Went to Vancouver yesterday, for my first class of the fall term. M came with me, and we went to the Vancouver Art Gallery. Art was a bit sparse, they were dismantling the first and second floors after exhibitions, but Emily Carr was on the fourth floor and some assorted BC pictures on the third. Enjoyed wandering around looking at them, despite the bag full of newly-purchased textbooks that would have been better left in the coatcheck. Emily Carr is best when she sticks to trees and doesn't try to render buildings. But her trees are such amazing colors, like essence of tree. We watched and discussed the changing sky from the ferry, to see how the edges corresponded to a painting M is currently working on. I'm very much liking being an observer in the process of his painting, it's making me want to do something creative of my own... (other than have babies)

I'm hesitating over taking on another volunteer thing. I had thought I might apply to either the Crisis Line or the Women's Assault line, both are currently looking for trainees. But I've registered for a counselling skills course up at Malaspina in October/November, I've got my SFU courses, Crimestoppers and AVP, and theoretically I should be looking for work. I begin to think I'll have a hard time finding a job if I can only work Monday mornings. I'm exaggerating, but you see what I mean. There are only so many hours in the day... (although, admittedly, more now since I've taken up smoking again)

Went to Perkins today, while M's car was having the engine light checked at the transmission place. (when we got back, the mechanic said, "I cut the wire to the fuse", and on the way home we asked each other whether he meant he had just cut the wire to the engine light and voila, solved the problem) Last time we were at Perkins, M asked for two vanilla lattes and they gave us sugar-free vanilla. Which I hate, I can't stand the taste of aspartame and it gives me a stomach ache. They are so stunned there, now, I want to ask them if I can go make my own latte, M said the shots today poured for 2 seconds. Should be 18-20 seconds... The woman working seemed perturbed that M was specifying NOT sugarfree vanilla for me, (he always speaks up for me) and that he questioned whether it was one shot, after watching her pour both the two second shots into my latte. She said, "yes, one shot". She gave me my latte for free today, but she was pretty abrupt about it. I want to say to them, when I go in there and it's All New Staff yet again, "look, I'm not trying to be difficult, but I ran this place for four years and you're not using that machine properly". Last time, also, Al, who we sold the shop to, was there, and he asked me what one of the nozzles on the cappuccino machine was for. I showed him which button ran it, and told him it was for hot water for Americanos. Don't know how they've been managing to make Americanos, if they didn't know that. For crying out loud, it's a $20,000 cappuccino machine, you owe it to yourself to learn how to operate it.

School will be starting again soon for everyone. I think M is going to come with me on the first day, to Simon Fraser, so that we can go for lunch and hit the art gallery downtown Vancouver. Kids are either nervous (Kirsten), unconcerned (Ian), or excited (Rachel). Ian had hoped to skip grade five, but it seems he won't be doing that.

I was standing at work watching the Olympics, and I happened to mention to one of the customers that I didn't understand synchronized swimming. I told him it looked to me like cheerleading underwater. He agreed, and said that he was marvelling at the number of bizarre things being called sport in this Olympics, and that he was waiting eagerly for hide-and-seek to be added, because he felt he could definitely qualify.

Rachel has tried to make easymac in the microwave without adding water, and the resulting smell is on a par with burnt gymshorts.

All is underway for the exodus from BC lotteries. All staff have been informed, nobody was very surprised, and in fact Nicole and Ron are interviewing to take over the booth. Nicole has worked for me on and off for about a year and a half, she used to be maintenance at the other mall I was at and she and I would gab while she was supposed to be cleaning. If they get it, I would like that, as training Ron would be fun and also Nicole already knows the whole score.

Musing a lot recently on consequences of actions. If someone else is hurt by my actions, what is my responsibility? I sense it's a multi-variant question, like those terrible calculus things that change as you go along. Life being a dialectic, each action creates both backward and forward ripples. Hard to remain centered, right now.

Poetry about Paul Simon... two of my favorite things combined.

I will no longer have to sell lottery tickets. I haven't a clue what will happen next, in more ways than one, but I will no longer have to make sixpacks and doubledips for rude customers. Random snippets of passing conversations and the everlasting muzak will no longer be the backdrop to my days. I will be able to sustain a thought, and not be told I'm "daydreaming" by intruders to my reverie. Conversations will no longer start with "I know I've got a ticket in here somewhere..." or "Gimme...". Perhaps the people I greet in my everyday life will respond, rather than just standing mutely while I process their tickets.

On the other hand, I will no longer have funny stories to tell, and not nearly so much to complain about.

I quit my job. Called the lottery and said, I'm resigning. Feels wonderful. I'm taking two classes in September, two more after Christmas, and my PBD will be done. Don't know what I'll do next, but it will not involve the public. I'll save cardboard boxes and live under a bridge, but I'm done with retail. I'm almost 37 and I still have a job where I wear a nametag...

Nice camping trip. Sat on the beach a lot, had some existential moments in the middle of the night, thought about the future. It was cooler than at home, as it always is on the west coast, and we enjoyed being able to stop sweating so much. Went out for dinner with mum and dad tonight, drank beer and smoked Mum's cigarettes. Much to Dad's disgust.

A boy called Kirsten tonight at dinner and asked her to go to a movie.  When Ian was told the identity of the boy, he said, "But Justin's not smart and he never takes his coat off".  Kirsten replied, "That's not true anymore".  I said, "He got smart?"  She said, "No, he takes his coat off now".

Rachel has gone to the river with Montana and Olivia.  Ian and Joey are watching videos.  Kirsten and Caitlin have gone to the movies.  At 4:45 I have to fetch Kirsten and Caitlin from the movies, and at 5:20 I have to fetch Llewellyn from the sea-plane terminal.  Then Caitlin and Joey are going to their grandparents at 6:15, Rachel's coming back from Montana's at 6:30, and the four of us who live here, and Llewellyn, are going to the fireworks.  Afterwards, Rachel is sleeping over at Montana and Olivia's, and Llewellyn's sleeping over here.  Then I have to be at work by 10 tomorrow morning so I'll have to retrieve Rachel and return Llewellyn.  Clear?  Yup, I feel the same way.

I'm writing my euthanasia paper.  Not all that difficult, actually, which may be a bad thing...  however, in the spirit of procrastination, this is interesting on the dynamics of internet groups.

It's good to be home for the day.  Ian just came to show me he has hacked Kirsten's Furby, to make it burp uncontrollably.

The other day I came home to a message informing me that I am still under consideration for the Residential Schools research job... to my surprise, as the deadline had come and gone. I am still trying not to think too hard about it, but I find myself at odd moments thinking, mmmm work from home, no customers, no lottery tickets...

M is in Connecticut and New York until the 26th. He managed to get to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and spent an evening there. I wish I could have gone with him.

My eyes haven't been hurting as much lately. I have even been driving a bit, with very dark sunglasses that I bought from Zellers for 5 bucks.

It looks as if I might have a day off today. I've been working a lot since Cindy broke her foot, which is ok as sales are really down right now and I can't afford to pay so much labour.

I got a call from the family, this afternoon. Apparently the car refused to start outside West Edmonton Mall.

Other than the teenagers in my cherry tree at 2 am (this I think is karma and I should just bow to the universe for things I did in Vulcan as a teenager) and the neighbour's dog getting a cat cornered in my yard at 5 am, I seem to be ok by myself at the moment. A bit lonely, I'm reading a lot and doing a lot of schoolwork, trying to fill my head with words. Took mum and dad out for dinner for their respective birthdays which are both coming up, had a good time, all in all.

When we were first married, in 1988, we came out from Alberta to Vancouver Island for an immensely rainy honeymoon. My abiding memory is of renting a car and driving to Qualicum Beach from Victoria to the accompaniment of the windshield wipers and CBC Stereo. He loves rain, so we decided that our first definitive act as a married couple would be to drop everything and move out here. He dropped out of university, I rounded up enough courses to complete a three year degree, we quit our gas station jobs. We stuffed everything we owned into his truck and my car, including my cat, and headed out for a trailer park just outside of Nanaimo.
The trailer was a hand-me-down, given perhaps somewhat reluctantly by his parents. His father had gutted the inside of it to make a painting studio, and it smelled of oil paint and cigarette smoke. The people who were moving it for us showed up on Friday morning and hooked it up to a semi trailer. We were on our way. I loaded the cat, Mao, a black sleek tom with an attitude the size of China, he loaded his guitar and the go board, we set off. Three minutes down the road from Alberta Beach, Mao took a huge dump in the litter box I had thoughtfully provided in the back seat. I stopped for an air freshener.
I drove through the mountains, happily listening to Journey and Boston on the tape player and singing along. It is mostly downhill from Blue River to Vancouver, and I coasted. Mao was not ideal company. He complained in a dying cat voice, panted a lot like he was dehydrating, and kept insisting on being either on my lap or underneath the gas pedal. Finally I reached the outskirts of Vancouver, two packs of cigarettes and numerous tapes later.
It began to be warm. It was April and I had left some snow in Alberta. The sun was shining in Vancouver and I decided it was time to lose my sweater. I rolled down the window a bit. Eventually I stopped at a stoplight and began to take off my sweater. At just that moment, Mao decided to make a break for it. Just as I rolled my sweater up to my shoulders, he leapt up and tried to squish himself through the window. At the same moment, I realized I had also pulled up my t-shirt and was sitting with my sweater and shirt around my head, trying, clad mostly in my bra, to stop the cat from going out the window, and the light was changing. In one of those bizarre convergences, everyone stopped around me was looking at me while I struggled with sweater, shirt, cat, and window, and no-one seemed to care that the light had changed…

Well, they've all gone off to Alberta. Except the dogs. I've made coffee, and am settling down to my violence paper, which is due on Thursday. Ack. I went to Victoria last weekend for AVP, so no writing got done, but it was a good workshop. One of the men had gone up for a faint hope hearing and he told us all about it. He was unsuccessful in gaining early parole, but he felt that the experience was good for all involved. At the end of the two week hearing, the family of the woman he killed came up and hugged him and cried and told him they were sorry he had to stay in prison...

Can't sleep. My right hand has gone past the non-working stage into the swelling up stage. As usual when it's acting up I spent the day throwing money at people. Everything is of course exacerbated by the fact that it's damn hot. But the Globe and Mail printed my letter, so right now I don't care. I'll just stay up all night and surf...