Ongoing Adventures in Semi-Conciousness

With the message intact and some good penis jokes, too.

I spent most of today sleeping off the last week - in excess of 70 hours of high-stress high-tension fast-paced clusterfuckery. I had the LAST holiday party to go to last night, and passed out fully on the couch while the tv flickered all night long. I woke up at 6:00 am, stiff and disoriented and have spent the day dozing in and out and eating and resting and chatting with all the folks I just have not had time to catch up with this month.

Tomorrow I will pack for West Palm. My flight leaves at 4:00 am from Buffalo, and my father the saint, is getting me there. I have my passport, my cheap JetBlue ticket, the phone number for the cat-sitter, and a new case for my laptop. Tomorrow I will clean the house and pack. I, of course, have an extensively detailed list of things to do printed on green paper - getting a cheque for the cat sitter. Buying razorblades and bubble gum and that sort of thing.

I hesitate to mention this because I hate to be happy when people I love are sad - but I will mention it anyways because maybe it will give some hope that although life is never the same, it does get better as time goes by. It is almost the 23rd of December. I am home all by myself and I feel great. I feel happy and pleased it is Christmas. I feel warm and comfortable and excited to be in the warm embrace of my family. This time last year I was a bundle of nerves and tears and hurt. I remember hearing River on the radio as I drove home from work past all the lights, pulling over in front of a house with big frosted coloured bulbs from the seventies and just missing my mom so much I couldn't breathe. And hating everyone else who was happy and loving the holidays.

I miss her still, but this year, I am just happy. I love my tree and I have it lit every night. I love the snow and I love driving around the city, always with a big grin on as I look at all the decorations and people shopping and just feel happy. And as soon as I booked my flight to florida, I started feeling even better, confident the next week would be a joyful one full of family and fun and love. For the first time since, I'm totally enjoying Christmas. Almost like never before. I'm comforted by the season instead of being hurt by it - despite all the things that are still unknown and uncertain. It's almost as if it's brought me more strength to hope than I had before.

Christmas Eve I will head up to Dad's place to visit with Marian and Kyla and Suz and Dolf and I assume Kate too. We will all head to Orangeville to Chuck and Kath's church for carols and bell choirs. It is the first time since I was a small child that I will be in a church at Christmas. I wish it was St. Jude's. Under the darkness of night, that church has a palpable energy to me. In that church, in the darkness, it is the only time that I actually feel my faith. Or feel the place it used to be.

I'll stay over at Dad's, hopefully watching White Christmas and drinking red wine and feeling happy with a big fluffy dog on my lap. The next day, we'll go to Grandmere's to see the whole family, and then, who knows? I wish I could have a substancial amount of time to hang with my cousins, but we'll see, I suppose. Between then and four the next day, who knows, but then off to West Palm. I'll be there my noon on Boxing Day if nothing goes wrong, and hopefully asleep by the pool when the sun goes down. I am so excited. This dose of sun and warmth (and it is crazy warm down there right now) comes at just the right time, right in middle when I need it the most.

My crazy network of e-friends extends all the way down to the Sunshine State, and I am excited to get to spend time with a few stranger-friends. We're hoping to go to Disney for a day with Cait and Ed - I have not been since I was ten, and Justin, never. He's in for quite a treat. I love that place, and I never thought we'd have the money to go back. Even if it's just for one day. I'm trying to find it within myself to treat us to a night in one of their hotels. They really are something to see - the most luxurious places I've ever stayed - but I don't know. It's $200 a night, and although it is Christmas, and we are not doing gifts, there are other things we could spend the money on, I suppose. But oh - how nice would that be? Stay late, see the fireworks... I still have time to think about it. And there are lots of other cheap hotels in the area.

Poolside reading: The Eric Clapton autobiography, the Animal Man trade paperback, The World is Flat, a Douglas Coupland novel I've been trying to read for months... i want to find a borders down there and get Naomi Klein's latest... ten whole days to sit by the pool and read and swim and be relaxed. Truly perfect.

It's late, but laundry needs to be folded. I'm going to put on Scrooged or maybe A Christmas Story and get to it with a glass of wine and some of the green stuff. I love Christmas movies again! Another change! Actually, this week I saw A Charlie Brown Christmas for the first time this year! I came home after a very hard day after a very early call time, on less than 4 hours of sleep. I treated myself to a bowl of sorbet and a joint and curled up on the couch before heading off to bed - and it was on CBC. The Vince Guaraldi soundtrack is my favourite thing in the whole world to play during the holidays and it was a nice way to "hear it". Cute animation. Anyways, there is this monologue at the end, and I was so sleepy, so overwhelmed, it actually made me cry!!





Dirtbike is draped over the old iron radiator in the living room gazing at the tree. We're doing good.

Justin was home for nearly three weeks. There just wasn't the work back in Florida, we were waiting to hear more about Dave, and we just got pretty comfortable! One-income financial hell set in a few days ago, and off he went this morning. We were a bit stressed about customs, he got through just fine.

He kept me busy while he was home. We kept eachother busy. The time apart was really good for us, and he managed to fit into my new routines (we managed to fit into each others) pretty well. He came with me to a couple of parties, we did some socializing with lots of friends and some family, and it was for the most part, wonderful. Some of the things I was worried about happened - I excercised less, ate more and less healthy, the house was less tidy. But it was worth it, and I finally felt safe enough to really let go of the things inside me and start to work through them.

The first night he was home, the Bigs took us out to dinner at our favourite restaurant, Allen's on the Danforth. We met Andrea, our top make-up artist and her husband Dave, and our finance guy here at the studio, also Dave, and his wife. The eight of us were loud and stayed late, ordering scotch after scotch from the list as long as my leg. We had bison steak and scallops and all kinds of amazing stuff and laughed a lot. We got home very late, and stayed up watching movies and drinking more wine. When we were finally in bed falling asleep together, the weight of the weeks prior just hit me all at once, and I burst into tears, finally able to be comforted and finally able to just be in the shit because I knew someone was there to help me stop weeping eventually. We talked about all the things that were going on - and there was a lot - and from then on, I started to feel better.

I didn't write this before because I wasn't allowed to, and now it's moot. Justin lost his job at St. Georges. And then got it back again. It's all very complicated, but to make a long story somewhat short, Justin and the other pros are not employed by St. Georges, they are employed by the Head Pro. Which was Cameron. Cameron had a budget, and with that budget, could hire who he wanted and spend what he wanted and it didn't matter as long as he stayed under the final amount, and the course ran perfectly. No small task, but that is why Head Pros make unconscionable amounts of money. In any case, Cameron failed at this miserably, and ran the course at a major loss, going far over budget under the vague assumption that "if he did a good enough job, the board of directors wouldn't care about the hundred grand he was over target".

Obviously this wasn't the case. He went over without permission my an incredible amount, then tried to hide it, then tried to excuse it. And then he got fired. Which meant Justin and all the other pros were fired, too. A new pro would be hired, and whether or not he would retain any old St. Georges staff would be completely their perogative. Often, new Head Pros bring their own apprentices. St. G's is the number one course in Canada - any asisstant professional would jump at the chance to follow their Pro there. Justin was going to have to finish up in Florida, come home in March, and find a new job. Which was not going to be easy.

Colin was the asisstant professional at St G's, under Cameron. He got fired too, essentially, but on a long-shot (he is underexperienced and young) approached the board and asked for one year to try to turn the course around financially, and to fix the problems with Cameron's management. No one thought it would happen, but it did, and we all think it was a fabulous decision. Colin announced at a Christmas party for last year's professional staff that he was giving everyone their jobs back. Colin and Justin and I and all the important people in our lives that work at St. Gs are very close to Colin - the boys sit in my living room and dish about work non-stop and I know they have the highest regard for his work ethic and ability to run the team. He's pruning young and inexperienced free-loading part timers, and giving the hard-working, experienced, mature staff better salaries and more perks - hoping that 5 happy full timers will be able to do the work of 3 underpaid full timers, cranky from picking up the slack of others, and 5 lazy and also underpaid high schoolers, looking for any way they can to cut corners.

But this had all yet to take place, and that night, I felt like we had completely lost control of our lives. But he's got his job back, and under a better boss. So that has been fixed.

We had dinner last night with Dad, Dave and Laura. The place Dave picked ended up looking a bit shit, so he insisted we go to a different Italian place across St. Clair, which was great. Laura is so lovely, in a Burberry scarf and pearl earrings - but with a loud voice and very clever. She is wonderful and surprising. I gave Dave an extra long hug and didn't mention the tests and trials and everything because he didn't bring it up. I just tried to love him from across the table, which is what I knew I'd have to do. I was scared and Justin was supportive.

Although some tests are being done, MRIs and CTs, and although Laura's surgeon dad has pulled every string he touches, we still won't have any answers or information until as late as February. It will be hard going through the holidays in the dark, but Dad insists I should just go to Florida and be there and if anything goes wrong, I can come home. I will stay with him on Christmas Eve, I think. Play scrabble and watch It's A Wonderful Life and drink wine. I don't know who else will be staying there. I hope it's everyone. I hope I end up in a sleeping bag dogpile on the shag carpet living room floor.

And that's only 12 days away.

Tonight, back to the "me" schedule. Hour at the gym. NPR documentaries while I cook myself dinner. Glass of wine and reruns. A good long stretch and a hot shower. And sleep.

R.I.P.
Too Much House Wine

Those of us that live in apartments and small houses with limited closet space, in parts of the world with winter (yeah I'm :argh:ing at you over there...) are familiar with the annual ritual of "getting out the warmies". Most of us don't have the room to keep all our winter coats, hats, scarves, mitts and boots on hand year round, and like us, pack them away gleefully as soon as it gets about 10 degrees on a reliable basis.

I don't know whether men are naturally better at packing small spaces, or if it's just that I am bad at it, and all the men in my life have always been very good at it. I have certainly known some women who are great at it. Mr. Big's ability to condense an incredible amount of grip and lighting and camera equipment into the back of that Volvo - it never ceases to amaze me, and is second only to my own father's incredible packing abilities. In any case, arranging and hauling stuff back and forth and inside of our storage lockers is something I have had no interest or desire to do, so I have always left it to Justin to decide where things need to be down there. I went straight down to the basement when I got home. I am the type of person who finds it hard to get started once they have stopped, so once I am off to work in the morning, I try to accomplish all the chores and tasks of the day before I put my butt down when I get home, before I sit down and do exactly what it is I'm doing right now. Both lockers were relatively clean, and it was clear that the stuff could only be in the newer of the two spaces. The bins were at the back of the locker, behind an Eames chair, an eMac, three full sets of golf clubs, a lot of artwork, 12 boxes of assorted paperwork, the cat carrier, and my snowboard. I cursed him for not putting the winter stuff in the top bin, but I took it back when I found he had put my stuff at least in the top of that particular container.

I happily found (I had been doubting it) what I was primarily looking for - my arm warmers. I absolutely froze at work today, it was unacceptable. We work in a warehouse space that is necesscary, but costly and inefficient to heat. We try to keep it at a good temperature, but it is a losing battle every year. We keep the security gates closed all the time to try to keep in some of the heat, it escapes from our garage door and through the front foyer so easily. When I get cold, I tend to feel it most in my fingers and toes, so in the winter, I usually keep a set of fuzzy arm warmers in my desk. Justin got me a pair of mohair Etnies arm warmers, that have hobo fingers, which are really the best. The whole point is that my fingers freeze and cramp up, and it makes it hard to use a stylus very effectively. This way, I keep warm, but can still use the computer easily.

It's been a very mild spring, but I think we can expect things to cool down very quickly around here. It'll snow any day now.

Despite myself, I am getting excited for Christmas. It's the same mistake I've made for the last three years, giving in to all my hopes and wants and sheer love of the season, and effectively ramping myself up for weeks of unhappiness and disapointment.  I will have more cousins around though, then I have had in years, and it makes my heart warm to think of the possibility of the kind of gathering we had when we were all kids. I am planning to spend a huge chunk of time down in West Palm with Justin, adding a week onto the almost three I already get. It will be very quiet down at Seminole, and it will be a nice long visit right in the midst of our seperation. But I won't leave Toronto until I have seen all the people that are coming to visit. I'm putting my foot down on that one. And if we can all be in the same place at the same time on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day, I'll be there. And be hapy.

The last week has been pretty great. I have some pretty major projects happening at work, some pretty serious special effects that I wasn't that thrilled about attempting. My boss is good for me in the sense that he has a much grander idea of what I'm capable of doing. I am the first to push back, to put my hands up and say "Hang on a minute here, I've never tried something like this before, I'm not sure how long it's going to take me to figure this out". He always tells me I can, that he has complete confidence in my abilities, and presents a completely different timeline to me. If I think it's going to take 12 hours, he thinks it's 9. If I say 8, he says he thinks I can do it in 6. I usually end up about halfway in between, but he is always right about the fact that I can do it, and he is always setting me up to surprise myself with my skills.

Friday, especially, I started some preliminary work on a major composite I'm making for a large international publication. I kind of just threw myself into it, making it up as I went along, starting with the foundation of the image, cleaning and removing would I knew would eventually need to be removed in anticipation of other elements. That' s often the hardest part of retouching, removing something large from a photo. Because when you do, you have to re-create everything that was behind the thing. So in this case, I had to remove a woman who was taking up maybe 25 percent of the image - and re-create everything her body was covering up. So, the hardwood floor beneath her, fill in the painted patterns on the floor, the curtains behind her, everything. It was a huge task, and I only had so much source imagery to work with. It's the first time I've made my boss exclaim - he told me I was a STAR and bought me fish and chips for lunch. He is not heavy-handed with praise, it's actually really hard to get from him, so I feel really proud of this piece.

I was more focused this week than I have been in a long time. I was able to concentrate on my work more easily, stay on task longer... I don't know why. Sometimes when I have these huge composites, my mind wanders - it is hard to work on the same image for hours and hours and hours. I have started downloading NPR radio programes, specifically a program called Radio Lab, and I listen to them and learn while I work. You can also get lectures from MIT and the University of Berkley. It makes me feel good to do it, and they are very interesting.

Hallowe'en came and went without any significant fanfare for me. I didn't go to any parties or have a costume, and I didn't really care. I lent our green man some elmer's glue for his Mad Hatter costume. I love that he just raps on my window, big smile. He's such a handsome fellow, we're lucky to have him.

One thing I love doing around Christmastime is driving around to look at all the lights, but we get kind of jew-ed out  in our neighborhood. However... they all go nuts for Hallowe'en. These rich people, it's crazy. Giant inflatable motorized ghosts looming up over the rooftops, dry ice pouring out of their windowboxes, skeletons pushing their way out from heaps of dirt all over the front lawn.... because these people re-sod every year. I got to peek in some of the windows on my way home on Hallowe'en night, and a lot of the home owners seemed to have set up elaborate tables in their front hallways, decorating their entire foyers with lighting and more dry ice and lots of costumes. One lady had set up a big long banquet table in the foyer, covered with full-size candy bars of every variety, and bottles of sick-coloured green gatorade in a big bowl of ice - it was 18 degrees celcius! I saw fathers being handed snifters through the doorway as their kids in designer costumes made their way through elaborate haunted houses.

I always drive by Yonge and Davisville on my way home. Yonge and Davisville has mostly apartment and commercial highrises in the vicinity, but there are two significantly sized residential neighborhoods on either side - and every year I witness the same thing. I leave the gym around 6:30, putting me at that intersection at nearly 7, when kids are already out or making their way out. But hardworking professionals, lawyers, traders - are often, like me, just leaving work. So, at about that time, all the parents in the residential highrises bring their kids down and walk over into the residential neighborhoods, with detached houses - prime for trick or treating - just as the most hard-working business folk in the neighborhood come down and walk towards the Davisville subway station. So every year, I get to watch the traffic signals change, and see a parade of half business people in trench coats and suits and carrying their heels in a little bag - peppered by sugar high kids and toddlers in plush costumes, chased by parents in costumes of their own. I watched a man in a three piece suit trying to hold up a casual conversation with a dad in the most beautiful cat in the hat costume ever, complete with a 30" red and white striped top hat and rubber nose. These professionals practically trip all over as witches and zombies and strawberries and cats run in and out and around them, unable to contain their excitement.

I was a big ol' bag of lazy on Friday night, making a delicious dinner, filling out my calories in/calories out log, watching all the television I missed this week. Last night Paul Dickinson had a big party at his loft, which is beautiful, and right outside the theatre district. I was really, really reluctant to go, I was kind of tired, and didn't know if I could pull outgoing and charming out of the bag right now. But I went, and the party was full of incredibly intelligent individuals, from interesting places and with interesting careers in advertising, science, medicine - everything. I had a fabulous conversation with a man whose job it is to help determine how many people see any given piece of outdoor advertising in a day. I asked what his degree was in, he said Geography. I jokingly said "My god, there IS a practical application other than teaching!!" and had to emphatically tell him no, I didn't really mean it.

Paul paraded us all up the roof, red beer cups in hand, around 2 in the morning, past a calm and complacent and indulging security guard who just smiled and called him Mr. Dickinson. We had a joint, that was of course, followed by a trip to Fran's for steak and eggs, club sandwiches, BLTs, etc. Great conversation, good people. A wonderful time, and I've done my social duties for at least until next weekend, I think? I gave someone a ride home - a man who supports himself very comfortably doing nothing but travelling all over the world winning Magic card tournaments... what the hell. He was completely handsome and socially adept, just... a professional nerd. There was a 24 hour Dominion attached to the parking lot where I was parked, and he consented to quickly come in with me and grab a few things. I had planned to go out today, but when I had the opportunity to deal with it then, and then rest today, I took it. So there I was, buying extra old cheddar, pitas, and english bacon at 4:30 in the morning. The cashier, nametag: Dan (Your Man) looked exhausted and told me his day job is at Value Village.

Today's agenda consists of mostly rest and relaxation. Some reading. A walk this afternoon... maybe to the Library!

Sitting here in Avalon, looking at the pouring rain
Summertime has come and gone and everybody's home again
Closing down for the season, I found the last of the souvenirs
I can still taste the wedding cake and it's sweet after all these years

Since I was 12, I don't think I've ever gotten through one drive home from the cottage without purposely listening to that song, without staring longingly out the window as we pull out of Bristol, without getting heavy-hearted as we pass first the signs for Squam Lake and the On Golden Pond tours, then Ruggle's Mine - beautiful Bennington, Vermont flips it's meaning in my mind, it goes from being the quaint chunk of small-town America that tells me I am getting close to my most treasured place, to being a "now leaving paradise" landmark.

There is nothing so gut wrenching as leaving a desparately "summer place", a cottage town which thrives on "summer people", on one of the last days of August. No feeling is more meloncholy - I know it will be only a year until I return, but where will I be in a year? A WHOLE YEAR? On that drive home, THAT day, THAT is the farthest away I will ever be from my most beloved spot.

I will never know what it is that makes that chunk of the country so perfect for me, what makes that view and that beach and that feeling pull so strongly. It has been harder than ever this week to come back to the city, to the complexities of my life, to the noise and the people and the work. I don't know why it was so much harder this year, perhaps because we had as much family there as we'd had in years. I can hardly describe to you the peace that I felt, every single night, as I drifted off to sleep in my tent. The glow of a lantern off in the distance. The crickets, a pinecone falling off a tree, the breeze blowing a handful of water droplets onto the tarp above me. The calm that was so deep inside me, the calm of knowing everyone around me loved me and cared for me, and was only a moment away. It was like being a child again, feeling so protected and strengthened. This summer like never before, I wrapped my whole family around me and immersed myself in comfort and completedness. I slept the sleep of a better person. A person with no cares, even if for a brief time. It was heaven, and I woke up each morning rested and happy.

A week is never enough, before you can blink it is Wednesday, and then there are only two more days to do all that needs to be done. This cottage week seemed shorter than most. That Friday, that last day of sun - enjoying the sensation of that frigid water closing in on my incredibly stoned body, the extreme cold of it not unpleasant... just unique and unbelievably clean. Pushing up onto the waterlogged raft, drying too quickly in the hot sun, making the inevitable re-entry perfectly shocking and unpleasant in the most of ways. I wish the sun had never gone down. It was like my last day in Mexico, I could not stop looking at my watch, knowing the day was disappearing too fast. I floated around in the lake that Friday, growing increasingly more frightened to open my eyes - knowing each time I did the sun would be passing farther and farther over the changing hut, inevitably disappearing over that  tall white pine, leaving the sand blue and cold again.

Being up there high was an incredible experience, I know now there are a million more places to see in that state of mind, a million more experiences to appreciate and indulge in. That cold lake - I don't know what to tell you. It was something, as well, to stand in that road - all shutting off our headlamps and realizing what a thing it was to be in total darkness, how rare that was for all of us now living in the city. What a big deal it was to suddenly be silent and hear only noises of nature and noises of the earth - no cars. No music, no fans or air circulating devices, or refrigerators, or toilets filling, or computers clicking their cooling systems on or off.

I couldn't tell you what it is that has given that place such an idylic spot in my mind. It's not just the view, or the property. It's perfection and comfort certainly is a lot of it. It's simplicity and lack of amenities forces me into my sweatpants and away from the internet and my real-self just comes flooding out in this rush of emotion. It's everything I need in the best way, and nothing more. It's the warmest, most comfortable bed under a gently glowing blue pool of light, with a cool breeze flowing through. It's the darkest night and the brightest morning. It's hot tea by a warm fire, snuggled close as close as one could get to the rainstorm and never getting wet. It's delicious meals when I needed them most, it's lake-water washed hair. My skin a million times better out of the smog. Spring water. The crummy old sign at the Italian Farmhouse, the accent on the girl at the hardware store, that parking in Plymouth is free, everywhere. That their bank has a walk-up window, that the used bookstore has been there for 20 years, that there is always some clueless teenager and no good liqcour at the Newfound Grocery. That we've never even tried to get a pizza delivered, that if you ask kids what they do for fun they talk about a swimming hole, the serious attendance rates at square dances, watching 250 motorcycles go by... all of it, every iota, even the stuff I bitch about while I'm there makes it this picture perfect retreat that lasts long into my dreams, lasts long into October.

It is the hardest place to be when summer ends. It is painful there to watch the days growing shorter, because it is in it's prime for me. It signals the end of my time with everyone I hold dear. It is the hottest it will be for a year, things will only get colder from here on in - for me, at least. It is still, even in adulthood, a return to work and business and routine. Everything will be harder soon. And I've been depressed about it all week. And all this weekend. I lay on the roof, staring for ages at the thick, lush, leafy maple trees blowing in the wind, glowing a beautiful warm glow in the hot sun. Thinking of how the sun would look, beating down on the ashphalt dock at wee-bit, or coming in those many panes of glass.  Gently blowing the curtains at the head of that long dining table.

I miss all of you, so much. Already.
Only three-hundred and something days to go.

Ugh. UGH. It was a long end to the week.

Wednesday, it finally began. It's funny, we'll shoot for a month straight, three to four days a week. Just a constant stream of photography; corporate, studio portraits, promos, everything - yet no one will order a single file. And then they all need them at the same time. It kind of starts like a huge wave. At first you just hear it in the distance, you realize that in order to come through and deliver for the last two clients that called you need to start working right away and not stop until five. And then you see the wave, it gets bigger, more people start calling "by tomorrow morning, by friday, as soon as humanly possible," and you start frantically calling everyone and reminding them: "WE JUST WANTED TO REMIND YOU ALL POST-PRODUCTION REQUIRES A TWO-BUSINESS DAY TURNARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH" and then it's washing over you and you are so, completely screwed and it's too late.

I frantically photoshopped file after file, pre-press and retouching at least a hundred images with varying level of complexity while I listened to Mr. and Mrs. Big booking us for all the work they had worried for years would never come. Everyone is completely afraid to say it still, but we're going to be fine. We're making money again. The slump started to die a few months after I got there, and we are actually starting to turn down jobs because we are just too busy.

I worked non-stop from 9 - 6 or so on Wednesday, worked out, and came home. We hung out here for a while, and then headed out for Chris Connor's birthday. Chris and Nick are brothers, and two of our favourite friends. Nick started at St. George's the same time as Justin, and they have been great friends ever since. Chris is his brother, and a welcome addition to every situation. We head out to see the LMT Connection at the Orbit Room with them at least once every six weeks, and that night we went for Chris' birthday. It was an incredible show, as always. Leroy knows us all at this point, and always comes over to shake hands with the gentlemen and give me a kiss. We had reserved tables, and Nick and I had a great time, just blissed out on the banquette, listening to him play an incredible solo on Stormy Monday. Blunts off the back roof-top patio with the rest of the regulars between sets, and a good time had by all. We made a night of it, cabbed there and back and I even booked off Thursday morning.

It's such a good night out to have, and you can spend as much or as little as you like. It's 8 bucks to get in, and if that's all you want to spend, you're fine. Drinks are moderately priced, and it's enough to just sit and listen to them play. But I love it because it's an excuse for everyone to get a little bit dressed up, and to let loose in the middle of the week. The first set is usually so bluesy, but Leroy Emmanuel is probably one of the most talented local guitarists, and it just rips. The crowd is incredibly mixed, but is almost completely made up of music industry folks: producers, session musicians, the odd recording artist (while we try hard and silently in the corner to not freak the fuck out), even staff from schools like Juliard, and from as far as Detroit. Everyone else is either from the television and film industry, or with people who are. Everyone is super friendly and laid back. The second and third sets are always much more funk/motown based, and the dancing is so incredible. Anyone from out of town who comes to visit us mid-week, or like Justin's little brother, who came for his first real exposure to Toronto, gets taken and the jaws always hit the floor. I was devastated when I took Katie - Leroy was out that night. Joel Parisienne on the E3 played instead, but he is not a 65 year old black man on a '65 Gibson 335. He's a 25 year-old white boy on an organ and although he does the funk well, and can beat-box like no ones, it just doesn't have the same soul. He's pretty hot though.

So I slept in until noon, threw on some sweats and rolled myself into the office for 2:30 and it was back to the grindstone. Same story with the files, more photoshop until 9 or so. Friday was more of the same, and a bit of pre-production. Pulling together scheduling, catering, and some other elements for Monday/Tuesday's shoots. I'm still only 2 years into the industry and have adapted pretty well to the change in workload, I can step back for a minute and go "oh, THIS is the way it's supposed to be" and shift into high gear. The extra money helps. But the Bigs, oh man... they are having a tough time adjusting to it after all these years of semi-stagnation. They need to just get a housekeeper or a regular nanny or both but oh MAN. Owning a business is a full-time job on both ends, and no matter what goes wrong, it's all their responsibility. There was a fuck-up with accounting (NOT my problem) so they are both spending the weekend sorting it out. They are always choosing one over the other, (family or business) because they have such a vested interest in both, obviously. They want to spend time together and with their kids, but the business supports their family, and sadly, until we grow into more employees (which might happen soon, you local folks who are looking for some work) the onus to clean all the messes falls on them. And that is a 365 day a year job.

So I was pretty glad by the time Friday evening came around. A gal I went to college with, Keri, had contacted me and we are both pretty steeped in work right now. She's freelance, but is really good at what she does. She does a lot of long-term contracts with various photographers and has done some good travel gigs in the last year or so. She came up to our place after we both finished at around 7:30 (see, she gets the hours, too!) with a bottle of wine and a quiche (knowing our fridge was as empty as hers because honestly who has time to shop) and a plant. An awesome, beautiful plant. Kristen and Grant came up later on as well, with MORE wine, and we went through two big bottles and dished about the photo industry, from very different places. We all reminisced about school, where various people were at, etc. It was a lot of fun, and everyone took of at around 12:30, leaving us to wind down a little bit.

Justin got up at like, balls o'clock this morning to help move a set of drums (?!?) and get together with Bryan, James, and Colin. The dream team and I are heading out to see The Golden Dogs at the Horseshoe Tavern. Why is it that everywhere I go, it is from 3-8 huge guys, and me. It never fails that I am the only girl. They'll land here at the condo in about 45 minutes, make a shit-load of noise, fuck with dirtbike until he snaps, eat all our food, play all the guitars, play my piano, it will go on for three hours before they finally GET THE FUCK OUT.

I kid; they come over and my stomach always aches from laughter. James loves to get under my skin, he knows exactly what fucking bothers me. For instance stand in the corner letting each song play for twenty seconds and then skipping to the next, watching me in the kitchen struggling between wanting to scream PICK A FUCKING SONG YOU DONKEY RAPING SHIT EATER and trying very hard to be a good sport. Regardless, it seems I am forever destined to have "boys" not girls - I will always have one or two female friends, but for the most part, I am doomed to almost an exclusively male social life.

The only thing worth noting at all was that Eric Hawkins called today. We do try to stay in touch, living in the same city and all. We get together every few months, and talk every month or so about the state of the union in our relationships and work on the phone. I am so proud of him. He really loves his job, and is making good money doing it. I like Brooke too, and we always have a good time with them. She is a smart girl, and I hope things work out between them. He told me he did something stupid to help out a friend - he took a second job. He already works from like, 7 - 4, and then he started going somewhere to work from 5:30 to 12:30. He said he lasted three days, and then on the fourth day, he couldn't get out of bed. Poor Eric. He smartened up and quit the second job though, and feels much better. He was on his way up to help a buddy who had returned from a business trip to find his live-in girlfriend gone. (With his home theater equipment, I gather.) So Eric was bringing him what he needed most, beer and a subwoofer. He says Chuck is doing O.K. and that Kath hasn't "been driven totally insane yet."

There is one more thing to tell everybody, and that is about my furious anger regarding the general public being fucking retarded in their opinion towards developing countries, and what I can only write off as a lack of faith in my common sense and general intelligence level. The point is, we've planned our holiday in Jamaica, and I suppose most white middle class Canadians were told that Trench Town grew and covered the entire country in extreme amounts of crime and murder or something. And think that I need to be schooled on the "proper" way to handle yourself there, which is to lock yourself in a five star resort and not speak to anybody who isn't wearing a uniform. Which is, totally false, and even so, it's not like I didn't spend three weeks in the murder capital of the fucking WORLD.

Basically everyone we've told that we're visiting Negril has first, had no idea where or what Negril is. And they think it sounds totally awesome until we tell them it's in Jamaica, and then we are promptly told we're "stupid" or "ignorant" or "going to get shot - you're staying in a nice hotel, right?". So I've essentially stopped telling anyone where we are going, because I am really tired of parrotting to every single person "well we did a lot of research and aren't really in the habit of visiting cities we haven't learned a great deal about and it actually is much safer than Havana and yes, I DO know Dominican is really cheap and yes, you are right is pretty safe isn't that funny considering it's attached to fucking HAITI well I guess places can be in proximity to a dangerous place without being that dangerous but in your books that doesn't apply to us so we might as well just go to Bermuda where everyone is white and rich and have a mild accent because I'm far too stupid to stop myself from climbing into an unlicensed taxi and pulling out my thousands of american dollars."

To make a long story short, Negril is a lovely little town that consists of two things: tourists, and tourist industry. It's a ways away from Montego Bay, and our decision to go there was based out of a lot of discussion with my aunt (who was born there) and Justin's employer (who just moved from there). Our decision to go to Jamaica, period, was based on a few factors. They speak english, which is obviously not a requirement or something we dislike about anywhere else - but I am the type of person who starts to feel stupid and guilty when I don't speak a local language. After three days in Mexico I felt like a filthy capitalist jerk who needed to prove to all the hotel staff that I knew I wasn't any better and got all stressed out and bought a fucking phrase book and talked like an idiot for the rest of the week. Plus, I think the dialect comes out of an interesting and unique mix of European and Asian languages and that shit interests me O.K?!?!?! The food was an issue too. I know all about Cuba. I know all about their lack of spices and I will not be tricked into going to a country that will not offer me CUMIN OR HOT SAUCE WITH EVERY MEAL. We don't have a lot of money, and will be doing this on a budget. And the "budget" islands will not delight me gastronomically speaking. But Jamaica. I'm getting hungry just thinking about it. In Negril we can eat for like, 10$ a day. The last factor, was of course, price. And this made it so easy. I'm not the kind of person who needs any amount of luxury, and for less than 35$ a night per person, I think I can handle this just fine. (When I re-read this the sarcasm didn't come through. Seriously, that is the nicest looking cabin I've ever seen!) Because the accommodations (once you take BEACHES, SANDALS, COUPLES, CLUB, or RIU out of the name) are SO cheap, it's possible we might change out booking and stay for two weeks. The flight is the most expensive part, and the fact that we can subsist for about 50$ a person a day makes it extremely tempting to stay there longer. I guess if we can stop ourselves from getting into any unlicensed taxis or making eye contact, right? Morons. Get outside once in a while.

I just woke up. It's around 12:30 or so. And it's snowing. We got a bit about a month ago, but it just dusted the trees and moved on. This is coming down lightly and quickly and covering everything completely. It looks beautiful. We'll see how long it lasts. I'd like to go for a walk later, maybe we will.

I haven't updated in a really long time; I used to so often. I want to try to get better. It's nice to have the written record.

The holidays were better. The week leading up to them left me more burned out and bitter than I have ever felt in my life. I've never been so close to my breaking point. I was consistently at 60 hours a week through the month of December and totally lost my patience with it. I felt little gratitude and a lot of resentment. But we got through it, and I had two paid weeks off. It seemed to just disapear. We left for my father's place on the 23rd, and stayed with him until Christmas Day, when we went to Orangeville. We drove home that night, and our friend James arrived quite late on Boxing Day. He stayed on our couch until New Years eve, on which we stayed at home. We drove out to visit some of Justin's family on New Year's Day, and brought Justin's little brother Jamie home with us. We drove him back to London on the 5h, and stayed there until the 7th. I went back to work on the 8th.

We were never alone, nothing was ever quiet. I couldn't veg out on the couch and do what I'm doing right now - there was always someone living on it.

It was tough going back to work, but things are much slower. I'm out the door at a reasonable time, working only 9-10 hours a day instead of 15. Things are super busy still, a major change from last year, where in January we worked almost never. We have quotes going on in St. Louis, back to Halifax, and some heavy duty international stuff for a major resort hotel chain. Exciting stuff, we'll see if it comes to fruition. Our huge snowball is totally picking up some major speed - the Bigs are excited. I'm excited for them.

We didn't spend a lot or get a lot for Christmas. But I did get a nice cheque or two from grandparents. I plan on heading out and spending some of it today - iPod armband, new running shoes, new gym bag, new yoga pants. I was out on Friday night picking up some major drugs (did I mention I have the plague right now?) and found PharmaPlus selling off all their holiday gift sets at like 70% off, so I treated myself to some expensive stuff. So I shouldn't have to buy toiletries for, like a year.

I had my three-month asessment at the gym. I've lost about 16 pounds, 4% body fat, and an inch to two inches off everything. So I'm moving and doing something right. I fell off the wagon over the holidays and put on some weight, and got out of the gym, but I hit back very hard last week. I missed a day because I was sick, but I plan on going on a run this afternoon.

That's all I can really think of right now. I don't plan on moving far for a little while, just curling up with the falling snow and some delicious nightime antihistamines.

We're two days before Christmas, so of course I'm a big bag of depressed and feeling sorry for myself, but I guess that's just how it's going to be for a while, and I think I'm starting to be O.K. with all of that.

The last week of work crawled by as slowly as anything could, and by the end of the work day yesterday, I was so completely and terribly burned-out. I've been feeling burned out for about two or three weeks really. One can only work average-ish 60 hrs. a week for so long, before they start to lose their cool. I was leaving the house at 8:15 or earlier every day, and getting in between 9-10 pm. When I couldn't get to the gym, I was heading straight back out the door and along the 3 km route I've figured out for myself, sometimes so exhausted it just didn't even hurt anymore.

DID I MENTION I'VE LOST 16 FUCKING POUNDS??!?!?

A lot more work-related partying kept on going, and our annual work party was a week ago. It was such a success - from my point of view, at least - and it is always fun to bond with the people I work with on a more personal level. It's hard when one doesn't work with anyone their own age, but I like to think that I bring something fun to the lives of all these old fogeys, and that they like having me around sometimes.

This week, as I said, crawled. Mr. Big had some travel shooting to do, and mercifully spared me the trip to beautiful Barrie and Penetanguishene. Honestly, there is nothing fun about those small trips. You are there to work, and see pretty much only the inside of Hotels. Only when we are anywhere for more than a day does the fun actually start to happen. So it was a good thing I didn't have to be away, the cat would have been dead when we got back.

But being a producer on travel shoots is always a bit more complicated. How many people are going. How are they getting there. Who rents a vehicle large enough to store a 48" stand bag horizontally in the trunk? (Avis) What city can I put everyone up in so they don't have to share a bathroom, as Penentanguishene only has B&Bs? (Midland) Does my Aeroplan business Visa automatically provide auto insurance for the rental? (Yes.)

One of the ways I make sure everything gets done and stays in order is that I create a document, a large document with many pages and sections and tabs. It becomes a book, but I'm very good at laying everything out, and all the information is very easy to find. It goes with whoever on the shoot is most responsible, or the producer if there is one on set (so usually me.) So this time, that person had to be Mr. Big. This document contains literally everything to do with the shoot. Maps to all hotels, locations, and car rental facilities, a list of 3-4 star restaurants around each hotel, a list of take out places and coffee shops within five miles of each location, car rental contracts, emergency numbers for road-side assistance, each location, sub-contractor, and each client, hotel contact info, reservation numbers, layouts for the actual job, a list of all the gear that is going and which bag it's in (that's a big fucking list I tell you), the estimate for the job, the contract for the job, fill-in-the-blank contracts for extra on-set changes, it's a BIBLE for the entire job.

I've started ONLY purchasing handbags and purses that a full 8.5x11 inch binder will fit inside, because I keep it on me and me alone at all times during a job. Mr. Big is a different person and to each his own - Mr. Big chose to put it on the roof of the rental van while he was gassing up halfway up the 400 on the way to the first hotel, late night before the day of the first shoot.

Somehow (and I don't want to know how) the emergency courier beat them to Barrie, and a second copy that I printed around 8 p.m. (45 minutes after they left) was waiting there for him. (I'm good.) That one never made it home - he managed to lose that binder also, at some point before getting home on Wednesday night. He looked only mildly sheepish, and I can forgive him. Mrs. Big found it more difficult, as personal contact info of our clients and exactly what a certain government agency is paying us are now floating around the abyss somewhere.

Thursday we had a studio shoot. Good food, of course. Justin's cousin is here from England, and drove out to Toronto from his mother's place in Dundas. We went out for a pub meal at The Pour House, right near katrijn_noelle 's old co-op. Had a very mediocre scotch.

Which brings me to yesterday. Mrs. Big continued her 2-week long streak of finding a reason to not show up. But we had some last minute emergency files to deliver to the client from earlier in the week (beautiful stuff), and I had to tear down yesterday's terribly complicated set. (6 heads, four packs, 8x8 shooting surface, 9 foot umbrella, 8x8 scrim and frame, seemingly endless piles of the crap that seem to appear when you shoot finicky product stuff... 2.5 hours later!

And finally, I got my bonus. At about three p.m. I was sent to the mall to buy myself (on the company card) whatever - honestly, WHATEVER - phone I wanted, brand new. I was instructed to get everything. Case. Bluetooth headset. And to change the billing address to the studio, because for as long as I work there, they are going to pay the bill. I HAVE NOT HAD A NEW PHONE IN LIKE 6 YEARS, PEOPLE. And to get it, I've always tied myself down to some ridiculous contract length to afford it. I can be the ultimate asshole with my stupid bluetooth headset!

So that was exciting. ALSO, earlier in the week Apple put a bunch of hella cheap refurb ipods up on their website, so I've ordered a new 30gig video for 149$!!! FTW! So I'm gadgeted out.

Dad called (on mah new phone!) last night, and asked what time we were coming today. He of course, wants to work up at the train. I told him we'd show up for supper. I still haven't gotten his gift! If it's open, I'm going to pop into Deb's Home Hardware tomorrow, and have a look around. We'll be at Dad's for three days - Today, Christmas Eve, Christmas Day. We'll head into Orangeville to Chuck and Kathleen's for dinner on the 25th - all the boys will be there with their respective lover ladies, and ems of course. Hopefully, we'll have some laughs and good meal. And then head home.

I'm not back to work until the 8th of January, so I am basking in the glow of a long vacation (albeit very well deserved).

The lamp is burnin' low upon my table top
The snow is softly falling
The air is still within the silence of my room
I hear your voice softly calling
If I could only have you near
To breathe a sigh or two
I would be happy just to hold the hands I love
Upon this winter night with you

The smoke is rising in the shadows overhead
My glass is almost empty
I read again between the lines upon each page
The words of love you sent me

If I could know within my heart
That you were lonely too
I would be happy just to hold the hands I love
Upon this winter night with you

The fire is dying now, my lamp is growing dim
The shades of night are liftin'
The morning light steals across my windowpane
Where webs of snow are driftin'

If I could only have you near
To breathe a sigh or two
I would be happy just to hold the hands I love
Upon this winter night with you
And to be once again with with you

Where oh where to begin.

Work has been insane for the last few weeks, as usual. We're still riding this never-ending wave of work. It just doesn't end. We'll have a day where nothing new is coming up on the horizon, but never more than 24 hours after that, there is something new on the go. Always interesting, always exciting.

The last couple of weeks have been an equally never-ending wave of parties. But the kind of work-related party at which you must be very careful to drink just enough to be casual and un-awkward but not too much, so as to make an ass of oneself. Every ad agency has a party, every printing house has a party, every industry has it's own party. I went to a marketing awards show and afterparty at the ROM - drank good scotch under that huge T-Rex.  I went to a Unisource sponsored event at the Carlu - annual reports design/photography awards. Very un-exciting content concept, but a great party. Amazing food, free booze, some of my favourite clients - and I got to sample craploads of paper stock which is so nerdy but very fun for me. The swatch booklets get more elaborate every year. Die-cut, metalics, special custom containers - all using stunning stock photography and some of the most cutting-edge graphic design in the business. Beautiful swag (and yet another canvas tote to carry it all home in).

Regardless, it's a huge part of the business. Art directors and creative directors never hire someone they've never seen the face of - that recognition (oh yes, we met at NUARS last month) is so strangely essential. Practically every client I bumped into said something to the effect of "God, seeing you reminds me I should get you guys to quote on that new job...". This is the first year I've kind of been "trotted out" so to speak, paraded around to some degree. Mrs. Big is particularly proud of me, for some reason. She says she has a lot of fun introducing me to people, and apparently my subtle we're-not-working-but-oh-yes-we-are sales techniques are pretty spot on. Funny, I thought I was just there to get hit on my inappropriately older men and eat oysters.

Can you believe we're here at Christmas again? Third times a charm, maybe. I had a flash memory of something mom used to do. Maybe our whole family did, I can't remember. Anyways. Mom always bought these advent candles, these special tacky tapered candles that had one to twenty-four down them, staggered down a long, narrow and tall christmas tree. At the bottom of the "tree", under "24" was a big fat cartoon santa. The point is you burn them for about 30 minutes or so every night, and the "days" melt down. These were really ugly candles. I remember there were only a couple of stores in Oakville that had them: To Set a Table, and The Added Touch.

To Set a Table is gone I think, but The Added Touch is still there (albeit moved down the road). The Added Touch is ridiculous. In amongst the knick-knacks that grandmere has bought us ALL (cedar pillows, giant thermometres, lap desks, crossword puzzle kits, scissors permanently mounted inside a jar for cutting blooms underwater) are the REALLY ridiculous things like electric slippers and brick-making-kits. And the candles. I looked online for them elsewhere, no dice.

So I have an appointment in Oakville later this week (my only real excuse to make the time to get out there right now amongst all the insanity) and I will pop into the Added Touch and pick some up. Maybe if I make a point of doing something small every day to remember Mum on purpose, I'll be able to stop thinking about her all the time during the holidays. I'll trade 30 minutes of reflection for the permanent place she keeps in the back of my head constantly during December.

I can never remember whether her birthday was the 7th or the 11th. Or was it the 10th. The first time it passed, Dave and I felt awful for forgetting. But he hugged me and said "Honey, we could never remember when she was alive - and she never ever cared." And we laughed and just let it go.

Health/weight wise everything is still well. Working out is such a habit now. It's just part of my weekday routine. The only thing that is still new about it is that I'm still stunned at what a positive effect it's had on my mood and outlook. I feel fantastic when I get home. I feel lifted and proud. I feel like I've made a permanent change in my lifestyle, and I'm so happy with that. I'm looking forward to spring - I can get my cardio in the evenings by rollerblading to the beach after work, while the sun sets. I'll still have rainy days, weight trainging, and classes to keep the gym membership worth it.

It's amazing how my food tastes have really changed. If I stop eating it, I don't crave it anymore. It's hard for the first couple of weeks, but I don't miss the stuff I really can't have anymore. It's been hard at these parties to avoid eating an entire wheel of brie for dinner, but I know if I have just a bit that I won't be able to stop. But the things I love, I've been able to find healthier versions of - less fatty, sharper tasting cheeses, etc. My stomach seems to have shrunk - I can't eat as much as I used to. I'm full much faster; with actual correct serving sizes. It's amazing. And if I eat the shit now, if I have greasy stuff, I get sick. I haven't had it in months, and it hits my gut like a ton of bricks.

I suppose I should be doing before/during/after pics, but oh man did I/kinda still do hate the way my body is feeling. But it would still be fun at the end to watch my amazing shrinking ass.

Anyways. I'll try to update with a bit more frequency. These long entries are exhausting. But I can email them (the text, not a link girls - keep your pants on) to the parents and they seem to like that.

Details on the amazing models to follow - and no "real" images until we get the digital magic done. It's going to look great.

I haven't really had time to sit and write about our trip down to the cottage in New Hampshire.

It was good. It's the first long vacation I've had in a long time, and the first break Justin has had in I don't know how long. I got a good two or three weeks at Christmas - he worked straight through! It was nice to cool our jets, it any case. We don't notice how loud the city is until we get out of here. Our condo is fairly quiet considering it's on a major and is on the ground floor. But you get blasted with the bustle on your commute, when you go to the grocery store, to the library. Every time you go outside, it's a descent into this unbelievably loud metropolis that we are still getting used to.

The drive down was really good; faster than I had thought it would be. Deb is an excellent driver to follow! I ended up driving most of the way there, but that was fine. I had forgotten how beautiful the drive down through Northern Vermont is, and then through the Granite State Park. The White Mountains really are huge.

Mid afternoon was a good time to get there, really. We set up our tent and got our bed ready, our bags out of the car. I love tent camping. I wish we had something just a tiny bit bigger - dad has a 6 man that is far too big for him, I think a five would be ideal for Justin and I and the amount of stuff I like to spread out. Once we got the tarp over it we stayed dry and cozy and happy.

We had pizza dinner that night with the Ayres side of the family who are always a tsunami of... northern americans. I love them for it. Sam has grown up a lot, but still seems really immature. She had an equally immature boyfriend. Emily seemed ancient by comparison.

She's grown up a lot too. Last summer she was quite different, but a year of high school has changed her so much. She is so aware, so bright, so observant. We had some really good conversations about what she's been up too. I'm so impressed by how far she's taking kayaking in the summers, how polite and considerate she is (she offered to read aloud to me from my book on the drive home), how accurately she observes the little ticks and tricks our family has. "Have you ever noticed..." and the like. I really enjoyed having her around this summer.

Eric was Justin's shot of testosterone, and we plan on spending a lot more time together now that we're back in the city. I love Brooke, and they have a dining room table and are near the banknote!

Dad was around more than in past years, which was nice.

I read four books, I think. It was fantastic. Kate arrived and we went to the lake - Suz read from "The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime" and I was in heaven. Justin likes to work and cook and help, so Eric's inability to be idle kept him busy when he didn't feel like relaxing. I didn't get myself out of bed as early as I might have liked most days - I don't recall ever having made it down to the beach by 2 or 3, which stinks.

Some aspects of the trip were a little stressful, a little tiring.

I often get very retrospective and nostalgic when I'm there; think about our lives as kids. Was it as good as we remember it? Were we as happy as I think we were? Did we laugh as much as I think we did?

It went to fast; I was not ready to go back to work. I took the Monday off when we got home, which helped. I picked up Trevor. It was not as hot as it was on the way there, he still got car sick which sucked. I was not happy with the shelter when I picked up the cat. He was still in what I had through was a "holding" cage for when pets arrived and were "checked-in". They woman's own cat was caged next to trevor, and below them were two huge bulldogs, who could not turn around in their cages. I'm still trying to decide if I should call the SPCA. He felt thinner, was essentially in a cage outside 24 hours a day, and felt thin to me. His coat was dry and he has been scratching a lot although I don't see or detect any fleas.

We just finished doing the laundry a couple of days ago, which is sad, and it's taken me this long to get back into the swing of things at work. We're in like, eighth gear right now - pharmaceutical ads, energy drink ads, I'm producing more than ever and rigging less and less.

I'm going to Halifax next weekend, but will never be anywhere other than airport, hotel, office, hotel, airport.

I'm tired. I'm glad it's the weekend. It's good to be home. I can last until Christmas.

So things went bad, then went better, then went good.

New Years was awful. That's all I really have to say about that.

We had New Year's version 2.0 last night though, went out dancing and drinking with Justin, James, Katrijn, plus Neville and friends. It started with a very mediocre dinner, and ended with legnthy propositions about the strange drunk girl in a white mesh unitard. The things people wear out these days.

Essentially, the bar is made up to look like a big old country lodge. It's a giant log cabin with the type of fireplaces you need giant poles to roll logs into. Canoes on the walls, these types of things. It's also 2 dollar beers on Tuesdays, and they play a strange mish mash of fun retro, fun rock, and fun country. Ninety percent of the clients wear running shoes and jeans and a t-shirt. Maybe a hat. But there is always that ten percent, all girls, that wear things like... white mesh unitards. And enough perfume to choke a horse. I like getting dressed up as much as the next person, but a time and a place kids. Time and a place.

Anyways, we came home to popcorn and a horrible french horror film called "High Tension" about the world's best looking example of a woman with cropped hair (who happens to be a lesbian) whose dual personality includes an ugly 50-something man who drives a truck and cuts people up. It had more plot holes than the afghan on my couch. If you've ever seen Adaptation, with Nicholas Cage - the movie his brother is writing? THIS IS THAT FILM.

Justin took it very seriously at first, insisted it would be good. Our derogatory commentary about everything from the cinematics to the supporting character's teeth didn't go over well for the first twenty minutes, but even he had to laugh when our ginger kitty, Trevor decided to settle down a centimetre from the center of the television. The cat gave up soon - he thought the movie sucked too.

In the year 2006 I resolve to: East more paste. Get your resolution here

After only fourteen phone calls in two hours from brokers, bank managers, listing agents, buying agents, credit bureaus and much, much, more - you too can be in the largest debt of your life!

Today, at approximately 5:00 pm, Eastern Standard Time, Justin and I were joined in the holy sancity of mortgage.

In all seriousness, I am so glad I chose to get our financing for our home through DUCA. Our choices were limited, as it is a co-op, to about 4 credit unions. I don't know why only credit unions finance co-ops; I discussed it with Katrijn. She wasn't suprised at the DUTCH credit union supporting it, she feels tthat it is a highly "Dutch" philosophy to support acts of "good faith" and to support "investments" or situations where people take ownership, or extra responsibility in order to be more involved in their endeavors. I suppose that's the general philosophy of a credit union in general - and a credit union almost works exactly like a co-opertive piece of real estate. The patrons have ownership in the establishment. Tres socialist.

In any case, I'm glad we chose DUCA. They were our first choice becuase of the good experience marby & co have had with them - but they have been supremely patient and helpful with us first-time buyers. Constant revisions to our assets and liabilites as we learn "what counts" and what doesn't. Constant uncertainty about what the offer says, as we are not used to reading documents which have been through four fax machines before reaching us. Constant questions - what does that mean?!?

In the end, they've been unbelievably helpful, gave us a great rate, good advice - and a mortgage. It's not a big one by any means, but to us it's the world.

I was vague about Christmas Day, I suppose. Well, I know I was.

Christmas Eve was nice. Dad, Dave, Justin and I ordered out for some nice chinese food from the family-favourite restaurant. It's REAL asian food, because at some points, one is uncomfortable eating perfect spheres of chicken. We watched anti-holiday television. If Die Hard had been on, we would have watched it for sure. On the way home, bellies full, my car was making a hideous sound from the back rear wheel, only when accelerating. Thank god we live .2 km away, because I had NO idea what a near-flat sounded like.

Thinking of marby, on the side of a highway outside Jo'burg (murder capital of the world, on the highway with the "Elevated Hi-jacking Risk" sign) with three curious toddlers in the back - well SHE could change a tire - certainly we could, in the heated parking garage, and WE even had a spanner! She's also the only reason I knew what that do-hickey was called. Anyways, as my father later noted, stubby tiny car? Stubby tiny tools! Stubby jack! Stubby spanner! We (Justin, having used one before) got it up on the jack. I was stunned at the sheer power of the jack itself. That's amazing - who invented that?!? Physics in action! Unfortunately, there was nowhere near enough leverage on that half-foot long wrench to get the bolts loosened. We called it a night, and Dad said he would come over and help in the morning - what amazing technology would he bring?!?

Technology turned out to be a big long metal pipe that he popped on the end of the spanner to increase leverage. Multi-functional, pipes are. Leverage increasing, beating sticks... does it ever end? I was thrilled to find that not only was my "spare" identical to the rest of my tires, giving me some time before I had to get a new one, but that Dad found the object draining my tire quite easily (it was huge), he announced it could most likely be repaired for around 10-15 dollars. Hurrah for asian car manufacturers! I didn't even have to take my back seat out to get the tools out and in - they stow conveniently and efficiently in a tiny cubby in the side of my trunk!

Christmas morning itself was anti-climactic as usual. We got the annual case of wine from Dad. Justin got half a condo from me, but also Johnny Cash's autobiography. Dad got a GPS and a Geocaching book. Fun for all at the cottage this summer. Google geocaching, you'll see what I mean! Dave got a cap he's been after for years. We made the trek to Orangeville for Christmas Dinner at with the extended fam. Fun, but less so without the Schoenmakers clan. It was odd, they were in the middle of the Christmas that I really wanted to be having, but won't really have again. All the family home, piles of small but thoughtful gifts picked out by mom, everyone in their pajamas and being nice to eachother... we didn't feel like we were intruding, but I think maybe they didn't want to be having the Christmas we were missing so much right under our noses. I hope they didn't turn down their enjoyment of eachother just because we were missing Mum.

Anyways, dinner was awesome. We kids regaled eachother with new-found tales of life in the big smoke - whichever big smoke we currently live in. Of course, Dave's under-handed almost-invisible but oh-so-offensive to ONLY me were making me see festive red in only three hours, and by the time we left, I wanted to stab him. The ones who understand me on this, of course, are either on the other side of the country, or sadly, dead. Men are so oblivious. I got to talk to Katrijn briefly the next day, and I loved her so much for knowing exactly what I meant when I said he was "all straws"... knowing I meant constant comments, slowly breaking my camel back. A snowstorm broke out on the way home. We averaged 40 km, and I fell asleep with my head on Justin's knee listening to Harry Potter on my iPod and praying we wouldn't all be killed in dad's tiny little roller-skate, longing for my 4-Wheel Drive. It's tiny, but practically impossible to spin.

The next few days were peppered with family visits on Justin's side. I got the small but thoughtful and plentiful gifts from Justin's mum, of course. I love her. She knows I miss opening a stocking or unwrapping more than one thing, even if she buys every single thing from the dollar store. She bought me a magnetic notepad for the fridge - it is a die-cut photo of the ugliest cat I have ever seen. I also got chocolates and scrunchies and pajamas and things like that. She's a peach. She and Justin's dad also gave us the world's most beautiful Sunbeam stainless steel microwave. She was worried last week when I mentioned ours was leaking a lot of heat out of one side, and Justin mentioned that if I ever get pregnant in ten years, he'l have to throw himself between me and the vile beast. It's great. And clean. And made after 1975.

Other highlights were a combined 150$ in IKEA gift certificates from various aunts and uncles who know we're moving, future shop gift certificates, LCBO gift certificates... and lots of hugs and love.

By the end of it though, having worked until the 23rd, (Justin until 7 on the 24th) and him back on the 26th - we were left going... That was Christmas? We were so pumped about it, and it was kind of a letdown in terms of how little it effected us. We were discussing this last night as we sat down to The 40 yr. Old Virgin - only to have a knock on the door from my new-found old-friend neighbor and her boyfriend with more blast from the past guests. We ended up at the Queen's Head pub downtown for some beer and pub food (mmm) before all settling down to the movie together. Ginny was the blast from the past - she's an Massage Therapist and also engaged. (The neighbor, Katie, is too.) We went to bed late and happy, and woke up today rested and content and late.

So life is pretty good.

Finally, things are getting back to normal.

I managed to finish 5 washing machines of laundry last night - and folded and put them away today. So now we have clothes to wear, thank god. Not that we were naked before, but the pickings are getting slim.

Not sure what's happening over the next few weeks, socially speaking. On New Year's Eve, we are going over to our friends Mikey and Nikki's place. Mikey manages the residence over at the college, so him and Nikki live in the building manager's suite for free. Bastards. All the students are gone, and some for good, as they were one semester students. So he's set aside about five rooms, with two double beds each so they can have a huge party. I'm currently trying to organize a keg. It's a good crowd, and it'll be cheap, and relaxed, and fun. Pictures a plenty, for sure. They're calling it a Chuck Norris New Years but I don't know why.


Time for a nap, I think.