Things I have done this week while I've been off:

-- Hung out with the dogs and watched tv.
Cheers... Rebecca (Wearing her wedding gown, she's about to marry Robin): Ok, I’m almost done, now I just need something old, something borrowed, and something blue.
Carla: How about Norm’s liver?
Norm: (reasonably) I am almost done with it.

The dogs really like old sitcoms...

-- Gone to appointments that weren't appointments. (this is when people say to you, "come see me at 10:15" so you schlepp on down there to find the door locked and a sign saying 'closed due to a staff meeting)

-- Won 500 dollars at solitaire. Then lost it all.

-- Written reports on workshops and worked on program materials. Jealousy. And a self-assessment for violence. The questions are so bland -- 'Have you ever struck your partner with an object.' Somehow the words don't communicate the terrifying nature of the things I've heard in the workshops...

-- This morning I wrapped Ian's birthday presents. In the absence of wrapping paper I used tinfoil. In my half asleep state, I wrapped an empty graphics card box that was in the bottom of Miguel's closet, thinking that it was something he'd bought for Ian.

-- Cleaned the workshop rooms. It's a very quiet building when I'm the only one in it.

-- Went to a meeting for the shelter. This was actually fun, we laughed a lot. Not sure the co-ordinator appreciated that, though... I really like the other women who work for the shelter, they say what they think.

-- Started organizing fundraising efforts for the shelter. (hence the appointments that weren't appointments.

-- Went down and put my name on the 'casual list'. Have been told there's probably a week of work for me next week doing filing for the government.

-- Taking care of my bonsai potato. (yup, yup)

-- Finished the book of Kingsley Amis' letters. In a way it's depressing to read all someone's letters chronologically like that. Makes life less sprawling and more... finite.

-- Eaten a lot of toast.

Further to a long-running and sometimes heated argument that the adults in this household have been dragging behind us for many years, this from Steve Maich in Macleans magazine:

Neil French, an advertising director, a Canadian, Maich calls him a "legend in the ad industry" with "more money than the Almighty himself" apparently said that women "don't make it to the top because they don't deserve to". Because, Maich paraphrases, "most are unwilling to make the personal sacrifices of time and energy required to be the boss".

Statistics tell us that women are very under-represented in the upper echelons of the workforce. And this is where we argue vociferously here at home, because statistics cannot tell us exactly why this is. Steve Maich has a theory.

"Today's working woman is presented with an inescapable dilemma: if you sacrifice your family, in any way, for the sake of your career, then you're a lousy mother. If you sacrifice career for family, then you're letting down the generations of feminists who fought to give you a shot at a decent career. To deal with this impasse, modern society has served up a set of handy myths built around the idea that no sacrifice is necessary. There are 50 hours in every day. Emotional energy is limitless. And with proper planning and enough effort one can have a fabulous, lucrative career and an idyllic family life. If this balance eludes you, then you've failed, and should buy more self-help books. Anybody who dares challenge the myth is a misogynist." (the full text is here, if you're interested)

I personally think (and I'm willing to discuss, have been for years) that part of the problem lies in the question of the value of work. As far as the human race is concerned, what is worth more, really, than the capacity to reproduce? Heck, if men did it, they'd figure out a way to get paid for it. Probably set up ways to sell their offspring. EBaby, maybe. Men make the rules of the game, the rules were set many years ago: work is only important if it MAKES MONEY. The business world is set up in such a way that anyone who wants to succeed has to be able to (as men traditionally have been able to because women were holding down the fort) drop everything and go to long meetings and fly off to see clients and suppliers. If no-one's left at home to do the laundry and take care of the kids, things soon begin to fall apart... As Maich says, "we've established a system in which employers must make up for the lack of gender equality in the home."

Legal equality, as my law professor used to say, is not the same as substantive equality. Although we have every legal right to pursue high-echelon management jobs, we have choices to make. Men don't have to make these choices between work and family. No-one expects them to.

My neighbour is back from hunting. He's out in his yard throwing caribou heads around. I could hear clunking, when I was putting my coat on this morning in the hall, and when I got outside I saw he was standing on top of his shed throwing the heads, some with fur and some just kind of bloody, down onto the ground. I'll be interested to see what he does with them, looks like about a dozen. He also has a pile of furs.

From our back windows, you can see the DEW line station... In the bottom right hand corner of this picture, Jazz is rolling on her back in the snow.

Halloween. I was sitting at the dining room table working on program materials, and it began to get dark. I wondered where everyone was, they're usually home before it gets dark, then I looked at the clock and realized that it was only 3:15... The hour change has taken a bite out of the afternoon. By the time the kids were ready to go trick-or-treating, it was pitch black and frigid outside. Kirsten's friend came over, bringing the two pre-schoolers she was chaperoning, little cuties, one dressed as an owl and the other as a zebra, full body furry costumes. Joeby was very intrigued by these small animals, went and sniffed them thoroughly, which the little guys thought was hilarious.

We had a steady stream of kids at the door, we closed the inner door and stood by the front door in our parkas, and dispensed candy to probably a hundred kids. Some of them were being pulled around on sleds behind snowmobiles, others were walking in noisy groups. One tiny boy, during a lull where I had gone to sit on the couch, opened the door and barged in, yelling "Hello!" Everyone seemed in good spirits, despite the cold, and lots more said thank-you than last year in Nanaimo. The streets are usually pretty quiet here in the evenings, and it was different to see them full of kids and parents and sleds. We ran out of candy in about an hour, something we attributed to having bought it too early and eaten too much of it ourselves.

The cable is out this weekend. However, by fiddling diligently with the radio tuner I have finally found a CBC One station that is playing music tonight. I miss CBC Two, though, it was the sympathetic background to my days for seven years in Nanaimo. The station I found tonight seems to be broadcasting from somewhere East, the World at Six came on at 4 while I was cooking supper, freaked me out a little. I thought maybe I had screwed up the time change thing... I've done that before.

I got called out early this morning, to the shelter. Client was watching Coronation Street when I got there. I sat for a while thinking how strange it was to be sitting in the Arctic watching people with British accents arguing about their dramatic lives. I have been confronted with my own little preconceived notions a fair bit, here, as with my surprise when the two Inuit gentlemen came to fix my closet door and started talking about "While You Were Out"... Did I imagine they all sat around watching North of Sixty all the time or something? I can't say.

Some things I have learned since I've been here:

Lemmings look like little hamsters, and they burrow in the snow.
In a power outage here, it's darker than you can imagine.
It is possible for wind to blow so hard that you can't walk into it.
The generator that runs the town electricity is not constant, and digital clocks are rarely accurate.
"Sybo" is an insult. (but I don't know what it means)
Dried caribou is very chewy.
A 'sled' is a snowmobile. This was confusing... (What size engine does your sled have?)
The Innuinaqtun words for "I'm fine" (in response to How Are You?) sound a lot like "Not so much tuna."
My daughters can manage to share a room without maiming each other!!!

Ian had his birthday party today. Five 12-yr-old boys playing poker and watching movies and eating. I made a cake and caramel corn, we provided them with chips and pop and let them get on with it. (I typed 'pot' in there, had to change it, that's a very different type of party...) Tonight I'm just sitting and enjoying the quiet. Ahhh. It is minus 31. My neighbour (mentioned the other day) is camping in his TENT out on the tundra.

Time changes tonight. The sun doesn't get very high in the sky during the day now. It travels horizontally, even at noon today it was in such a position that I expected it to be setting, but it kept moving along the horizon until about 4 pm. I guess since it's been so cloudy the last few weeks I didn't notice.

I'm still trying not to smoke. As I don't smoke in the house, my wanting to be on the porch in my parka is not strong.

I woke up in the night to the sound of the wind. Miguel has been in Iqaluit all week (hence the lack of additions to this log, he took my laptop) and was due to fly back this afternoon. When I went outside with the dogs this morning, the wind was whipping snow down the street and the clouds were ominous and seemed close enough to touch on tiptoes. This is a hazard of travel in the Arctic -- having reservations does not guarantee that you will be flying anywhere, even in October. Conveniently, however, the cloud cover lifted during the morning, and his plane came in.

He brought A&W, at Rachel's request, and donuts... mmm donuts.

My neighbour is gearing up to go hunting. He's got his sleds out, and tonight he's putting up his tent, a large white army-looking structure. I've heard he's an excellent hunter. The caribou are migrating.

An emotional week. The group of women in this program are amazing, they've had such hard lives in many ways, but they can still maintain hope and humour. I am very privileged to get to work with them.

The continuing process of settling in... We voice our regrets, the things we miss. The Wallace and Gromit movie is opening "everywhere", says the tv. Mmm. Not here. The librarian is out of town, so the library is closed. I miss coffee that is made by someone else, and a store that sells Mars bars at midnight when I'm craving. I miss my friend Jane, and bookstores. Email is good, but getting together to eat licorice and talk all afternoon would be better. Ordering books on the net is fun, but you can't browse as easily. I miss my mum and dad.

The sea is frozen now, and everyone's buzzing around on snowmobiles. The programs I'm helping with are going well, school is good for the kids, Miguel likes his job. The snow is fun, it drifts around alarmingly when the wind blows. One of the neighbours said that with us being on the edge of town, when there's a really big blow there will be 15 foot drifts in the road.

Some things save my sanity: Macleans magazine in the mail, really good cable, having brought the breadmaker, the friendliness and incredible sense of humour of everyone who lives here, sunrises like Monet paintings, the quiet of this snow desert, Miguel's support during my growing pains in my new occupation, phone calls and letters from friends, the internet.

Also, recently, a big book of Kingsley Amis' letters, and the revelation that he has shares my objections to Henry James... "I find the trouble is that he can't tell a story, and can't gather his observations, some of which I don't mind, round any central idea. These enormous wodges of undramatised family-background, she-was-a-woman-who, he-had-first-been-attracted-to-his-present-profession-when-travelling-to balls confound me and make me not want to have any more. I find he gives me more information about what he is telling me about than I care to have..." Yup, that's what I think too. Plus he uses the word "vague" too much, which may be telling in itself. I can back this up, if anyone cares to play:
Here...

we find this classic passage:

"She heard no knock, but at the time the darkness began vaguely to grow grey she started up from her pillow as abruptly as if she had received a summons. It seemed to her for an instant that he was standing there—a vague, hovering figure in the vagueness of the room. She stared a moment; she saw his white face—his kind eyes; then she saw there was nothing. She was not afraid; she was only sure. She quitted the place and in her certainty passed through dark corridors and down a flight of oaken steps that shone in the vague light of a hall-window."

Yeah, yeah, I know. English degree worth all that, etc... (but seriously, 'the vagueness of the room'? sheesh.)

It's cold. Minus 23 today. The days are drawing in, it's light at 8 am and dark at 6 pm, but by November 30th it will be dark all the time. The sun won't come up again until the 11th of January. And then, according to those who have been gleefully telling me this, it will come up above the horizon at noon, and then promptly set again ten minutes later. Stuff to look forward to.

We had turkey dinner yesterday, courtesy of foodmail. I discovered that our oven is smaller here, and the enormous turkey only just fit in it. But it cooked beautifully and we've got masses of leftovers. Last night Rachel and I were thinking of what to make with them: turkey waffles, turkey smoothies, turkey cheesecake, turkey oatmeal, turkey-and-custard... But we did pretty good, for where we are, I made stuffing with our own bread, we got cranberry sauce, and although the only potatoes available were tiny they roasted up nice.

Our parkas are all here, and just in time. Mark's Work Wearhouse in Yellowknife managed to get them to us in three days, and so we're all warm when we venture outside now. The locals have been muttering darkly about frostbite, looking at what we were wearing.

It continues to snow. Big lazy flakes, and the sky is the colour of coffee with cream, overhead, shading to grey at the horizon. It's hard to tell where the tundra ends and the sky begins. Miguel came home this morning with a parka for me that he found on sale at the hardware store. I will be warm. Yesterday it was minus 20 with the windchill...

A co-worker of Miguel's has offered to take him hunting for caribou tomorrow. He can't actually shoot anything, but he's interested to go watch. I'm on call for the shelter this weekend, so I'm sticking close to home.

I went down yesterday to pick up the keys to the shelter, and ended up sitting in the reception area of the centre for half an hour, waiting for the family violence coordinator to return from her errands. A couple of other women were waiting to see her as well, and we were gossiping with the receptionist. I continue to be amazed at how much I've been accepted, it felt very comfortable to sit and talk.

Although the last weekend I was on call I found it a bit hard to sleep, I went to sleep quite quickly last night and didn't wake until my usual time (5:30). I guess you get used to anything.

Spent yesterday filling in for the receptionist at the centre that sponsors the programs I've been helping with. Phone was the same model as at my last place of employment, and I kept having to remind myself what to say when answering the phone. The cultural differences are still a challenge, accents are hard to understand over the phone and last names are amazing... I was in charge of the Food Bank for the afternoon, and I was supposed to get names from those who came for food. They start spelling, and they don't stop til they've given you about twelve letters... I was interested to see that most of the food given out consists of the ingredients for bannock. It was an exhilarating day, in a way, I hung around in the reception area and answered the phone, bagged food in the back room for the Food Bank, chatted to clients and visitors, it's all very laid back.

Last night, to my amazement, the public library was finally open. It has been closed due to the retirement of the former librarian and a general lack of folk willing to take over. There are computers in there, and last night they were all full of hyperactive adolescent boys surfing the net. I can kind of see why it would be difficult to find staff, I can't see most librarians being willing to run the equivalent of a youth centre. However, I was there for the books, and they had a brand-new copy of Peter Robinson's last book. I now have a library card for the May Hakongak Public Library, and a book about local history. Life may be liveable, this winter. People keep shaking their head at me when I say I've only been here since the end of August, saying, "Oh, you're going to find it cold." One man said this to me yesterday and then added, "Just you wait." He even repeated it a couple of times, when I laughed.

Today I went to clean the rooms where we hold the programs. There's supposed to be a janitor, but I noticed that during the two weeks the only cleaning that was getting done was our own efforts. I inquired of my boss, and she said that there was a janitor, but he was... not reliable... My co-worker had cleaned the washroom and kitchen before he went back home, but I wanted to vacuum and wash the floors. Put the radio on and opened all the drapes, found that there was a good mop, begged a vacuum cleaner from the receptionist (at her post today) and made it all nice and clean. Very satisfying. It really is a lovely building, I feel very lucky to be working there. Although I'm technically 'off' this week, with no program until next week, I put in a full day yesterday, half a day today, I'm on call for the shelter again this weekend (get paid for that too) and I'm supposed to go in and help plan the new workshop on the weekend.

Adjusting. Kids have their moments where they talk of missing their friends, our old house, fast food. Miguel is in Yellowknife this weekend, for a meeting. Yesterday since we figured Miguel would be eating out, we talked about going out for dinner to the Lodge, and then to a movie they were showing at the school, War of the Worlds, but at the last minute Kirsten decided she didn't feel well. So I made pancakes for dinner and we watched Shrek on tv. Me and all the kids, on the couch.

Sometimes we go to the store and they don't have what we need. And if both stores don't have it, we can't get it. Cream for coffee is often in short supply. We've gotten the hang of ordering food to be sent up from Yellowknife through food mail. It's good to have fruit and vegetables again. We make our own bread. Somedays most of the bread on the shelves is moldy in the stores, or past its expiry date. My co-worker went to open a package of crackers he had bought for the workshop, and when we started eating them they tasted terrible: two years past their expiry date...

I love cleaning this house. Takes about two hours and everything's clean and tidy. Our old house was too big. And no yard work here! No car, walk to work, no remembering what day is garbage day, no inane free newspapers being delivered, no phone or door-to-door solicitors, no traffic... I can walk around the corner with the dogs and let them run free on the tundra.

The tundra is changing, taking on pockets of snow, and the lakes are frozen crunchy white. The light comes from different and ever-changing angles, the sun seems to move almost visibly in the sky and show different rocks and hollows daily. One night last week I sat on the deck and the sky was bright lime green with northern lights, it felt peaceful, sitting there, and it occurred to me (something I need reminding of periodically) that my concerns are very small, my residual anger and my worries...

Workshops go well. I am learning about a culture that gives high priority to family and kin, and struggles to exist in an encroaching world. We prayed a lot, together, something I haven't done for years, but it felt comforting. The women graduated on Friday, with tears and hugs, next is men for two weeks. I begin to see people I know around town, can't get in and out of anywhere without having to talk to someone.

A lot of emphasis in the workshops on thinking positively (but realistically) and taking one day at a time. Both messages I welcome...

This afternoon one of the workshop participants brought raw frozen char for a snack. It was quite tasty, very sweet. The other thing that happened this afternoon is that I got asked to be on call for the women's shelter for the weekend. I said yes, filled out a form, got the tour, was given the keys, and now if anyone needs to go stay at the shelter the police or social services will call me, and I'll go down and get them settled in. I think that sometime this week I passed whatever test was being given, because I have also been approached to help with youth anti-violence programs at the school and family support groups during the weeks I'm not helping with workshops. I'm hoping I can live up to their expectations...... time will tell.

And so, it snows. Big flakes blowing around. Kids are wearing parkas. The wind blows me helpfully to work in the morning, then freezes my face on the way home. At the post office today, three packages. Kurt Cobain's Journals, Micheal Palin's Himalaya and a gift from the real estate agents. This last provokes much hilarity at home, being a full set of barbecue implements.

Work is painful and beautiful at the same time. A women's group, and their lives have been unimaginably hard. Substance abuse, violence, children taken away, residential schools... and yet, they love to laugh, and to make others laugh. I realize, as always, that I am swallowing everyone's emotions and can't eat. A weekend workshop usually caused me to lose about five pounds. Don't know how much i'll lose in two weeks. Today my co-worker left me alone with the group, and we did some circle work. Lots of tears. At the end of the day he said to me, "I swear 9am was about an hour ago." I replied, "Maybe that's what tells us we're doing what we're supposed to be doing, that we don't watch the clock." I also know that compared to 12 hour days at the prison, 9-4 and going home for lunch seems like a picnic.

One of the men I worked with at the prison tried to kill himself on the weekend. And he was quite close to getting out.

Work was good. Very laid back, we spent a lot of time sitting in other people's offices, talking. Planned and organized all the materials for Monday, when a two-week women's treatment program starts. Another facilitator was supposed to be coming from Calgary to help, and I was just supposed to be observing, but she couldn't get her stuff together so she's not coming. Can't say I'm tremendously sorry.

The building I'm going to be working in looks like a shack from the outside, but turned out to be light and airy with high ceilings and lots of wood. My new co-worker and I seem to be on much the same page, we had no difficulty selecting which exercises to do. We laid all the ones we wanted out on a big table, so we could decide which order to do them in, and then there were quite a few times when he said, "Where's that..." and before he could finish I'd handed him the one he was thinking of. He said that we will do an afternoon of circle work this week, and that since the participants are all women he will sit out and let me facilitate by myself. I love circles.

Tomorrow I will have been here three weeks. Friday I start work. I've been lazy this week, hanging out at home in the peace and quiet, reading the books I got at a garage sale on the weekend. I've walked on the tundra, with the dogs, and sat with the kids after school while they talked about their days. Very laid back. Miguel and our neighbour helped the kids make a fort out back with scrap lumber.

This morning two guys from the housing department came to fix a closet door that was jamming up against the wall. They wandered in, two impassive gentlemen looking like fifty-something repairmen everywhere, in coveralls and baseball caps, and said to me, "This was supposed to be done in April, but we didn't get around to it." I chatted for a bit with one of them while the other was out in the truck looking for a hammer. He told me that it's usually winter by now... Then his partner came back in, and they fixed the closet door, and then the one I hadn't been talking to to said to me, with a straight face, "Can you just move out for 3 weeks so we can paint your house". The guy I had been talking to said, "It would be just like 'While You Were Out'.

Saturday night we went for dinner next door, with our new neighbours, and met some friends of theirs. Funny, really, we lived for seven years in the same house in Nanaimo, and I never set foot in any of the neighbours' houses. It was fun, lots of kids, and they told us stories about travelling in the Arctic and trying to come to terms with life up here. One of the men told a story about staying in a hotel in a small community, he's a lawyer and has to do the court circuit, and he said that the window in his room was broken, and the room was about 5 degrees. So he took all the bedding off the bed he wasn't trying to sleep in (fully dressed) and stuffed it into the window, which raised the temperature enough for him to sleep. He was funny when he told it, and Miguel said to him, "You seem so calm about this," and he replied, "Well, I wasn't at the time..."

My parents are dealing relatively well with this. It's not the first time we've lived a fair distance from them, and we've been talking on the phone. I feel released from their expectations about my life... they had, while we lived in Nanaimo, a habit of dropping in on the weekends and criticizing my housekeeping, yard maintenance, the behaviour of my children, etc. As I think I've mentioned before here, I'm not much of a housekeeper, and over the last few years while I've been working/volunteering/going to school it has been almost impossible to maintain any sort of standards. This year I didn't even plant a garden, as I was dealing with final exams and then we went to England, and after that working a lot on the Celtic Music Festival, and it didn't happen. They had plenty to say about my lack of ambition. Which I find a bit strange, as it's only since all of us left home that they themselves did any gardening. It's as if they think everyone has as much time as they do... While Kirsten and Rachel and I were staying with them, before we left Nanaimo, they harassed the girls almost unmercifully, calling them lazy and stupid and ungrateful. At one point, while we were eating breakfast, my father started saying, belligerently, that Rachel and Kirsten weren't worth cooking for because they were unappreciative, and I got up and left the table, quite abruptly. They must have known I was upset, but nothing was said. I've always found it much easier to deal with them in a phone relationship...........

We saw the northern lights a couple of nights ago, while we were sitting on the porch after midnight. Beautiful ethereal green ribbons. Miguel and Rachel went out to Mount Pelly to fish yesterday, and Rachel caught a lake trout. She's pretty happy about that.