I don't follow hockey. I'm a terrible Canadian, I know, but I can't be bothered. But at the moment all the men I work with are in a hockey pool, so a lot of the talk around is about hockey. Because they know I'm ignorant, every so often they will pretend to pull me in on their side -- "Right Kate?" and I'll agree to whatever. However, unlike some I have worked with, they see no need to educate me. For which I am grateful.

Sears sent me an email yesterday, saying that the shirt I ordered was ready to be picked up. In downtown Toronto. I wrote back saying "The blue shirt I ordered was delivered already. To my house. In Nunavut."

Drove the snowmobile tonight, for the first time. I think I like driving better than passengering. This weekend I might take Rachel out to West Arm, where there are hills, and go sledding with her. She's been bugging me to go.

I'm at a loose end tonight. It wasn't very busy at work today, just cleaning up files after court, and I feel as if I have energy that could be put to use but I can't think of anything to do. I'm hampered by the knowledge that if I start something tonight, tomorrow is Cubs night and I'll be out, and Wednesday night I'll probably be tired again. So what am I doing? Reading weblogs and my email, and listening to the kids bicker about what to watch on tv.

They've settled on music videos. Gwen Stefani singing "It's My Life". Commenting on whether or not one should wear lipstick when being executed in the electric chair. Consensus is -- not. It's interesting to live with folk who have only been alive and cognizant of their surroundings for the past decade or so. Most recently I have found myself explaining Watergate, ABBA, Liza Minnelli, West Side Story, Tang, Fiddler on the Roof, and hysterectomies. I worry that they will have a whole lot to unlearn when they realize that I am not an expert on US presidential scandals, Scandinavian supergroups, Broadway, powdered drinks, or surgical procedures. But I've found to my chagrin that they only listen to short explanations, and will not sit through anything I research to present to them. A longish explanation is likely to be cut off by non sequiturs. "Is she holding a pig? Yeah, whatever, mom."

Sampling is also problematic. Playing Stevie's Edge of Seventeen the other day while I was doing housework prompted some comments about "I hate that song. Isn't it supposed to be a Destiny's Child song?" No, it is not. It's Stevie Nicks. "Is that a man? Girls aren't called Stevie." Yeah, whatever.

I had to go and look up what ABBA song Madonna was sampling in Hung Up. As in, I knew I knew it and that it was ABBA but the title was buried somewhere in my subconscious.

I called my parents tonight, and mentioned that we were buying a truck. Dad said, "What kind of truck?" I replied, "Uh, it's black." He called me an unflattering name. So, to put the record straight, it's a Dodge Dakota. And yeah, that's as much as I know. Theoretically it has an engine. It seems to drive around, at least. That would indicate engine-possessing. I don't know what kind. It seats about five if you don't mind squishing. We have no seatbelt laws here, so we can squish. There also don't seem to be any laws against hauling people in the back of pickup trucks, so we can probably 'seat' about seventeen if we need to...

Broke down today and hung curtains in the living room. The sun is nice. But it's ALWAYS and ETERNALLY shining in my eyes while I'm trying to watch tv.

I also made a slightly deformed piece of pink paper. And hung Miguel's paintings that he has done since we've been here. And pried all the used candles out of the holders and replaced them with new ones. (A bit of a pointless exercise as it NEVER BLOODY WELL GETS DARK) but oh well. They look better.

I'm told that the summer is the time when family violence is most prevalent here. I'm beginning to think I can see why.