Dinner with the neighbours was good. Food was eaten, they brought wine, we talked about art and life. The kids played upstairs.

I'm very much enjoying my time off. I needed a long weekend. Don't even really want to go anywhere, just decompress. Rachel and the neighbours have gone off tobogganing, Ian is still in Yellowknife, Kirsten amuses herself well, with the occasional need for snacks and to impart random pieces of information about her complicated online roleplaying game. So I have been able to please myself today. Had leftover dessert from last night for lunch. In a while we'll make pizza for supper. It's all good.

This week at work was interesting. The corporal has gone off to Arviat, one of the constables is on holiday in Nova Scotia and another one went on a prisoner escort, so that left the sergeant, me, and a constable we borrowed from Toronto for a month. So, suddenly, I'm the one with the most recent knowledge of who's on probation, who's been picked up for what in the last little while, and what stage court cases are in. I guess I almost didn't realize how much I've learned until I had to start explaining things to someone new - ever since I've been there it's been me getting things explained. Me asking a million questions. And the sergeant is leaving soon, his rotation's almost over, and the new sergeant called wanting to know about the community and living up here.

I am off work today. I forgot that I would be off today, yesterday, and so I didn't do something yesterday that I normally do on Fridays. (with me? yeah, it was hard to explain to my boss, too.)

I called my boss to tell him, I usually schedule guards for the weekend on Friday afternoon, because they have to start work at 6pm, but that I hadn't done it yesterday. He seemed confused, said to me, "So there's no-one there now?" Turned out that he thought, since he was at home, that it was Saturday and the 'spend-the-weekends-in-jail' folks were over in the lockup without any guards. (not that that would have happend, the guards don't leave without a replacement, but still) Once we got all that straightened out, I felt better. But I really hate having to admit I've forgotten something. I want them to think I'm infallible. And I hate that feeling when I remember something I forgot. Like an elevator in your stomach suddenly plunging to the bottom of the shaft. Oof. I forgot.

Then, for some reason, I invited the neighbours for dinner. Now I hafta cook. But my son and my honorary son have gone to Yellowknife to shoot guns with the other army cadets, so the house is devoid of teenage boys. Maybe there'll be food left for the rest of us. (why did I invite the neighbours????)

Fun thing today, though, being guest contributor on Ed's blog.

Reading one of the magazines I got suckered into because I wanted Macleans and it came as a package, I came across an ad for this event. I've been pushing it around in my mind ever since, because I was very curious about what a "life strategist" could do for someone. I went to Ms. Rubin's homepage and took a quiz. It seems I am not ambitious enough.

Strategy? For life? I think if I had to declare one, it would be like cooking spaghetti. Periodically I throw things at the wall to see if they stick, and go from there. Hence my current situation. If I had ambition, I think it might mean that I had to narrow my focus and could not be free to chase interesting opportunities. So, maybe a little bit of dog-in-field-full-of-rabbits strategy. Ooh, there's one, let's chase that for a while. Bigger one over there? I'm off with my tongue hanging out. There are too many interesting rabbits and pots of spaghetti to cook, I hate to limit myself to pursuing or boiling just one. Metaphors thoroughly mixed. My work here is done.