very patient.

Okay, let me finish talking about the reunion for now, and we'll come back to the wedding afterward. If I leave it any longer, I won't write any more about it at all.

Anyway, Sunday was the games day and generally unstructured fun day. In previous years, this involved a big picnic at Kelso Conservation area, and I have to say, I do miss that location for the activities because there was just so much land on which to roam about. Well, we had to find room to have our water balloon pkill (player killing) competition and gladatorial combat (the road and hill beside the campsites). Before this could happen, the water bombs had to be filled.

This job was taken up most generously by Gareth and myself, with some intermittent help from Jen and Ken. Oh, a poem. Heh. I had no idea Ken was so good with a nozzle. ;) At any rate, Gareth and I were a stoic pair, bravely contending with poor taps and it took over an hour to fill them all, maybe even close to two hours. While this was going, Rick was playing poker. I ended up stripped down to my bra because of the brutal heat and Rick came out of the woodwork long enough to slather me with some sunblock. I had a rather nice, peaceful time talking with Gareth during this time and we hit it off rather well.

There was also a violent water fight between several of us, resulting in grass stains, bruises, clothing drying over cars and in bushes, and crushed and/or revenged egos. My knee is still bruised from when my fight got out of hand and Gareth still feels guilty for tripping me. As he should. The slave auction was also on the Sunday, and didn't raise that much money, unfortunately because there was a lack of drunken purchasing. I played cards, ate, drank and was merry. Did I mention I drank? Well, Sunday was my night for liberal imbibing and Monday was my day for being hung over. Which was okay, because it was fun and I had no responsibilities. Yay !

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And, also, from Meriam-Webster's August 7th Word of the Day:
gruntle \GRUN-tul\ verb

: to put in a good humor

Example sentence:
"He spoke with a certain what-is-it in his voice, and I could see that, if not actually disgruntled, he was far from being gruntled." (P.G. Wodehouse, The Code of the Woosters)

Did you know?
"Gruntle" is the result of a mistaken assumption about the verb "disgruntle," which means "to make ill-humored or discontented." The prefix "dis-" often means "to do the opposite of," so people naturally assumed that in order to have a "disgruntle" there must be a "gruntle" with exactly the opposite meaning. But actually, "dis-" doesn't always work that way — in some rare cases it functions instead as an intensifier. "Disgruntle" developed from this intensifying sense of "dis-" plus "gruntle," an old word meaning "to grumble." "Gruntle" began to mean "to make happy" only in the 1920s, when it was assumed to be the antonym of "disgruntle." By contrast, "disgruntle" has been around since 1682, and the original grumbling "gruntle" dates back to 1589.

So, here I am, on dial-up, again, in the middle of the night, with Juliane's (normally sophisticated) mother (currently sporting a 25-year old orange tube-top) running her speech past me. It's a rambly speech. I didn't like it, and I told her it had no flow. She agreed, but I'm not sure she'll be able to change it.

Okay, so now she's gone to bed and I'm the last one awake, as per last night. What am I doing tonight? Tonight, I am printing each programme one at a time, making sure they print correctly on both sides, and fighting with Primus. I can't tell if it is the service provider or the all-in-one printer that keeps dropping the connection, but which ever it is, it's really annoying. At any rate, I've been working on these programmes for most of the evening. First designing them, and by the time I'm done, three quality hours futzing with the printer. When I asked her two weeks ago if she needed help with programmes or anything because I do graphic design, she said, "Ya, maybe..." I didn't expect to be doing them at nearly 2am the night before the wedding. Heh. Silly me. I should have known better. :)

So, returning to the Reunion from last weekend...

Saturday, last week, was the traditional trip to the Renaissance Faire. Of course, the company that ran it pulled out, so it's now a pared down event, at a new location (the Royal Botanical Gardens), that was cobbled together in three weeks. COnsidering this, they did a really tremendous job. Sadly, Zoltan was not performing, so I'll have missed him this year, but that's okay. I enjoyed the joust, which although also pared down, was really entertaining. A neat thing was that we got to meet "Jake the Jousting Horse" afterward. Much more fun for the family. I played at archery, which was terribly amusing, especially when I set about distracting my friend, Gareth, with the threat (which I made good on) of pinching his bum. It was very fun. Rick bought a sword - Chinese militia - which made him happy, and I ... I bought food. I didn't even find a nice hip belt for Tracy's wedding. Oh well. :/ Maybe I will find one somewhere else. Maybe. Something will turn up.

Anyway, dinner was good, of course, with barbequed goodness, and the joy of my friend Kelly hanging around with her newish boyfriend, whom I had not met. I liked him a great deal. Much fun was had around the campfires, with everyone sort of mingling between sites, moving from one fire to another, taking the drinks and marshmallows with them. Jen and Gareth stayed up rather late (until dawn?) drinking, and two other friends, Adrian and Karen crashed in the tent with Rick and myself. Aside from some people talking too loudly, I can't really complain about anything much.

But now, I'll sign off again, because the programmes are almost done and I desperately need to go to bed. Don Quixote can wait until tomorrow (yes, I'm reading it, finally).

Well, since I'm wide awake and sitting at a computer, dial-up internet connexion or not, I figure I might as well start talking about the Reunion a bit.

I arrived at the campground around midnight, maybe a little earlier, maybe a little later, with the bride and two of her other bridesmaids in the car with me. They asked if I knew where the campsite was. I hadn't a clue, but I saw a group of men that looked like RoD types - geeky, half of them over weight, drinking profusely - so I said, "Stop and I'll ask these guys."

"Are you guys with RoD?" I called out from the car and they turned to look, one of them saying, "OF COURSE !" So out I hopped, hugging the other girls and giving Juli a kiss before bounding off to look for Rick et al. I didn't have to look far, because even in the dark, Rick's drunken tones carried easily. I found him a couple campsites in and he ... well, it was something like a cross between a hug and clambering all over me. I think it was meant with love.

I made my rounds and introduced myself to people I hadn't ever met before, and hugged and kissed those I knew. I love going to the reunions because of the variety of people and the freedom to be yourself. This is a very forgiving social group. Here we are, a bunch of people drawn together in a fantasy game for various reasons, from all around the world, with no particular care as to how anyone appears in reality. At the reunions, fat people, skinny people, shy people, boisterous people can all come together without the fear of being ridiculed or ostracised. It's truly amazing.

At any rate, the event had begun. I was in my happy place.

More to come. I have to muck stalls in the morning with Juli before we can go for our manicures. GOod thing I brought jeans and boots. *laugh* You'd think I'd been here before. *laugh* Good happy memories.

Wedding #2 adventure to begin shortly. I'm going to have some serious catching up to do when I get back. I haven't even talked about the excellent, if poorly organised, RoD reunion, yet. *sigh*

So, I suggest you all go away and come back in a week's time and maybe I'll have put something more in here. Now, I'm off to pick up my gown which my friend altered for me and then to head out to the bride's family farm. And so it begins. Again.

Let me tell you a little about my friend Juliane's lingerie party. It was held on Friday night and though I had thought I would not be able to attend, I was wrong. It turned out that it was very close to where we were camping for the RoD Reunion. So, I got dumped there and dropped at the campground later. The party was a wonderful success, and it was just us gals, we the bridesmaids and the bride. Juli got a wide array of presents, including lovely feminine lingerie and silly naughty stuff, and I upped the culture quotient by giving her a book of naughty photographs dating from 1845 to 1945. Excellent.

The hostess, the maid of honour, prepared a marvellous spread of finger sandwiches, veggies, silly desserts, and fruits. There were drinks and decorations and very silly balloons with happy faces in the shapes of penises. Yep, it was that kind of a do. Anyway, the maid of honour happens to live in a the most stately of historic farm manors in the Guelph area. It was built in 1848 and had an addition added ten years later. It's solid stone and very elegant with a sweeping stairwell that rises over the entry way on three levels ending in a gallery. The house is in somewhat rough repair, however; due to years of piecemeal neglect, with holes in the cedar shake roof, very poor plumbing, etc. But it's floors are original, and its mouldings are incredible, and generally, it's a phenomenal house. She is living there with her fiance for a pittance, mostly to keep it occupied while it's for sale. It used to be a B&B before the owner died.

And now, this is where the story gets good. You see, the former B&B is also unfortunately the site of a rather grisly murder. No, really. This is how the story goes:

Guests were staying at the Elm Park B&B one weekend late in October. After going to bed, they heard the hostess arguing with her son who lived in an upstairs flat in what had been the servant quarters of the enormous house. They didn't think much of it at the time, and although it was heated, did not feel it was there place to intervene. In the morning, the couple came down for breakfast and found the son preparing their meal. He greeted them and made smalltalk, but they thought it was a bit weird to have him making the breakfast, rather than her. She didn't seem to be around, but her keys and purse were still there. They went out, but felt an overwhelming sense of suspicion, so they called the house and asked for the hostess. Her son answered and informed them that she'd gone away for the weekend. Having seen her purse and keys, they knew this was not so and therefore called the police.

Don't believe me? Read about it here. The maid of honour took us all on the grand tour of the house, including the room where the deed aparantly took place. The son likely came down the narrow servant stairs from his flat and chased his mother into her bedroom where she probably tried to barricade the door. Unable to lock it in time, he killed her, then burnt her body in the firepit behind the house.

The creepiest thing about the house is that nothing has really changed in it, other than key pieces of furniture having been moved out. It's pretty much as it had been. The son's music festival posters are still on the walls of his room, family photographs are still on the walls, all the B&B related ephemora is still decorating the antique furniture. And Juliane's maid of honour is living in a real-life psycho-thriller film scenario.

I should probably write a bit about Tanya's wedding, since it occured during my two weeks offline and was something of a significant event, not the least for Tanya and Chris. Anyway, it was a fun time out in Sarnia/Petrolia with Tanya putting us bridesmaids to work. Particular highlights included the rehersal dinner hosted by the groom's mother and friend - chicken cordon bleu for 35 or so is a lot of chicken ! It was a very nice, informal way to meet the different sides of the family and to bond. I especially enjoyed bonding with the junior bridesmaid, Alex, who absolutely reminds me of me when I was her age (nine).

Of course, the wedding reception was pretty terrific, too. The musicians (at the ceremony as well) were excellent, which isn't a surprise considering Chris' musical life, in particular, the swing band who played through the evening. Hearing Chris play the trumpet with them during their second set was really neat, as I've never actually had the chance to see him perform. He's good. It was hard to dance, though, because someone's bright idea was to put the bridesmaids in skirts with sweep trains, which we (or others) were perpetually stepping on.

The hairdressers were wonderful, but every bit of the small-town stereotype: tight pants/leggings, heavily dyed hair, thirty-something women with practically grown-up children. They were really nice, though, and they did a great job. I had my hair pulled back in a sweep with a side part, with the hair falling loosely in curls down the back. It looked really pretty and fresh. Also, the photographers were really good ! Aside from the gazillion locations at which we were photographed, the sand in my stockings from the beach shoot (which allowed for the 20 year old limo driver to get a special treat when I had to roll them down to empty them), the pictures looked really great. Falling out of the limo on the beach kind of sucked, though. Again, stupid sweep train.

I made some new friends, too. Tanya's old friends Craig and Michelle, who were kind enough to drive me there and back, were generous and fun and I totally love Chris' parents and neice. Also, I bonded with the other two bridesmaids despite some very different roots and lifestyles.

There will be further entries concerning other things as I get the time to write them.

That said, I will add RIGHT NOW that I am working my LAST DAY at the ROM. And, I am currently sporting a livid magenta feather boa. Once, a long time ago, I promised a co-worker who then worked with me in Membership, that on my last day, I would wear a hot pink boa. I couldn't find one in hot pink, but this is close enough and it clashes marvellously with my orange shirt. I rock.

There's a lot to cover since my last post, unfortunately, I have been without Internet for two weeks now. It is tedious and irritating. It's one thing to go away to my cottage, or some other place, and leave my computer and internet access behind. It is a completely different kettle of fish to have my ability to surf from home ripped out from under me like a badly performed Vaudeville tablecloth trick. Trying to discuss wedding plans with various brides who live in places far from me, to co-ordinate activities has become irritating. When you come to rely on email and online journals, trying to relearn the telephone is challenging. No, seriously.

Anyway, no idea when things will be working again, but hopefully soon. Maybe I'll have the chance to post something from work tomorrow. Right now, my head hurts and I'm hot and sweaty and the laptop is cooking my thigh.

Today is Canada's birthday ! 138 years old, today ! In celebration, I am working at the ROM with the flag stuck in my hair. I am adorable. So far, people have either tried to ignore it because, I suppose, they're embarrassed by such demonstrations of patriotism, or have loved it. I'm waiting for some Americans to make a condescending joke, for which I will look at them as if they were speaking in tongues. Maybe they will behave themselves. At any rate, I'd wanted to wear my "Canadian Girls Kick Ass" teeshirt, but it's simply not appropriate for the Info desk. ;)

Also, I am wearing an orange shirt, and no one has said anything, which strikes me as odd, considering considering I've never worn orange before.

Eight days from now, Tanya will be getting married. I will be picking up my dress on Tuesday, and the bride's crinolines before I leave. I'm afraid I'm going to have to take the Greyhound, which is inconvenient, but I can't afford to rent a car at the moment, and I'll be able (I think) to hitch a ride back with A&C on the Sunday. As for the other wedding, next month, the dress is in and I need to pick it up. I'll shoot for sometime soon, and then I'll take it to a friend for alterations. And I'm currently working on Tracy's invitations for her wedding in the fall, as well as trying to figure out where my dress went.

As for the invitation design, it's finally coming together and I'm very happy about it. I just need to speak to her to run the concept past her in order to make sure she's alright with it. I'd really hate to spend hours on it only to discover it was really not what she wants. My plan is to finish the draft this week. Also, I need to talk to the mother of the bride about, you know, bridey things.

Aside from working and riding the bus to London, ON, and whatnot, my week is getting crammed with Things that Take Time(tm).

• Passport office


• Dress fitting


• Riding lesson/practice x2


• Pay tuition


• Get International Student Card


• Tracy's invitations

Okay. On Monday I'm also planning going to Casa Loma for their four day mini-Renaissance festival. I know a couple of people who will be there, so that will be extra fun. I'm trying to convince a mopey co-worker to come with me to that. She needs to get out and do something other than pine for her lost (and very lame) love.