Well. Christmas was quiet here, except for the dull roar of the Xbox360 that Ian and I purchased on our little trip... Now I'm just enjoying the relative quiet of work in a week where most folks are off. I got Christmas Day and Boxing Day off (something that never happened in my years of retail) and I will get New Year's Day off next week. So two nicely broken up weeks, and no school and no Beavers and no School Board and no hockey and lots of chocolate.

Patti lent me Diana Gabaldon's Outlander, because she was surprised I'd never read it. Karen gave me Barbara Kingsolver, The Poisonwood Bible, for Christmas, for the same reason. Both good, in very different ways. But not Karen and Patti can't agree on who gets to read Barbara next. Although since Karen just went off on a cruise to the Caribbean, I'm thinking it'll be Pat.

Can't sleep tonight. My right foot and hand are acting up again. Stupid. Gonna go back to bed and try to wrap them in blankets until they stop hurting. If I'm tired enough this sometimes works.

I don't know if I've ever mentioned here that I hate Seinfeld. I don't have anything else to say about this, just sometimes I like to see it in print. And please know that if you like Seinfeld, you are entitled to your opinion. I won't even hold it against you. I think it must be a lack in me, somehow, rather than in Seinfeld fans. There's a gene I'm missing, maybe. Maybe it's the same one that lets people tell right from left, or makes them think it's a good idea to use the word "supposibly".

I have a tin of Quality Street. Residents of this house keep taking the lid off it and then dropping all the chocolates on the floor.

and I miss Jazz at this time of year. No-one's eating tinsel and throwing up on the rug, or stealing candy canes and crunching them behind the couch. I suppose the kids would do this if I asked, but it would hardly be the same.

Yup, this is noon. that's as much sun as we see right now. it doesn't really rise, but it's there. next week it won't be. there, I mean....

Ok. Because I read Delia's, this is my "Fifty things I love" list. They are in no particular order.

1. Coffee with real cream and lots of sugar.
2. Yams. Especially if they're in sushi.
3. The X-Files.
4. Nevil Shute. Or any other author with his laconic way.
5. Frogs.
6. Brie.
7. Waking up in the middle of the night with a revelation of some sort.
8. Dancing.
9. The Tragically Hip. In concert with me there dancing.
10. Lucy (my new niece).
11. Frozen blueberries with my cereal.
12. Noon in December in the Arctic. (picture to follow)
13. Driving the snowmobile too fast and listening to Justin Timberlake. Yes, they do go together.
14. The feeling of tiredness after a day of excellent skiing.
15. Scrabble.
16. Really short hair on men.
17. My job.
18. Long walks in the dark with someone to talk to.
19. London when it's raining and warm.
20. Ayya Khema.
21. Ecclesiastes. (1.9The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be; and that which is done is that which shall be done: and there is no new thing under the sun.)
22. Candles that don't smell like flowers.
23. Sandalwood.
24. Puppies that will sit on your lap.
25. Blackcurrant tea.
26. Singing. (not that I can, really, just that I enjoy it)
27. Hugs. Especially unexpected ones.
28. Paradise Valley behind Mount Temple.
29. Books that make me want to read them slower.
30. Old cemeteries.
31. Zombie movies.
32. REM and the Indigo Girls. This is cheating, it's two.
33. Knowing the answers.
34. Cooking for people.
35. Croissants. Especially in Paris. Heck, any food in Paris.
36. Going on trains.
37. Snorkeling in warm, warm water. (are there two l's? Snorkelling? Snork.)
38. Baths.
39. Laughing until I cry.
40. Leonard Cohen.
41. The feeling just after tequila hits your stomach at the start. (later is sometimes not so good.
42. Holding hands.
43. Smoking. (but no, I'm not.)
44. Talking all night.
45. Peonies.
45. (it's a tie) African Violets. Because they're fuzzy.
46. My blue sweater.
47. My grannie's cross. (and I'll probably not lose it, cos I had it tattooed on my ankle.)
48. Thai food.
49. Ian Rankin.
50. T.S. Eliot. For I have known them all already, known them all:—

Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,

I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;

I know the voices dying with a dying fall

Beneath the music from a farther room.

So how should I presume?




And if you have read this, consider yourself tagged... you're it. let's see your list :)

Miguel, before he left for Kugaaruk this week, told me that he'd made some chicken broth icecubes. I imagined that said icecubes would be handily stored in plastic bags in the freezer. I was a bit in awe of his domesticity (although the day I came home from work late at night and the upstairs of the house was a chicken-smelling sauna wasn't so pleasant).

Ian poured himself a pop at dinner time, then turned to me and said, "I don't know about these icecubes". I said to him, "what's wrong with them?" He replied, "they look as if someone wasn't paying attention when they made them." I said, "Your dad made chicken broth cubes, I suppose those could be them. Did you pour pop on them?" He said, "Oh, ick."

I'm feeling a bit better than when I wrote my last entry. But I'm tired. The Beaver/Cub Christmas party was tonight and I had the craft table. We made angels with doily wings. Last year I tried God's Eyes with them (you know - you do the cross with popsicle sticks and then wrap different coloured wool around) but most of the kids just made blobs on sticks. At least with the angels it's kind of obvious - that's an arm, that's a head. There's a very small boy who reminds me a lot of Ian when he was little. He's really too young for Beavers but his big sister goes. He's three and a half, and he has that sort of translucent skin and big sticky out ears. He's gotten braver, since September, and today he was working on his angel and talking away to me, it was very sweet. At first when his mum dropped him off at Beavers and went to her yoga class, he would just sit on the window ledge with tears welling up in his eyes and watch us mournfully. He made a great angel, then glued one googly eye in the middle of its forehead and fell about laughing.

I'm going to bed. I had both trouble sleeping last night and trouble getting out of bed this morning. I was still awake I think at three. Then the alarm went off at 6:45 and I told it to fuck off and went back to sleep. Unfortunately, and this is the problem whenever Miguel goes away - he's actually away quite a bit as he's in charge of five or six communities in the region and all are fly-in communities - he's the one who gets up in the morning. He gets up, makes coffee, turns on the pellet stove, plugs in the car, putters around upstairs for a while and then brings me coffee at 7:30 so that I consider getting up. This morning I was still lying in bed at 8:10 and I'm supposed to be at work at 8:30. I walked in breathless at 8:35, hoping there was no-one there, but unfortunately we had folk in cells and the day guard hadn't come so they were all waiting for me...

I don't know. I've been keeping an online diary for almost ten years now, I started some time back in 1999 with Diaryland, but increasingly lately I can't really think of much to say. The feelings of wanting to project myself out there are not strong any more. I really needed a place to put my feelings when nobody would listen to them, but now I have quite good friends and I'm not spending my evenings surfing the net and emailing people. I barely respond to emails. I rarely send emails. I don't phone people, either. But then I never really was very good at that.

Also, on something of a unrelated note, I've decided that I don't want to feel guilty about things any more. I've done things wrong in my life, yes. I will probably continue to do things wrong. If I continue to feel guilty, though, I lay myself open to the possibility of being manipulated. Some in my life now and before, do not feel guilty. Why should I? I owe nothing. I have better things to do.

yesterday when I was cleaning my bedroom, and I was rearranging things on top of the dresser, I realized I could hear a voice. I poked my head around the corner into Miguel's painting room and found that the radio was on, playing Mozart. No voice there. I went and opened all the drawers in the dresser, to see if someone had secreted something in the drawers, a walkie talkie or whatever. The voice went on. It sounded serious. I couldn't quite catch what it was talking about, but it was a male voice.

I moved back into the bedroom and sat on the bed. It occurred to me that perhaps this was it - I was losing my mind. I wondered if I should try to concentrate on what the voice was saying, or should I maybe ignore it. I put my hand in my pocket to get a Halls and found my IPod. It was on. I must have jostled it and turned it on, and it was playing an interview with a Holocaust scholar that I had been listening to earlier...

So, not insane quite yet. Phew.

We have cold. It's minus 40 and foggy today. brrr.

It's my birthday. I'm plus 40 today.

I have mixed feelings about the whole thing. I thoroughly enjoyed the party my friends had for me last night: they invited everyone I work with and all their significant others, plus other friends and I think it's the first time I've had a birthday party in a lot of years. More than 20, I'm sure. It was funny, Bryan Adams was on the stereo for a while, and one of the guests said she had taken her two boys to one of his concerts when they were living in Ontario. I said, he was the first concert I went to, in I think 1983. A young girl sitting opposite me said, "Boy, he must be old - I wasn't even alive in 1983". Sigh.

Miguel made me a cake - cheesecake, mmmm. The kids brought me breakfast in bed this morning, but I unwisely turned my back on half my bagel and Joeby ate it.

I went to church this morning, and I think that if the minister who is visiting at the moment decides to come and be the regular minister I will have to go back to my solitary practices because he is exceeeeeeedingly sexist and generally belligerent, and I don't think I can bear any more. He's leaving next weekend, so I won't have to go to any more of his services in the next little while, but he's muttering darkly about coming back. I don't really want to go into it, because it's all too silly, but he's managed to offend just about all the members of our little assorted "Anglican" congregation (it's the north, this is only one of three churches in town - Catholic and Glad Tidings are the other two, so we have all the non-Catholics and non-Holy Rollers by default - we have a couple of Mennonites, some United Church folk, one lady who is I think a Baptist, and three of four actual Anglicans including me).

This afternoon I am doing nothing. I think Miguel's parents are coming for dinner, but at the moment Ian and Rachel are at Cadets, Kirsten's cleaning her room and Miguel's downstairs painting, and I am sitting listening to the wind.

I know I've talked about this before. We played Trivial Pursuit tonight, the kids and I. Miguel is sick (he has a man-cold, which as we all know are much more debilitating than girly-colds) and was in bed.

Anyway. Did you know that the person who spent the longest time in jail after Watergate was Nelson Mandela? Or that the tennis player called SuperBrat was Marilyn Monroe? This last was my fault, because Ian was losing so I was mouthing "John MacEnroe" at him but he didn't quite get it. I liked some of the clues Kirsten gave him - the question was "Who made a boat out of gopher-wood?" and when he drew a blank she said to him, "He wasn't married to Joan of Arc..." and Ian got it.

And. As I said before, sometimes the explaining just gets too tedious. What was Watergate? I just said, "It's a long story."

Lucy is home safe with her mom and dad. Things are good.

It's Halloween. I had lots of candy, but the third group of trick-or-treaters let themselves into the porch and stole most of it. I walked in just in time to see them putting the bowl back on the freezer mostly empty. However, we haven't had many kids knocking on the door, and I don't really need to eat it myself, so - oh well.

my baby niece's name is now officially - Lucia Skylar, Lucy for short. And she's doing better, they're going to move her out of the NICU soon, she's sucking her thumb and cuddling with her mom. Thanks to those who prayed...

So on Friday, my brother and his wife had their first baby. Which makes me an aunt, for the first time. The baby is a little girl, and first reports on Friday, when my brother phoned me at work, were that everyone was happy and healthy. All according to plan.

What wasn't expected, yesterday morning, was the call from my mother, saying that the as-yet-unnamed baby girl had had a seizure and been taken to the intensive care unit. Later calls revealed that she had suffered two strokes, and her left arm had a residual twitch. My mum was a wreck, and I called her a couple of times yesterday to make sure she was ok.

This morning Mum called again, to say that she had spoken to my sister-in-law's mother (baby's other gramma) and that she had been told that they don't expect Sweetpea (that's what they're calling her at the hospital, given that her parents haven't been able to agree on a name) to have any more strokes, and that they're not sure whether the aftereffects will be lasting or not.

So, if you have a little bit of room in your prayers, there's a tiny Sweetpea in Calgary that needs all the prayers she can get...

The bay is freezing up...

Miguel built me a shelf for my singing bowl and candles. The cross in the picture underneath is at Eyam, a plague village near where I was born, in England. The stained glass window is in the Anglican church in downtown Melbourne.

A few years ago, Miguel and I made this coffee table. Now it's sitting in front of our new stove, in the ground floor of the house. The coffee cup is mine, I have not moved it. I am, in fact, still a terrible housekeeper.

All our stuff is here!

It was on the barge I could see from my window last weekend, and we went down to fetch everything out of the large wooden box it came in, on Tuesday. In the middle of a howling blizzard. Miguel wasn't tremendously impressed that we felt we couldn't wait until the wind dropped a bit and we wouldn't be stung with driving snow, but it felt like we'd waited long enough.

After everything was unpacked, we had three casualties. One mug of mine, that I quite liked, a jug I didn't feel very precious about, and Kirsten's favourite ornament. The box containing my good china was all lopsided and battered looking, but when I opened it up, the dishes had just moved over to one side of the box, and were unharmed. My friend who has been here about 8 years says it's making her want to get her stuff out of storage in Saskatchewan.

Now, all my pictures are up, my desk is sitting in the living room, and the books are happily in the bookcase. I had people over last night, and I was able to put chips out in the wooden bowl I got for an engagement present, and salami on my glass tray with cherries. It's funny, but the things I missed were little - my tiny green tea cups, my singing bowl, my Spanish shawl, my great-grandmother's bible. I got up in the middle of the night last night, and had juice in one of my little tea cups. Just because I could.

One of the reasons I cherish my IPod is that I can download podcasts of CBC and BBC radio, to listen to while I'm cleaning, at work. Today I was listening to Anne Lamott being interviewed on CBC, and she said something that I ran to write down (in my dispatch book, because it was on my desk, hopefully nobody will need that page for a file)
"The opposite of faith is not doubt, it is certainty."
So I've been thinking about that, today.

I've finally ordered a Book of Hours, to use all by myself. I've got a bunch of printed out stuff stuck in a book, but I've been craving a real book. Eventually I want to make my own, but I think that is a project that will have to wait... I've been practicing calligraphy but it's still very slow. And I find that my mind wanders and I lose my place. More concentration is needed. The story of my life.

The cadets have gone 'camping'. I say that because the cadet rescue phone tree has been activated, I got a call about an hour ago saying that the weather has turned, the wind's getting up, and they want us to go fetch them back.

Also, out my window, I can see a barge at the dock!!!! I'm really hoping all my lovely books are on it, and that they didn't get all wet and freeze on their long Arctic Ocean voyage. I'll let you know how that turns out.

My dad had cardioversion this week, they put him under again and shocked his heart, and it went back to normal rhythm and stopped being in atrial fibrillation, which it has been since his operation.

Well. Here we are again.

I want to buy a monastery.

Neat, huh?

Miguel has been building bookcases, (as seen here - and another similar one on the facing wall) ready for when our books arrive. We've been told there's another barge coming on Wednesday, so maybe our stuff will be on that one. I've also been begging bits of plants from people, and I'm growing some pineapple tops. They look very tropical. The piano stool that the dieffenbachia is standing on came from the metal dump. I love the metal dump. Too bad I didn't find a piano to go with it.

It's not so tropical outside... It has been snowing steadily, the last two weeks, and the land is now all covered. It's been about -3 mostly, which means that when the sun shines it melts the top layer of the snow and then refreezes it, so it's slow going around town. I fell on the ice yesterday, bringing Rachel back from the dentist. Miguel has been slithering a bit in the new truck, trying to get used to it. I sold the old truck while he was in Edmonton, just recently.

It is Ember Days, and I've been fasting. I love fasting. This time I've been doing it the Anglican way - with bread, fruit, and tea. In other words, banana for breakfast, slice of bread and slice of mango for lunch and supper, and lots of tea. It's called dry fasting, but it doesn't mean you don't drink anything, - you just don't eat anything hot or or particularly interesting. Although the multigrain bread is beginning to taste like the best thing I've ever shoved in my mouth. I feel nice and light, and my thought processes have slowed. Also I have lots of energy. I accomplished a lot this weekend, even though I spent most of Saturday morning in a semi-conscious state on the couch in the living room. I wasn't hungry, and yet I couldn't fall into a full sleep, and my thoughts were long and deep. I thought a lot about my parents, and I thought a lot about the readings I was going to do today in church. It's supposed to be conducive to prayer, and for some reason I feel as if that might be true, because my concentration is good and I feel happier when my stomach's not always trying to digest something difficult.

Truly I still don't think I'm a religious person. I enjoy, when it's my turn, standing up in front of the congregation and giving my stream-of-consciousness talks, just like I used to do with the Alternatives to Violence Project - I love looking for thought-provoking things to read out loud in front of everyone. I don't write my 'sermon' out and then read it, I try to think of the points I want to make and then I just talk to the people in the audience. I'm especially interested in the reactions of those I don't know very well, I find it interesting, what they take away from what I've said.

In other parts of my life, headquarters has sent out dire emails warning all of us that we are not to discuss our work lives on the internet. I'm becoming increasingly leery of having anything online, and so I probably won't ever talk about my work again. Which is a shame because it's by far the funniest things that happen to me. Oh well. When Ed and Delia come up here to visit me, I'll tell them stories until they die laughing.

You're a Wooly Mammoth!

A little heavy and a lot shaggy, you move a little slower than the
world around you. You definitely wish global warming would go away, and maybe even
reverse itself a bit. You like long walks on the ice floe, and could even get stuck
there without minding too much. Your favorite Sesame Street character is
Snuffleupagus. Beware of tar pits... although you really didn't need to be told that,
did you?


Take the Animal Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

That is just too funny!!!!!!!!!!!!!! We were just arguing yesterday with Kirsten's boyfriend about how it's hard to believe in global warming when it's minus 60 and your eyelashes are frozen together. I do like walking on the ice floes, and since Miguel and Ian are currently putting linoleum in the porch, my ground floor is full of tar.

We had Vikings last week. We made the Globe and Mail. Again.

Have I mentioned recently how much I love living here?

I know, I'm delinquent here. It's been court, the last week or so, and that means that I not only have the usual things to do at work but we also have remand guests in the cellblock and the Crown attorneys hang out at our office.

Court only comes to town about every two and a half months or so. The cycle of my work is very tied to the demands of court, and I find it takes all my energy for about two weeks beforehand and a week or so afterwards. The weekend before court is never really a weekend. It's just two more work days.

My dad is recovering. Slowly, but he sounds more like himself on the phone. My friend who went on the lam is still, as far as I know, at large. Ian's home from camp and it's wonderful to have him home. He had a great time and has come back very confident - he got top cadet in his platoon!

It's eleven thirty. It's the end of Miguel's 40th birthday. I got him a pig mug and some jellybeans and Kirsten baked him a cake, and Rachel gave him the 7th season of Seinfeld. We convinced him to go to Karen's for coffee after dinner, and our friends all dropped in casually and bugged him. One gave him a tape measure.

She explained it like this: although her husband is very handy and does a lot of work around the house, he always blames her and the kids when he can't find his tape measure. You rotten kids are always taking my stuff and losing it, how am I expected to get anything done around here, etc, etc. So last weekend when he cleaned out his workshop and found, in various places, no less than nine tape measures, my friend claims this as a moral victory of sorts. If the children had taken them they would be under beds or out in the driveway, not in the workshop. So the tape measure for Miguel was a symbolic gift, of sorts...

One of my friends from the prison I worked at in BC is 'on the run' tonight. I want a happy ending for this, but I don't know.

So many things don't count, up here. When I go somewhere else I remember.

We don't have cell phones. When I leave the house, no-one can find me unless they're willing to drive around and look for me.

Maclean's magazine sent me an email today offering to give me a chance to win a free car. There are no cars here. There are lots of old trucks, and some new trucks, but unless you count my friend Bella Rose's purple Jeep, there are no cars. The Dodge Neon that Maclean's is dangling would be completely useless here. I can barely get our big old black truck out of the driveway in the winter. A Dodge Neon would probably sit under a snowdrift for ten months of the year.

Unless you remember to go to the store after work and before seven o'clock, no food can be purchased. Except junk food from the game hall, if you don't mind braving the army of small children who hang there. And sometimes when you do remember to go to the store, the thing you were thinking you'd have for dinner is unavailable. David was here and he drinks Coke, but there wasn't any in town that week. We're used to this but I think he was pretty surprised. Like, if there's no Coke don't you just go to another store. Mmm. good thought.

We see movie trailers on tv and commercials for fast food, but we have no movie theater, no MacDonald's, no Taco Bell, no nothing but a pizza kiosk that generally shuts down around 5 pm, or earlier if they're bored. Our Friday night entertainment is usually sitting at my friend Patti's on her couch, or on her deck if it's not too too cold, eating her crab dip and talking. Sometimes we play Trivial Pursuit or argue with Peter (he's an atheist lawyer) about theology or justice. My friends all help with various things around town, Beavers and Cubs and the Education Authority (like a school board only not so much board) and we curl so we're together a lot in one capacity or another. If someone's building something, others come to help. We dog-sit and guinea-pig-sit. My father in law thinks we might be a commune. I think I could handle that.

Yeah, this is Kirsten and David at the beach in July. It's the Arctic. What can I say. (but don't they look cute?)

It has been busy here. Kirsten's friend is visiting from Ohio and it's been wonderful to have him here. Work is busy but they're mad at me at the moment because I took three days off this week to spend with them. Well, except one guy, who told me I should have taken the whole ten days off, and the rest of them be damned. But I did finish every scrap of work I had last week, and I've been in every evening to tidy up, and I'll be back tomorrow so hopefully they'll get over it.

We went out to the cabin last weekend, and stayed out there with Kirsten and David. We've been fishing a lot, and yesterday we went to the beach (in raincoats, mitts, hats...) and made a fire and had a picnic. Some muskox were running about in the distance, so David can say he saw some, but really they were just brown moving blobs.

My dad is recovering from his surgery, slowly, he's been at home since the weekend but is having home nursing as he still is feeling crappy and retaining fluid. He is probably not going to need a permanent pacemaker. My mum is talking about not going back to work in September, but staying home to look after him, but he doesn't want that.

My heart goes out to those who are struggling today. You know who you are.

Today while I was sitting with someone who took it into their head to run naked through the streets, I heard this song on the radio. It seemed apropos, somehow. REM, The Great Beyond:

I'm pushing an elephant up the stairs
I'm tossing up punch lines that were never there
Over my shoulder a piano falls
Crashing to the ground
I'm breaking through
I'm bending spoons
I'm keeping flowers in full bloom
I'm looking for answers from the great beyond

Headed for Alberta on Friday. Gonna go drop Rachel in Ponoka so she can go to horse-and-bible camp. And fetch Kirsten's boyfriend, who is arriving from Ohio to visit us.

Dad's operation went long, he had some bleeding and they left the breathing tube in overnight, but they took it out today and he's talking to my mum and my brother Roy in the cardiac ICU. I've been trying to keep my little brother, Graeme in Australia feeling connected to the whole process - he's so far away.

Thanks for all the prayers...

Mum called today, called me at work which freaked me out, Dad's surgery has been moved to this Thursday. Which is also his 70th birthday.

things I did not do today (but have been meaning to do for a while).

clean the bathroom.
empty the dishwasher
pull the little piece of cardboard out from where it's stuck under the dishwasher
peel the stickers off the kitchen floor
buy juice (this one I wish I had done. oh well. settled for beer.)

I also didn't want to wash the floor in the kitchen, because the puppy seems so close to the ground that I thought it'd get sick from the Mr. Clean.
The dishwasher will still be there in the morning. Ditto the bathroom, the cardboard, the stickers.
Instead I sat and read Kirsten the Chuck Norris facts. (There is no such thing as global warming. Chuck Norris was cold so he turned up the sun.)

Things I Did Today.

Slept in. - didn't wake up until 20 minutes before I'm supposed to be at work, and I managed to take a shower and let both dogs out. Arrived at work on time. With wet hair.

Sneezed on other people's keyboards. - One of the police databases accidentally got removed from my computer. I called the central help desk and they helpfully suggested that a tech should "stop in". Yeah. After his coffee break 5000 kms away. I'll leave the door open.

Watched the folk in cells inbetween everything else I was doing. - the weather is nice and nobody wants to work.

Fetched my foodmail from the airport - I love foodmail. Today we got nectarines and asparagus and dragonfruit yogurt tubes. And chocolate milk. which I hate, but it makes Kirsten happy.

Somehow, during the course of my day, I managed to get a piece of pineapple lodged in my nose. It took a long time to snuff it out. I did this in the bathroom, for those of you who are wondering.

I share this with you because maybe it will make you say, hey, my day wasn't so bad, I don't have a cold like Kate's, I don't have to work while the rest of my family goes on a fishing trip, I don't have to puppy-sit (and I know it's gonna whine allllll night) and there is currently no fruit in my nasal cavity.

And as a note to Ed, when the man who fits the bill you describe walks into my life, he will probably be completely disgusted to find me trying to extricate something from my nose, and will run as fast as he can.

My dad's having his heart valve surgery on July the 11th. I'm scared... and I think he is too.

Kiviaq is staying with Kirsten and me. Kirsten now needs new socks. Kiviaq's owners have gone fishing with Miguel.

She's a very cute puppy. Her mom is part wolf. Rachel had (it's a long story) actually picked her out to be our puppy, but. It didn't quite work that way. But it's good to spend time with her anyway.

I'm a bit slow in the updating...

(which is like slow on the uptake but quieter.)

Took all my kids and one of Patti's out to the cabin this last weekend, it was windy but it was very cosy to be out there. Miguel was in Vancouver. We barbecued, swept up flies, played cards and bickered amicably, lots of fun. There is a converted woodstove that now burns oil like a furnace, and Ian helped me start it. When it warmed up, we made raisin scones in the oven for a midnight snack.

Work is good. Busy. Lots to do these days. And I have a summer cold that is a real pain. Now that we finally have summer.

Kirsten and I are going to be by ourselves the next couple of days, Rachel, Miguel, and Ian are going to Ferguson Lake fishing with some other families. Kirsten's puppy-sitting. I'll take pictures, because the puppy's awfully cute.

I'm tired tonight. this evening as I was walking home from Patti's, a little kid who looked to be about six shouted something at me. I turned and said, "what?" He repeated himself - "fucking white". I grinned at him and said, "thank you" but I walked a bit faster. Kids in this town spend a lot of time throwing rocks at things, and some of them have really good aim. I've taken calls at work from grownups who are outraged to find themselves the target of rock barrages as they go to the store.

Someone who failed a learner driver's test today said something about 'stupid' under his breath that I suspect was directed at me. I ignored him.

But I found that this evening with the little kid, I had some anger rise up inside me. I watched it for a while with interest. Would I go smack a little kid? I don't think so. But the urge was definitely there. But what I want to know is why? I'm an adult. This is a kid that doesn't know me. I should add that the kids who do know me, from work or Cubs, always greet me happily by name, some of them even run across the road to give me hugs. And once or twice kids I know have stopped kids I don't know from shouting slurs at me.

Does racism mean anything really, coming from a six year old who doesn't know me at all? Why is my response immediate anger?

"Do your little bit of good where you are; it's those little bits of good put together that overwhelm the world." -- Archbishop Desmond Tutu

Rachel and Kirsten and I did the church service today. Lots of fun. The texts were cool ones, Jesus and Elijah raising the dead, and we talked about zombies and waffles.

(Incidentally, Kirsten complained that I had left her out of the first sentence. I told her that's the reason Joeby's the only one who is allowed to read over my shoulder. Now she's leafing through my IPod...)

There is a minister coming. The week after next. So I probably won't do the service again. I'm not really an organized religion kind of person. I've really enjoyed our little experiment in Quakerish church. It's been very inspiring to listen to everyone's thoughts on our readings and our lives together. Most of us who go to the church are linked in other ways, as friends and co-workers, and it feels good to go on Sunday morning and think about our connectedness. I think I will really miss it if it gets to be different when the minister comes.

he's the only one who's allowed to look over my shoulder. (I know, some folks don't let their dogs sit on the couch. he doesn't know he's a dog.)

You know what's weird? Every year about this time things seem to break down. Last year I felt the need to share the world's most depressing poem, in 2005 I didn't post for the three and a half weeks around June 1st, and when I did it was to report chaos, in 2004 it was my delusion that I'd died and this:

things are getting a bit weird here. in case you haven't noticed. I'm obsessing about outkast and my concentration is shot. I'm contemplating giving up all my worldly possessions and becoming a bag lady. I have a nice bag, that M brought me back from a conference he went to recently, and I've been filling it with stuff.,

and in 2003 I had this to say:


I wish there were a way to make it all go away. To sit down in a corner and say, no, I've lost my sanity and I'm just going to sit here for a month until it comes wandering back of its own accord, and apologizes for screwing with me for so long. Then the dust under the couches and the pine needles in the bathtub and the clothes festering under the beds would be remedied by some sort of kindly matron person, and I could knit little sweaters for squirrels and the state would pay for it. I'm sure the squirrels would have all the answers, too, and if I listened to them they'd tell me that work is for suckers and life is for hanging upside down in trees and yelling at people. I wish I could rid myself of the feeling that I'm the biggest idiot in the world. That I could resign myself to the fact that my opinion is never going to amount to a hill of beans around here.

2002 around the beginning of June was when the doctor called to tell me he thought I had MS.

2001 there was a big gap between the end of April and the beginning of July. (these last two are from my now archived Diaryland diary)

What does this mean?

I don't know. I should mention that this is one of the things I often do, I like to look back at "this week in history" courtesy of my weblog and my old Diaryland site. Especially with the Diaryland site there is often a big contrast between my worries at the time and how I know things turned out. And I like to be reminded that I did ALL THAT schooling from 2002 to 2005, and have now got a job that uses it. But it was only today, looking at my 'first week in June-ish' posts from the past few years that I see parallels in emotion. I wonder if it's the anniversary of something but I can't think what.

a movie you all should watch: Men With Brooms.

because it has beavers (the road in front of the car is full of beavers. it's an omen. it's not an omen, it's just a bunch of confused beavers. get the brooms. what if it is an omen? and lo the river shall bring forth beavers in abundance, and they will enter thy house and...) and the Tragically Hip and Leslie Nielsen being funny.

some days I feel as if I'm sitting in sand. the universe is sand. it seeps through my fingers. the mental health worker came today, to see one of our incarcerated and disturbed individuals, and he and I talked about suicide. he's against it. he's a mental health worker. I suppose he has to be. I didn't tell him that there are days I understand. the universe is sand. everyone who ever lived before a hundred or so years ago is dead now. I put purge dates on files that someone will throw away after I'm dead. it's funny, this year the neverending darkness didn't get to me, but I'm having trouble dealing with the eternal light. at 2am you could still read a book outside, if you so desired.

the other night I had a dream that I was trying to escort a polar bear through town, and stop it from eating people. my friend Patti says that means I feel responsible for everyone in town. what a scary thought.

anyway. please know that I often get like this. and it passes. just, I don't always feel like talking...

On Saturday night we went to a hypnotist show. It was for the spring festival going on in town this week, and included dinner and a comedian. The comedian was a bit bemused by the whole "ohmygod it never gets dark" experience, and the fact that people were coming up to him at the airport and saying to him, "You must be the comedian," and not because they recognized him, but because they didn't. It's a small town.

Anyway, the hypnotist show. He asked for volunteers, and I stood up. Twenty of us went up and filled the chairs on the stage, and he said that he would be sending some of us back to the audience. After a few minutes of listening to his spiel, I still felt totally normal and I figured, ok, maybe I'm not suggestible enough and he'll send me back in a minute or two. Then he stepped it up, started asking us to stare at a spot on the ceiling, and then we had to close our eyes and then. After that my memory gets a bit spotty. At one point I guess he was going through the volunteers to see who was relaxed, and picking up people's hands and dropping them. I didn't realize he'd picked up my hand until I felt it hit my knee when it fell, so I can only imagine that he picked up my arm and it felt like overcooked spaghetti.

My friends said that I still seemed like myself. I have a memory, like you would have from a dream, of dancing with one of the town councillors. But apparently I was more reserved than some of the younger women.

I expected something more dramatic. I expected to not feel like myself, I think. But it was interesting, because it was as if there was a tiny bit of consciousness that was still me, and it was watching with interest. As if, I knew what I was doing but it didn't really matter. I was surprised afterwards to hear that all the people around me were asked to go back to their seats, I wasn't aware of that at all. Interesting, all in all.

Did you pray for Britney Spears? I'm afraid I did not. I can almost understand the angst of someone who perhaps did not intend to be famous (some are born famous, others have famousness thrust upon them) but I can't understand someone who has gone all out to flirt, seduce, and court fame and fortune and then becomes unhinged when it arrives at the door with a bouquet and a ring. Sorry. I think I'll save my prayers for others who really have rough lives.

Miguel came home from Yellowknife today and brought me a brand-new laptop. Yippee! It's beautiful, kind of a grey colour. It's a Compaq. And that's all I know. If you were expecting to hear specifications, I'm not your gal.

So the careening and crashing laptop I've been using (I'm not complaining, it lasted longer than I expected considering that it was second hand to begin with) can be consigned to the pile of non-working computer components. Which is growing. It's something we do. Rachel also got a laptop, as each kid got a computer for their 12th birthday and as she's not into the online gaming like her brother and sister, she wanted a laptop too.

Today we went ice fishing. Well, actually, some of our group did fish but most of us sat around the holes in a lazy manner and drank coffee. We were out by our cabin, so I went in, filled and lit the naphtha stove, and made tea. I'm looking forward to when we can go out there to stay, this summer.

There was a moment while we were travelling out there, and everything was white and silent, when I had the feeling of being a tiny living dot on a huge landscape. Very cool. There's something about this land that makes me feel ancient and somehow timeless, when I'm out in the middle of it...

Today, we had this. It was a busy day.

Stuff like this is logistically very difficult and complicated. Added to that, I swear the phone rang every three and a half seconds. Town of 1500, it's possible I talked to most of the adults. People kept calling to ask if they could leave their homes yet... I'm tired, but it's a good tired. The bit where the outcome was peaceful and favourable was wonderful.

My house seems to be endlessly full of enormous teenagers. There are always extra bodies lying on the floor in the living room, playing that Mortal Kombat game or watching movies. I suspect that some of them, although they claim to be visiting my son, are actually here to attempt proximity to my sixteen-year-old daughter. I always sort of thought that was a myth, but I see it in action here. Plus all my son's friends are growing madly, and the nice little eleven and twelve year old boys I met when we first moved here are now huge. Boys do that, hey? Just grow overnight? Ian slept for a couple of months and is now almost 5' 7". For those of you who are counting, yes, that is almost five inches taller than me. But it's good. Boys should be tall. And yeah, I'm short.

I think that I have forgotten to mention a couple of things that I found out in Australia. The happy thing being that Roy and Robyn are having a BABY and I will be an aunt in October. Robyn's almost my age, so they've been cautious about telling people, as she's old to be having her first baby, but it looks as if all is good.

The other thing, not so happy, is that my dad has to have open heart surgery again, and soon. One of his valves is failing, and he needs a new one. And they want to check on the five bypasses they did in 1993, as they usually only last ten years or so. We were bugging him that if they knew they were going to have to go in again they should have given him a zipper. He's pretty cheerful about the whole thing. It was funny, because I told them I was pregnant with Ian right around the time they told me Dad needed surgery, and now Roy tells them Dad'll have another grandchild right around the time of the second surgery.

We took the kids out on the snowmobiles today, over to where there's a cliff that gets a great overhang of snow and you can jump off. When we got out there, the snow was sparkly and the wind was just fetching little plumes of dusty snow off the top. Beautiful. And we all climbed up and leapt off. I'm tired now, but it was worth it. I find that in order to stay sane in the job I'd doing, I need to get out and play every once in a while. Don't get me wrong, I do love the job, but it tends to weigh on your mind. I didn't have to drive a kid, we had enough adults and snowmobiles and komatiks (wooden slatted sleds to pull behind snowmobiles) so that I ended up alone. This partly because my machine is a 350 and everyone else has a 500 or a 550, which pull the komatiks easier.

It seems strange that this time last month I was bodysurfing in Australia. I find that there's something very mind-clearing about riding on a snowmobile. After a while you don't think about anything any more. You just ride. It makes me think I might like riding a motorcycle, too, even though I've never done it.

Trying to clear the piles on my desk at home, today. This week I had cubs and a meeting of the school board and a late night at work when an emergency developed at 4:30 and I stayed with the radio at work because the guys were out on snowmobiles looking for someone and needed me. Then Friday night at midnight they called asking me to guard, so yesterday was kind of a write off too. Not that staying in bed all day is really such a hardship. But what happens is I come in and dump mail and stuff on my desk, and some of it really needs to be dealt with. Every time I get it all cleared up on a Sunday, I swear that I'm not going to do that during the week to come, but it never seems to happen. All the efficiency I might have at work doesn't seem to translate...

You know what's funny? (I know, I'm up too late. I'm not going to want to get up in the morning.)

Everything you do, in your life, while it's happening it all seems so random, somehow. But then one day you move on to something else and you look back, and you think, hey, did I do that for a reason? And even if you didn't do it for a reason, it all comes together and knits itself into a life. All the things I've done, and all the things that have happened to me, they add up to 39 years of stuff that didn't seem to have a plan at the time, and yet if I look back I've been going in the same direction all along.

Is that funny, or what? (Yeah, it's late. It made sense in my head. Really. Blame Prince. Electric word life / It means forever and that's a mighty long time)

Long day today. I'm in bed now. Because, when I'm the only one in the bed (well, unless you count Joeby) I can bring my laptop with me. And I can have all the pillows. In the last month I've spent four days, I think, with Miguel. And he's not back for another week yet, either. But he did call today, and all is going well in Europe. He and Kirsten were at Vimy the day before the Queen.

I was watching General Hospital. One of the characters, Jason, is meant to be the strong silent type, and Elizabeth, someone he's not currently in a relationship with, is having his baby. This situation calls for a lot of dramatic shots of Jason looking pained and conflicted. Ian, who was hanging about and pretending he doesn't watch GH, said to me, "Jason have big thinky brain. Big thinky brain must decide what to do about the baby." (I'm not trying to claim that Ian made this up, I know it's from Futurama, where the giant brains try to take over the earth) Then tonight I was dozing on the couch. I woke up to hear some really not-so-good American Idol-hopeful singing, and said to Ian, who was just turning off Mortal Kombat, "She's not very good." He replied, "I would imagine that's why she's wearing those shorts." I had to tell him later that Simon agreed with him.

I think I've spent so many years explaining things to the kids that I somehow don't think they legitimately have a thought unless I, or someone else, gave it to them? Don't get me wrong, I love it when they surprise me. When they told me not so long ago that if I help them with their Scrabble letters it means that I'm really just playing against myself... Heck, that's worked for years. I basically used play a four handed game of Scrabble, looking at everyone's letters and telling them what words to make and where to put them.

Rachel had a sleepover the other night. Three friends, and I said they could sleep in the living room and play video games and stay up as late as they wanted. I went to bed and put my IPod earphones on and listened to Prince. Next day her friends asked me not to tell their parents they stayed up late. I said, "Did you stay up late?" Rachel told me later that they had decided that I didn't count as a Parent. That I could be trusted to know that they hadn't gone to sleep until three AM. It's spring break. They have no school. I went to work in the morning and let them sleep in, came back to make them pancakes at 11:30. They had eight hours of sleep. Whatever. One of my very vivid childhood memories is of a sleepover I went to at a girl named Kim's house, when I was about Rachel's age. We stayed up pretty much all night, talking and laughing and playing games, and her parents went to bed and never came out and yelled at us once. And her mom made us breakfast in the morning like nothing had happened.

Happy Easter. It's very quiet here, without Miguel, Kirsten, and Ian. Rachel and I have been hanging out. We made snickerdoodles this afternoon, and yesterday we watched all the episodes of General Hospital that were recorded while I was away. I really like the PVR on the satellite tv. I know, I could probably think of a better use for that particular feature, something educational, but Luke's back on GH and so at the moment, I'm in.

Work is fantastic. I missed it so much. I feel all happy, inside. Even getting the truck stuck in the snow yet again today didn't upset me. I shouldn't drive. I should just walk. I haven't even set foot in the truck since Miguel left, but tonight Rachel persuaded me that she really needed a ride to her friend's place. I managed to move the truck about ten feet before getting it stuck. She walked. I spent about 45 minutes trying different things - wood and dog food and floor mats and cardboard under the wheels, and dug a whole lot of snow out from underneath it. No luck. Then my new neighbours showed up and made 'damsel in distress' comments, and pulled it out in about three seconds. So I emailed Miguel and told him we had to add them to the list of those who have helped me extricate the truck and other vehicles from sand/mud/snow/flat tires. It's a long list.

Tomorrow we're having Easter dinner with the other abandoned spouses. And children. I think it comes out to 3 adults and 8 or 9 children. Rachel and I are bringing salad. The truck is now parked in the detachment parking lot, behind the house, rather than in the driveway, so I might even be able to drive there....

Today I went back to work.

And when I say that, I mean, at the best job in the world, once again. The lady whose maternity leave I filled last year (who came back early) has gone again, and I have another six month contract. And it is still the best job. And it was so good to be back.

I'm sleepy tonight. But it's good. I know that tomorrow I get to go to work and be happy. Miguel is off to Europe with Kirsten tomorrow, he's chaperoning the high school tour of the Canadian battlefields, and they're both excited. And Ian's going to Yellowknife on Friday for a cadet rifle-shooting competition. So next weekend Rachel and I will be having Easter dinner with the two husbands left behind by the female chaperones. We're going to cook a turkey.

Everyone left Lorne on the Thursday, except me. Roy and Robyn went off to Adelaide, Graeme, Rae, Mum, and Dad went back to Melbourne so Mum and Dad could go for their week in Fiji.

I stayed. I got a room at the Erskine River Backpackers hostel, and did some more hiking for a couple of days.

The snake sign is at the beginning of the trail to Allenvale. I walked up the beach from Lorne to the St. George River. I looked at the sign, decided I wasn't planning to camp so I wouldn't worry about it, and set off up the trail. It was a quiet and soothing walk, through the forest with singing birds, lorakeets and cockatoos and king parrots all around. At Allenvale I found the trail for Phantom Falls, and continued on. It was a bit uphill. Eventually, the trail went down into a canyon and another sign announced Phantom Falls. Phantom was a good name, certainly, because they weren't there. Down at the bottom of the dry canyon, an older man was having his lunch. I was a bit worried about that, as I was now about 10k from town, and as you may know, I read far too many true crime books.

As it turned out, he was the least of my worries. I went around a fallen tree and started walking down towards the staircase up out of the canyon, and things slithered out of my way. Snakes. Skinny little things. With brown heads. Snakes were turning their heads to look at me disdainfully, and then continuing on their way. I made some squeaky incoherent noises, leapt back, and went to turn around. More snakes. Still squeaking, I walked a few more steps. Three or four more snakes decided that they needed to leave one side of the path for the other side. I made some more noises, and then somewhere in my head, under the hysteria, I knew that I couldn't turn back, as it was too hot and I didn't have enough liquids left to hike back the 10 or 12 k I had already come. Presumably, since I hadn't seen a single snake until this point, they hung out in the canyon. The snake pit. If I could get up to the staircase and get out of the canyon, I probably wouldn't see any more. So I set off, stomping my feet and yelling, "Snakes, get out of my way, snakes, I'm coming through, I hate snakes, and you don't have ears anyway but it makes me feel better to yell, snakes, coming through" until I reached the staircase. Sure enough, once up and out there were no more. Although, before my heart returned to normal, something wrapped itself around my ankle and I went hysterical again for a second or two before I realized it was a piece of bark.

I don't know. I figure the guy sitting at the bottom of the canyon must have heard me. If so, I hope he got a good laugh...

A kookaburra and his family visited us, at the Lorne house. And Roy and Robyn and I went out to the Gray River koala reserve. Koalas were all over, in the trees, and they were fast asleep. We were talking to this one and he didn't even stir. Roy wanted to pet him, but Robyn and I talked him out of it.

I liked Lorne. Did a lot of walking there, too. I especially enjoyed a hike up through dry forest to reach a lookout, with this view.

And after the wedding we drove up the Great Ocean Road towards Lorne, where a house had been rented for all of us to stay in for the week.

It was warm in Melbourne. Much hotter than home. 28 degrees. I took full advantage of it, spent every minute I could outside. It'll be a while here before we're outside without parkas and toques and mitts on.

Melbourne is a good city to walk around. I think I wore out my shoes. For most of the time I was by myself, as Dad isn't up to walking much anymore and everyone else had wedding preparation things to do. Except Robyn, so she and I took the tram to St. Kilda, the morning before the wedding, and walked on the seafront.

The wedding was held at Montsalvat, a beautiful place that used to be an artist's colony.

This picture is taken from the back of the Old Melbourne Gaol. I spent quite a long time reading all the exhibits on the walls, and was interested to see that it is possible, according to one death certificate, to die of too much 'self-stimulation'. We have a few regular visitors to our cell-block at home who might benefit from that little bit of information.

Australia was an adventure. Partly because I was escorting my parents on the Vancouver to Melbourne portion of the journey. My dad, who's now seventy, did very well, he was cheerful and excited to be going, but the trip brought into stark relief, for me, my mother's increasing mental confusion and emotional fragility. She had a couple of bouts of alcohol-induced tearfulness, which, to my chagrin, I found very annoying. I would like to think that I could be sympathetic, but I guess the past year or so of dealing with the emotions of drunks in cells, I find that I'm just not. You're drunk. You're crying. Yeah, you and all the other drunks. Oh, right. You're my mother.

There were funny moments, though. Mum has been given a walkman, and she likes it. She puts the headphones on and sings along. People gave her some funny looks. Also, on the plane when she was listening to her music, she kept thinking of things to say to me, while she was still hooked up to the walkman, and yelling them in my ear. At one point, when the flight attendants were about four rows away, she suddenly shrieked, "Tell them I'll have white wine!". Everyone around giggled, even the happy flight attendants (Air Pacific cabin crews are the most laid-back on the planet) but then when they came by, they gave her red wine and she didn't notice until my father pointed it out.

Well, Blogger is giving me a hard time, I'm not having any luck uploading the pictures of my trip. But I'll try again.

I'm jet-lagged. I feel strange and out of synch. Rachel's teacher, Christy, says it's because your soul only travels as fast as a horse, and so you have to wait for it to catch up. So I guess my soul is swimming around in the Pacific. Hopefully it knows I came back home, and it doesn't have to swim all the way to Australia and back. Because I'm pretty sure it wouldn't have arrived in Australia before I left. I keep falling asleep when I sit down. And my brain is anxious. And my feet are still swollen.

Happy Feet, yes, Ed, is a cartoon about penguins. I don't even remember what the scene was that made me cry, some boy-penguin/girl-penguin thing. I get emotional when I fly.

This is Delia's tag.

1. Where is your cell phone? I do not own one. They don't work up here.
2. Your spouse? Watching American Idol
3. Your hair? Down my back. And orange, again.
4. Your mother? In Tahiti.
5. Your father? Ditto.
6. Your favorite thing? Rachel.
7. Your dream last night? I don't know, but I woke up in a hotel room and didn't know where I was.
8. Your favorite drink? Grapefruit pop.
9. Your dream car? I'd rather have a button-start snowmobile. I get tired of putting my shoulder out pulling the start cord.
10. The room you are in? Dining room. Where I can hear American Idol but not see it. And Rachel is standing next to me.
11. Your ex? Ex what?
12. Your fear? Dying.
13. What do you want to be in 10 years? Exactly what I am right now.
14. Who did you hang out with last night? The bartender at Montana's. And Madonna. I couldn't sleep so I watched Desperately Seeking Susan.
15. What you’re not? A good housekeeper
16. Muffins? Blueberry. Or Lemon.
17. One of your wish list items? Snowmobile as above.
18. Your dinner tonight? Chicken.
19. The last thing you ate? Strawberries after Cubs.
20. What are you wearing? Green shirt I bought yesterday, jeans, my bracelets from Tahiti, Grannie's cross.
21. Your tv? Is currently tuned to American Idol.
22. Your pet?Joeby, who is a goof but very loyal.
23. Your computer? My mother-in-law's old laptop.
24. Your life? Wheeee.
25. Your mood? Really good. I'm home with my family.
26. Your holidays? Oh, just did that.
27. What are you thinking about right now? How to get Rachel to stop putting herself down.
28. Your car? Don't have one.
29. Your work? I start MONDAY woohoooo.
30. Summer? Well, it'll be here. It's still minus 20 or so. But I'm sure it coming.
31. Your relationship status? Good, I think...
32. Your dream vacation? Hiking anywhere. With Rachel.
33. When is the last time you laughed? Very recently.
34. Last time you cried? On the trip home. About Happy Feet. I was tired...
35. School? Well, not at the moment, but I don't rule out the possibility of a Master's. When I'm done having fun up here.

The wedding was beautiful and all concerned happy about the outcome. I'll put pictures up when I get home, they got married in a beautiful artist's colony, and the reception was at a 30's dancehall. Very elegant. Graeme and his new wife had even learnt to tango so they could do that as their first dance.

Other than that I've been wandering around, down on the waterfront and in the town, it's so nice to be out without a parka! And drinking beer. I like Victoria Bitter, and have been spending some quality time in its company...

Anyway. I'm in the library now. Roy and Robyn are off to get a rental car, and tomorrow we're going up the Great Ocean Road, where Graeme's rented a house for us all to stay in, on the beach, and we're going to go surfing....

I am in Melbourne. I got up this morning and ditched my parents. I heard them at the door but I hid upstairs. I got them here, my responsibillity is over. Anyway. I've taken the train downtown and I'm just wandering around. Such a beautiful city, all the old buildings and the new shiny ones. Gonna go see the Old Melbourne Gaol, I think. I'm loving the warmth. And the sunshine. And being alone. More later....

Yesterday I was idly watching television after supper, and the phone rang. On the other end was the young woman working in the guardroom, asking me if I'd come in to work until midnight. When I arrived (now that we've moved I'm about 2 minutes away including coat-putting-on time) she had her coat on and she ran off.

Only one cell was occupied, and it was a man I know. He greeted me by name, and said, "I'm so glad you're here. That other one gave me dinner and it was still frozen, and she's been outside smoking all evening, and I'm dying of thirst." I went down to the coffee room and bought him a pop and a bag of chips, then sat on the floor for an hour and we talked through the little window in the cell door. He's feeling very sorry for himself, for various reasons, but there's also a realization that he's brought all this on himself, and we talked about that. Although I had been annoyed at being called back to work after already doing a full day of transcribing, it seemed like he really needed to talk. Afterwards, he settled down and went to sleep, and I worked on the baby blanket I'm crocheting (I give them to the income support office, I'm not having any more babies.)

The only problem with working the evening shift is that I end up back home again at midnight, and I can't go to sleep right away. It happened again tonight, the same girl called and talked me into coming in. So here I am. And I'll still be up relatively early, because I like to get to work before eight thirty in the mornings, to clean up after the night shift and make coffee for the day shift. Even though really I don't have to, because making coffee isn't in any of my job descriptions. Oh, well.

I'm almost ready to go. Although I do still need to find one of my black shoes, the only decent pair of shoes I own. I've got one, but its mate is missing. I suspect the dogs. I found my non-Arctic coat, (it's black, goes with the shoes) that I haven't worn since September, and it's filthy. It seems to have been dragged through some mud. This I can't blame on the dogs.

Dad asked the travel agent, and although we are compelled to spend about 14 hours in Fiji on our way to Australia, we are not allowed to leave the airport. Given the snakes that I saw on the last episode of Survivor, I can't say I'm terribly sorry. Hate snakes. Hate 'em.

We had a blizzard today. Very windy. I now need clear skies up here until Saturday, so I can get out safely.

I think that tomorrow night I will stay home.

Saturday night:

Clear. Wind becoming northwest 30 km/h overnight. Low minus 43. Extreme wind chill minus 63.

Ow.

Grannie's funeral was Wednesday. I called and talked to Mum in the evening. Hard day all round.

However, my passport came and I sent off the information, to get my visa for Australia, and then my tickets arrived yesterday. So I guess I'm really going. Maybe it'll be a bit warmer than here. I'm leaving here Friday and staying in Edmonton Friday and Saturday nights, flying to Vancouver Sunday morning to meet Mum and Dad and catch the plane for Fiji. This gives me some leeway if flights get screwed up due to storms. This means that I've got a day to shop in Edmonton, but my list is pretty long. I've got to get a dress for the wedding, I desperately need a haircut, I need some other clothes, too, and books. Definitely need books...

Matthew 11:

25At that time Jesus answered and said, I thank thee, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes.

26Even so, Father: for so it seemed good in thy sight.

27All things are delivered unto me of my Father: and no man knoweth the Son, but the Father; neither knoweth any man the Father, save the Son, and he to whomsoever the Son will reveal him.

28Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.

29 Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.

30For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.

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This is the reading for Grannie's funeral. I like it that they took my suggestion, even though I'm so far away and can't be there....

My mum called Monday at lunch time to say that Grannie passed away. Not unexpected, she's been fading, the last year or so. But still a shock, when it actually happens. I feel lost. I know that I'm incredibly lucky to have had a grandparent still in my life at 39, but then again I'd come to think of her as somehow indestructible. That we'd be having her 105th birthday at some point and her jokes about us having to shoot her in the end being true... I wish I could go to the funeral, but it's in England next week and it's just not doable. So, if you think about it, send a little thought out for my dear Grannie. We'll miss her. Graeme and I both figure she's off somewhere playing dominoes with Grandpa now. I hope that's so.

It is Valentine's Day. Miguel is in Yellowknife with a co-worker. (male and Hungarian. they've been shopping)

We had spaghetti for dinner, tonight, and I made custard for dessert. For Ian, who loves it.

I got two valentines. One from one of the Cubs, last night, and one from my friend Karen. It has two frogs on it. I said to her, "You've been to my house." "Yeeesss," she replied, "And I know about your little problem." I explained that others buy me the frogs, but she was unconvinced. She said, "I understand Batwoman, or Catwoman, but Frogwoman?" Truthfully the frogs are getting out of hand. I declared a moratorium on people buying them for me, a few years ago, and sold some when we moved up here (the larger stone garden ones) but they keep appearing. Miguel's parents brought me a beautiful soft stuffed frog, last week.

The lady whose maternity leave I filled at the detachment has decided she needs to stay home with her baby. So I will hopefully be back in that job for six months starting when I get back from Australia. Yippee! I can't wait.

But the funny thing is, I knew she would be saying something like that. Last week she started cleaning out her desk, and she moved her soap. I came home and said to Miguel, after I'd been over there cleaning in the evening, "I think she's thinking about leaving again, because she had two bars of soap on the sink and she's moved the unopened one." As if to say, I won't be needing this soap, because I won't be here...

Oh my.

I can't talk about what I'm doing at work. I've been sworn to secrecy (I feel like a spy) because I'm transcribing interviews for someone at headquarters and he doesn't even want me to save what I'm doing on our hard drives at work. But it's fascinating. I'm beginning to have an indepth understanding of how polygraphs are administered.

I think the post office tried to contact me this week, but I was holed up doing the abovementioned transcribing. As I suspected, the class is not going. I had one student for ten minutes on Wednesday. However, they've got me doing some proposal writing, for a Life Skills course for September that they're trying to find funding for, and I got to spend an hour with my students from the social work program I was teaching before Christmas, so that was fun.

Today I cleaned house from top to bottom. Even vacuumed the rug in the laundry room. All is clean. This partly in preparation for Miguel's parents moving to town on Tuesday. Don't know if I've mentioned that... but coming they are, and soon. (I'm wondering if I'll ever have the chance to say, "this town's not big enough for the both of us...")

The sun is out a lot more now. It's 3:45 and it's not dark yet. It was a brilliantly sunny day, which is what sparked the cleaning frenzy. When it's dark all the time, you don't notice the dirt. ha. Miguel showed up back home just as I was emptying the last of the mop water. All that was left for him to do was take out the garbage. I think he has radar. Lurks over at the school, and then suddenly says, "Oh, she's done cleaning. I can go home now." I'm kidding. He offered to help, when he got back, but I wanted to get it over and done with. So that I could mess around later on this afternoon, posting here and answering emails. Also I have a new magazine, with promises of recipes. And I made some paper earlier this week that needs ironing and starching.

Interestingly enough, I read recently, an interview with a guy I went to university with. I was in the writing class he mentions, at the same time he was (he's a sweet guy) and the professor said much the same to me, about 'are you sure you want to be a writer'. I took it to mean (as I think he did) that I was wasting my time, and I stopped writing fiction for years. Turned to poetry and messed around with that. Anyway. Long story short, I have been writing fiction again recently. And enjoying it. If I ever get published, I'm going to give a similar interview, about how Professor R. W. told me I should rethink my life goals... (or maybe I should say, when I get published).

Here is our weather. It's celsius. (Although I believe that at minus 45 the two measurement systems merge?)

Blizzard warning in effect.

Tonight

Blizzard. Wind northwest 60 km/h gusting to 80. Low minus 28. Wind chill minus 46.

Thursday

Blizzard ending in the morning then sunny. Blowing snow in the morning. Wind north 50 km/h gusting to 70 diminishing to 30 gusting to 50 in the morning. Temperature falling to minus 31 in the evening. Wind chill minus 46.

Thursday night

Clear. Wind up to 15 km/h. Low minus 34 with temperature rising to minus 23 by morning. Wind chill minus 46.

The keys to the post office have been out of my possession for 48 hours now. They haven't called me. I think it might be over. After my last post I surrendered the keys but someone dropped them off at my house surreptitiously and I ended up back there again last week. I feel very grumpy about the whole thing.

I've been sick since Saturday. A nasty flu-thing. My class that I'm supposed to be teaching has also dwindled, due to sick babies. I went in yesterday and today and waited for 25 minutes or so, but no students, so I thankfully went back home to bed. Tonight I feel a bit better, but I think it might just be the virus regathering strength to come back at me in a different area.

I'm not sure that this class is going to fly. Interest seems sporadic. Which is a shame, but then what can you do? I guess the funny thing is that seven students were signed up, but so far I've only seen one on any kind of a regular basis, and a mixture of excuses and silence from the rest. But, I've been working a lot, since the beginning of November, and I decided that the sickness (which rarely happens to me) is because I'm too tired. So I'm being lazy. I watched soap operas with Kirsten all afternoon today. Too much fun.

Some things of note:

Cucumbers are currently $8.19 each. I like cucumbers, but not that much.

Coffee came in the mail. Mmm.

My last day at the post office is Friday. Yay!

The sun is peeking over the horizon at lunch time for an hour or so, now. It's pink and orange and very well-cherished. People keep coming into the post office and saying, "So nice to see the sun." Then they yell at me cos they've got no mail. Yeah, that's cos nobody loves you. Suck it up.

I spent ALL last week, (well, it seemed like it, 70 hours in all) sitting in a truck guarding the crime scene from the incident I linked to below. Triple homicide. Strange thing to happen in our otherwise pretty sleepy little town. Plus I worked my other regular jobs. I slept for 14 hours on Sunday night, after working a 12 hour day... I'm still a bit tired.

I'm still trying to find a dress for Graeme's wedding. The ones I like online are all back-ordered. Patti lent me two, but she's -- more of a woman -- than I am so they don't fit on top. Found a beautiful dress at Victoria's Secret but it won't be shippable until March 16th. The day after the wedding. Ack.

Oof.

It is possible, as with one of the victims of the shooting here, to be mailing parcels at 3pm on Friday and lying dead in the street at 4am on Saturday.

Life is so fragile.

Give each other hugs.

We had some excitement last night.

See here.

I have had an offer of "all the work I can handle", due to the retirement of the lady who generally does all the transcriptions for the territory, and so I've given my notice at the post office. So I will be transcribing full time, and when I come back from Australia that's ALL I will be doing. No more doing other people's jobs, this will be mine. I don't know if I can communicate how good that feels. And it won't be retail. Life is good.

Miguel was supposed to be going out to Toronto today, but there is a blizzard so he is grounded. Which is fine, because he would have had to have missed a friend's birthday party. Which is where we are going now, and maybe Miguel will get off to Toronto tomorrow.

The set of twigs in the middle of my kitchen window is a poinsettia. I bought it at the store, a 6 inch poinsettia, the clerk put it in a bag, Miguel carried the bag out to the truck and put it in the back. I should point out that the back of the truck is full of snow. By the time we got home, the poinsettia was wilting desperately, and it dropped all its leaves within the next 12 hours.

The scarcity of posting has been largely due to a/ the demands of the post office (they are legion and I understand the time-honoured tradition of arriving at work toting a weapon of some calibre) and b/ the movingandsettling process.

There was an alcohol ban in this community for the Christmas season. This, I have to say, worked well during the ban. But the prohibition period did not include New Year's Eve, and New Year's Day found me working in the lockup, with some severely hungover folks who had no idea what they were doing there.

I have been approached by the college to do a seven-week literacy for young mothers contract, and I think I'm going to take it. Sounds like fun. So, heartbreakingly, I have to quit the post office.

And then in March I'm off to Australia for little brother's wedding. I'm making my own dress. Out of bacon. And I'm collecting chicken nuggets to throw after the ceremony. Hee hee. Oh, and Graeme? Your gift's a rotisserie oven. Cos I've got one and it's too much fun.

A candy cane that I ate tonight yielded a large lump of metal, that I identified, belatedly, as the enormous filling from my right-top-back tooth. Ack. And there's no dentist on the horizon.

Nice things about being in our own house:

Rachel no longer gets locked out of the bedroom she shared with Kirsten.
The kitchen is big enough for two people to prepare a meal together without coming to blows or performing impromptu amputations.
Joeby's got his own couch.
The cupboards were full of dishes - nobody has to eat off the camping plate.
The television does not rule the house....