Ongoing Adventures in Semi-Conciousness

 It's amazing how a certain some thing along the way, a curve in the road, the look of a particular stretch of highway can initiate a memory. 

I was driving from work to the Eaton Centre today. And then back. And I took a certain route that took me straight through the neighborhood my dad used to work in, right past the K-8 inner-city public school where he spent the better part of my life working - 16 years. And I instantly remembered something I hadn't thought of in years. Maybe once or twice a year we would ask my dad, "Can I come to school with you," and he'd say yes. I don't remember him ever saying no. But we didn't go that much. So somehow, my brother and I asked little enough that it wasn't something that ever needed to be discussed much. Little enough that it was a special day for sure. My dad would pull us out of school, and we'd get to get up with him when it was still dark out. He would make us a piece of toast or two while he drank his coffee. Not like Mom who would make toast but also cereal or eggo's and oh my god, my mom let us eat pizza pops for breakfast. And then we'd take the GO train together into the city. Sometimes people knew him and I thought that was great. This was back in the day when teachers had to wear cufflinks and ties. He'd leave you alone in the woodshop while he went and grabbed whatever group of unruly 12 and 13 year olds he was expanding the polytechnical skills of. And I'd get nervous, because I would be the center of attention if only for a moment. But the kids were always super nice to me, and they liked my dad. And you got to have a special lunch together at the Berkley Bistro, just the two of you. And there it was, still in business.

The drive between Trafalgar Road in Oakville and the studio where I work, or vice versa. Specifically in rush hour traffic. Certain landmarks... I can't help but be reminded of a certain day or a certain moment during that year where I made the commute, my first year and my current job, my first career. Because that was where i was when I had a conversation on the phone, or had heard a serious piece of news on the radio, or been stuck in this stretch for a very long time that day the produce truck rolled heading eastbound. I think about how scared I was some days, or how angry. How late it was some nights, or how early. It was during that first year after mom had passed away, when I was still trying to figure out how to be independent and really just how to operate. It makes me think of the apartment I shared with Justin on Speers Road, big and bright and very high up. With the fireplace and bright yellow walls. It makes me remember that while we weren't right for eachother, Justin did an incredible job of creating a home for me. And that while there are some days and nights that year that I'd really rather not remember, we stayed as long as we did because we had great friends and a great view.

In a week or so, I'll get up at 6 (if I have not been too excited to sleep) and have a shower. And I'll have a slightly-bigger-than-normal purse all packed with my passport and my cell phone and a folder with laser printed maps and emails, with flight numbers and phone numbers. I'll make a big mug of tea and tidy up my place one last time before settling into the drivers seat and heading up Bathurst, west on Eglinton, up the Allen, and up and around the top of the city, and down down down all the way to the Buffalo Airport to pick up Eric. I'll listen to RadioLab and not the CBC because it's a weekday and much earlier than I normally listen to the CBC and thusly NOT The Current and something far less compelling. 

Conversely, if I'm ever out super late at night and then drive home in Toronto, I catch CBC radio one Overnight, I smile to myself and get the feeling of driving down to the Buffalo airport between 1:00 and 5:00 a.m. having not slept a wink.

And I'll be nervous and excited and maybe, even literally, squeal. Because I'll get to be loved like crazy for a few days or a week or a few weeks or whatever, and have hugs, because while Eric and I have a lot going for us, hugs are not in our 'strengths' column. And because I have never had fun in my life the way that I do when I'm with him, and it's his birthday. But as I see all the familiar landmarks I'll inevitably be remembering other drives. The skyway bridge over Hamilton. The ugly shipwreck. That restaurant (greek or something) that I've always been thinking of trying, you know, the one right on the lake off the 420. And I'll be thinking about times when the bag I was bringing was much bigger, times when it's been very snowy, very risky, very late, or a 2:00 a.m. time with my gullet full of cauterized stitches and my purse full of percocet. But these drives, when I'm excited and nervous and have been counting the hours for days and just ready to burst - these are probably some of my most happy times. Sometimes I'm bringing someone home to share my world with, to contaminate my normal with extraordinary. Sometimes I'm off to visit somewhere I've never been, or somewhere that's become as familiar and comfortable to me as a cottage, where someone who cares for me immensely will take the greatest of care of me. Before we meet the possibilities are endless, and I enjoy the feeling of not worrying about how much time we have left.

But that drive home... while it is occasionally unpleasant (about 33% of the time) it reminds me of something else altogether. August has always been a really funny month for me. It's my favourite as far as weather goes (September a close second) and the month as a child during which I was always happiest. Simple: August = camp, cottage, cousins. But I always had a really, really hard time coming home from our place in New Hampshire. I didn't connect with that part of my family often and when we did, I always felt such a strong sense of protection and belonging. I still do. And we had so much fun. We still do! I often cried on our way down the mountain, or up the dirt road from the lake. Still do that too! And I feel like crap all the way home because if I'm seeing these things, Bennington VT, Schnectady and Troy, Bob's Big Boy, then summer is definitely over.

But then you'd kind of resign to it. The day would wear on and on and on and after 7 hours, no matter what, you'd be totally ready to be home. You'd remember the cat, and the television, and the food you were used to, and the bed you hadn't slept in in a month. And you'd remember that you were kind of okay with going back to school cause you were 9, and had friends, or were starting juniour high. And for me, this always used to happen around the time you'd cross the Lewiston Bridge back to Canada. It's always late, and hot, the border guard is always cranky and you always have something to do tomorrow. But the look of that bridge heading north, and the border guards, they always bring me back to those long drives with my family and getting excited to see my hometown after sometimes six weeks away. Lying on my back on top of my sleeping bag across the bench seat of the Dodge Caravan, watching the way the light from the street lamps made shadows that pivoted and stretched as we drove home.

I have been lucky enough to have a few Totally Perfect Moments© in the last few months or so. I have never stopped having them, but they've been frequent in the last few months. I had one on Christmas Eve, driving up to my dad's place. Having just found a totally appropriate gift at Starbucks, while treating myself (I NEVER buy expensive coffee) to a huge choclatey coffee-y thing, an drinking it and listening to Otis Redding and encountering no traffic on the completely new-snow white drive to my dad's place, to spend a profoundly peaceful and simple evening with my closest family.

I had it in West Palm in February, for just half an instant - floating on my back in the beautiful pool at Will Shriver's place around midnight on a warm night, and noticing there was a ring around the moon.

I had it during the third at the Raptors playoff game, before they lost it. Just the right amount of stoned to be thrilled with the colours and the noise, and focused enough to remain involved. Just looking around at the thousands of people, all in red and white and focusing incredible amounts of emotion on to someone during a free through, all suddenly (mostly) wanting the same thing - realizing that as humans, we collectively do some very bizarre things sometimes.

And now they come faster.

I had it a week after that, on one of the first warm nights of the year. The days were getting so long, and I managed to get my shit together enough to remember to bring my rollerblades with me to the studio. And I skated all the way out to where the path ends, along the beaches, and came back again. The sun was just about to really go down, long, hot, hard light, and the beach and boardwalk were totally packed with people. Families and runners and couples and dogs all over the beach, volleyball teams not quite ready to quit yet. And everyone was happy. We had the most snow in like a bazillion years this winter, the second largest recorded snowfall ever. People were starting to lose it, I swear to you. I certainly was thinking about it and feeling so happy to have the warmth back, I felt connected to everyone there because I think they were all thinking about it as well.

And then just a few weeks later, I had many in Arizona: riding half-drunk through a dimly lit (light laws), cookie-cutter, mayonnaise coloured subdivision to pool hop on a hot night in my bare feet. Reaching the Robber's Roost easily in Sedona after being terrified I might not be able to hack the hike with all the gear, fresh off scaling around the most precarious climbing situation I'd ever encountered (adrenaline), to discover a perfect sunset. Sleeping on a hot rock by a cool river, in the shade of something at least 30 miles from anything.

And two weeks later, today, first significant period of time to myself in five days or so, forecast of thunderstorm but actually bright sun and lots of thick white clouds. Internal alarm clock functioning beautifully all of the sudden, up in time to throw on shorts and a tank top (because it's 22 degrees out) and get the bike my upstairs neighbor left me, the shitty old racing bike that is just somehow totally appropriate, out of the basement. Far more gracefully than I did when I last did this a week ago. Right music, right temperature, right route. Right song while on the right road, bright sun through huge patchy maple trees, a good buzz, fresh eggs waiting at home, and the pièce de résistance: a slight breeze and a huge shower of glittery green maple keys. The sudden recollection that I actually do live in a beautiful neighborhood in a beautiful city. And it's almost summer.

So the thing I'm learning about being single is that you tend to get let down an awful lot.

1. The best moments - the ones that leave behind the sweetest memories - are usually free.
2. A clear conscience and a resolved mind yield the most peaceful sleep.
3. Saying "yes" to the things you fear out of self-doubt or pessimism is the only way to avoid regret - and the shortest route to true joy. Be brave. Try everything.
4. The greatest gift you can give someone is your undivided attention.
5. You can choose the life you want. All things are possible.

01. Where did you begin 2007? We talked about this last night... and couldn't even remember. We imagined at home, relaxing.

02. What did you do in 2007 that you'd never done before? Met online friends and had it be a positive experience, made pre-emptive maintenance repairs on my car, asked for and got a big raise, lost lots of weight, didn't get a single parking or traffic ticket, paid all my bills, bought a laptop, listened to NPR, listened to podcasts, traded pharmaceuticals for vitamins and the mighty herb, applied for and got my own passport, went on vacation alone, ran a 12 minute mile, drank responsibly (mostly), got fall-down drunk with my cousins, crewed on a racing sailboat.

03. Did you keep your new year's resolutions, and will you make more for next year? I don't believe in New Year's Resolutions. I continue along my previously set paths towards many personal and professional goals.

04. Were you in school (any time this year)? I thought about it and tried. The money wasn't there. Maybe next year.

05. Did anyone close to you give birth? Yes, but I can't remember who.

06. Any new additions to your family? Uhhhh.... not that I can think of? Deb!

07. Did anyone close to you die? No, thank god.

08. Did you know anybody who got married? Katie Roebuck married Steve Hess (I think that happened) and Ginny got married too. Alex and Marian both got engaged.

09. What countries did you visit? USA, Mexico.

10. How did you earn your money? Same old same old - commissions this year though, and they made a huge difference in my life.

11. Where did most of your money go? The mortgage. The credit card debt. My new computer. Gym membership.

12. Did you have any encounters with the police? Not until they gave me the third degree on College on December 19th.

13. What would you like to have in 2008 that you lacked in 2007? Nice clothes. Small thighs.

14. What date from 2007 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? My brain doesn't really work that way.

15. What was your biggest achievement of the year? Getting a good raise and going on great vacations with the money.

16. What was your biggest failure? Restlessness/Rutt-i-ness at work. A lack of resolve in the early months as it pertains to excercise.

17. Did you suffer illness or injury? Just getting poisoned in the Cancun airport! But that did require a visit to Emerge, so it counts.

18. Where did you go on holidays/vacation? A week in Playa del Carmen, Justin's parents cottage on Paudash Lake, to the cottage in New Hampshire, and to West Palm Beach to visit Justin.

19. What was the best thing you bought? My laptop.

20. Whose behaviour merited celebration? Justin's hard work and perseverance at the course this year.

21. Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed? Justin's, at times, my own, Mr. and Mrs. Big

22. What did you get really, really, really excited about? New Hampshire, for sure. A week off and so much family. West Palm, too. I got very happily excited for Christmas this year.

23. Did you move anywhere? Hells no.

24. Where do you live now? In our nest in Forest Hill, still.

25. What song will always remind you of 2007? Rihanna's Umbrella

26. Compared to this time last year, are you:
a) Happier or sadder? Happier and stronger.
b) Thinner or fatter? 30 pounds thinner.
c) Richer or poorer? Richer.

27. What do you wish you'd done more of? Working out (because it feels good), swimming, reading.

28. What do you wish you'd done less of? Worrying about money. Eating garbage. Fighting with Justin.

29. How will you be spending Christmas? I spent Christmas Eve with my dad drinking a bottle of good wine, eating good cheese, and watching a Musical, as is now the tradition. At his quiet but ugly house in the country.

30. What do you want for Christmas? I just wanted to get down to West Palm to be with Justin, and to see my family, and I got that. Plus some stellar cooking pots.

31. Where are you spending New Year's? Sigh. On the beach, sitting in the saint, drinking wine and smoking a nice joint and watching huge and beautiful fireworks go off on either side of us.

32. Did you fall in love in 2007? I stayed in love.

33. How many one-night stands? None.

34. What was your favourite TV program? I triple love Weeds.

35. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year? Hmm.

36. What was the best book you read? Oh jeez. I read so little this year. Probably Freakonomics.

37. What was your greatest musical discovery? Either being late to the party on Arcade Fire, or Mika. Amy Winehouse. Lily Allen

38. What did you want and get? More time at home, free time.

39. What was your favourite film of this year? I loved Superbad. I loved Pan's Labyrinth. American Gangster. Oh! No, it's Ratatouille for sure.

40. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you? I... I can't remember! No, no I can! We went to the Milton County Fair, and saw a demolition derby and road carnival rides. It was fabulous.

41. What would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? Getting to go surfing in Morocco as planned.

42. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2007? No make-up. More casual and comfortable then I wanted to. But ten times better then ever when I went out.

43. What kept you sane? Learning to cook myself healthy and delicious food, and lots and lots of excercise. A joint every night around 8 or 9.

44. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? Tina Fey, Mary-Louise Parker.

45. What concerts/shows did you go to? Bob Dylan. The Foo Fighters. Neil Young. Dave Brubeck.

46. Did you see any live sporting events? Not that I can recall.

47. What political issue stirred you the most? Blackwater, Abu Ghraib, Wal-mart, gay marriage/adoption rights

48. What has been your favourite moment? Probably one of many moments, wedged between Justin and Nick and all my boys at the Orbit Room, high as kites, drinking free tequila, and swaying to Leroy's sweet voice.

49. What was your best month? August, for sure. Crewing on Bangalore on Tuesdays, unbeatable weather, beach weekends, hot nights on patios, and a week in New Hampshire. Heaven.

50. Who was the best new person you met? John Sawatsky, Paul Dickinson and all his friends.

51. Who has been your best drinking buddy? I don't drink that much anymore! Nick, I suppose? If it wasn't Justin, it would be him.

52. Who did you miss? Marian and Kyla, Katie, Deb, my brother, Colin Graham, Justin, Mom, Emily...

53. Favourite night out? Paul Dickinson's "house cooling" party, dinner on the Big's at Allen's the night Justin came home, one of many many Orbit Room clusterfucks.

54. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2007: Stop worrying about the things you can't do anything about, and focus on what you can change today.

55. What's something you learned about yourself? When I set my mind to something, my will and my resolve is unshakable.

56. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year: "Relax, take it easy/For there is nothing that we can't do."

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.

When I was 17, I spend my second summer in the Abruzzo studying art at a University in a mountain village called L'Aquila. Just like the previous year, I was living in a tiny little room and had no license and no car. I met an Italian ex-chef, then armani-model named Mario who had a moped and this ancient little house on the edge of the village with a huge vegetable garden and spent the rest of my summer living a dream life between life drawing and oil painting classes, eating exquisite food on his terrace and seeing more of the country than I could have ever imagined from the back of a moped. He spoke a bit of English and endeavored to teach me Italian, and by the end of the summer we communicated beautifully and were completely in love and he quite expected me to stay I think, but I was starting college and I left and I we spoke once after, but never again.

Six years later, he's found me on myspace.

When we were much younger, in the middle of the summer and driving my mother insane, my father would sometimes take us on a walk. We would leave the house in the late late hours of a summer afternoon, before a 6:00 dinner, when the light comes through the trees long and yellow. At Hoch Hammer at that time of day, the warm sunlight reflects off the bark and off the wood of the cabin and off the orange pine needles covering the ground and bathes everyones faces in sparkling warm light and makes us all look and feel five years younger. In that last week of August, every year, it is my favorite time of day to be alive.

We would walk, David, him, and I, down to the bottom of Douglas, and across Pine - which is now the oldest part of Cornwall Road. It makes me feel old to say something like that. We would walk the driveway to the Humane Society, cut through the huge pet cemetary, behind the building and out to a stretch of railroad track. Far back enough was cleared and laid with gravel so that it was safe, of course, but there was no road interrupting the track.

There was (and still is) a huge CN railyard just east of that location, and this stretch of track is used for shunting cars. So if you waited long enough, something would go buy. And it might be carrying anything. Dad would put his head down and listen to see how far away the train was, and invite us to do the same. Then we'd all fish any change we had in our pockets out and lay the small coins out along the rails, and wait.

David and I always goofed around, patient at first, but dissolving quickly into riot, each trying to block the others view of where the train was coming from - Dad would have told us, having looked at the lights and explained what they meant, knowing we had not retained this information from the previous 62 excursions.  Sliding around in the gravel. Spitting contests. Pestering Dad until he set his CASIO watch to go off and play "Love me Tender". That sort of thing.

It was always fun to be the first to see or hear the train coming. It would roar by, blowing hot summer air into our faces, usually about the same time the sun set. Sometimes there would be animals in the cars. I liked that. It never occurred to me where they were going. When all the cars had gone by, we would run up to the track and pull off the nickels and pennies (once we did a loonie - an expensive experiment) off the track, now flattened, usually uniformly due to Dad's still-steady hands. They were always still warm.

We know nothing new and won't for at least a week. I don't know what to do with myself and don't know how to feel. The Bigs are being incredibly supportive and truly understanding, having seen their share of tragedy. It is taking every ounce of my being to continue living - to get up, to bathe, to go to work, to excercise, to eat. This is having an inexplicable impact on my ability to function and I feel totally crippled.

The not knowing is the hardest part, and that childish notion that somehow - what I feel or what I expect - has bearing on what is or what isn't true. Like if I hope too hard or not enough, I can somehow change what will be brought to light. This is not a cue for someone out there to try to sell me on The Secret.

David is a stone. How do you comfort a stone? Dad is paxil-numb, as he has been since I was a little girl. I am a bag of nerves, bursting into tears at one moment and on a runner's high the next. Justin is flying home this Friday.

We had a casting session last week and cast a beautiful woman. We tried to book her for the shoot today and discovered she had died over the weekend.

The world just doesn't make any sense.

My socks are wet. This is crap! I did get the slippers Emily gave me out of the storage locker when I pulled out the rest of the warmies, so I'm ready. Last night I spider-womaned around the wardrobes and pulled down the two boxes of Christmas decorations. I looked at fake trees today on the Crappy Tire website. I think I'm going to look for a pre-lit tree. I will invite Nick over for joints and bottle of wine and he can help me decorate it, because it is kind of sad to do it alone. Ikea has some AMAZING deals on ornament sets, enough to do about half a tree for 5.99! Beat that, Wal-Mart!!

I did put out a few small ornaments. I'll do it in stages.

I am having good work days now since a few kerfuffles early in the week. I don't understand why, no matter how emphatically, no matter whether it's in writing, and no matter if I say it clearly and purposefully at every single shoot: Standard turnaround time for high-resolution images is 48 hours, firm. that some of our oldest and most frequent clients continue to call and need things immediately. Why would someone get an entire annual report press ready, book the press time two weeks out, and then wait until the night before the entire run of annual reports for a billion dollar company goes to bed to think about the fact that you don't have any pictures.

They get to put on me that if I don't do what they want, they will lose their press time and waste thousands of dollars - and delay the entire project by weeks. They get to put that on my shoulders. And they do - they are very specific and tell me exactly how much money is on the line, and make it sound like I'm the bad guy because I can't take 22 portraits from raw image to retouched and press ready between 2 p.m. Monday, and 10 a.m. Tuesday. So I get to drop my entire life, work late into the evening, busting my ASS to save your bacon, because you are too stupid to listen, or read, and understand. Repeatedly.

/rant.

But that was Monday/Tuesday. The rest of this week I worked on some files for other, more intelligent clients, including a huge and complex composite for an editorial publication that was one of the most ambitious projects I've ever done, and will be a great portfolio example of how I can take three shit photographs of unrelated things, and make one beautiful two page spread. It was easier, faster, and turned out better than I expected, and went out and stayed out with no revisions and no complaints. I spend two days after delivering shit like that biting my nails and worrying it's going to boomerang, come right back at me and bite me. It's been gone for two days and was going to press tonight. So, brownie points for me.

I had an embarrassing moment tonight.

I shop at the Loblaws at Moore and Bayview, because it's never busy and they have a huge parking lot where no one ever honks or gives you the finger, and I like their jolly staff who never mix meats in my bags (even though I don't care), and pack my Green Bins for me when I can remember them. I also always go to the gym after work, and because I'm me, go in and do my shopping in my gym clothes and dirty hair. Also because I'm me, and am usually still on a Runner's High, I always ride the shopping cart around the perpetually empty aisles at high speeds, snatching the now familiarly placed items off the shelf as I go. It's just something I do because we all need a little fun in our lives, and I hate grocery shopping, and I have not had a collision yet.

So tonight, I'm riding down the aisle in my hoodie and big pink mom scarf and toque, singing along with my iPod like an idiot, when I come out of the top of the aisle, look up, and unavoidably encounter the owners of Stott Pilates, one of our BIGGEST and best clients, looking incredibly sophisticated and refined as usual, and looking at me as if I was completely nuts. These people are also two of the most important and prominent members at Justin's golf course.

I blushed deep red and immediately fumbled for ANYTHING to say, searching their faces wildly for any recognition, and I still don't know if they knew who I was. They knew they knew me, and knew they should know who I am, but I couldn't tell if they did. I WISHED I could remember if my bosses decided to invite them to Family Photo Day, because then I would have had something better to say then pointing at a display and mumbling something totally stupid about Christmas coming. (Family Photo Day is a thing we have every year, when our 10 best clients bring their families in and Mr. Big does their Christmas card pictures for free, while Mrs. Big sucks up and our favourite make-up gal fawns over them, and I get them drunk on expensive scotch while we listen to Christmas with the Rat Pack).

It was one of those moments, and I've been having them more and more, where I feel like I need to grow up a little. I try half heartedly from time to time to conduct myself with more grace, dress appropriately for my professional level, act like a little more of a lady in public so as to avoid these situations, but inevitably, I always end up where my mom ended up for most of her life - I can remember being mortified as she danced up and down the aisles, to the oldies they always played in the No Frills - feeling like it's my fucking business if I want to fly around a grocery store in my lululemons and nine foot long pink scarf, sweeping eight cans of peaches into my cart, and singing "Something to Talk About". But singing it well, at least.

Sometimes I worry that I'm so much like my dad, his sister, and my grandmother - that I'm nothing like my mom. So when I realize that there is a part of her living on in me, I tend to want to hold on to it. So maybe I'll stop trying to change it.

I have had so much to say, so many moments where I have said to myself: I need to write this in my journal, I need to get this down while it is still fresh. I really just haven't had the time. So, as best as I can remember, here is what is up:

I feel good. Really good. I can't remember the last time I felt so in control - at first it worried me, what did it mean? Did it mean I was somehow "better" on my own? I talked to Mrs. Big about it last week, and she put it all into context for me, to some degree. She told me how much more efficient and capable she feels when Mr. Big is out of town shooting, or just away for any reason - especially when the kids are gone, too. She put words to the ineffable stuff I've been going through - the spotless house, the fridge full of healthy foods, everything. She said that she finds it so much easier to do the things she knows she needs to do when she knows no one else is going to undo them. I am so happily and easily keeping the house so clean because I know it's going to stay that way until I mess it up. Justin and I had pretty incongruous work schedules, and I would often leave the house in one state, and come home to it another. It's not that I'm messy or Justin's messy or anything like that, it's just one part enthusiasm, and one part lowered traffic.

She and I had a good lunch, and decided that the feelings of stability and ownership simply have to do with the fact that I always know what to expect. I don't get any bad news when I come in the door. I don't have to coordinate my schedule with anyone else. I don't have to call when I work late. I don't have to get a call telling me he is working late.  And I agree with her explanations; they make sense. I do know, though, that these are temporary benefits. I know that all this ME ME ME, what do I want to eat, what do I want to watch, when do I want to go to bed "stuff", while totally refreshing and having it's advantages is no substitute for companionship, for support, for someone to tell everything to. I have never taken that for granted, and with good reason. I miss him so much, but he seems happy. I'll write more about their set-up tomorrow.

Thursday of last week, I drove out to my brother's new place after work and exercising. He and his girlfriend, Laura, live in the top story of an extraordinarily narrow house. I didn't get to see much of it, because we immediately all headed out for a lovely supper at an indian/neaplese restaurant. Dad paid for everything and we shared a huge variety of delicious dishes. Laura is beautiful, and incredibly intelligent. She is my age, which is strange. I was hoping for a clear explanation of who should defer to her in matters of... everything. I can't explain that any better. I hoped it would be clearer who... who would be answering to who? Who would - not look up to - but maybe? I don't know. It was just weird. He's my big brother, he is not my peer. And yet, she is. It's different. She works at St Clements, a local private prep school. She is a former classmate of Christina Markham from Camp Ouareau. She called St. Clements "the most lesbian of the prep schools", but I remembered Maggie Hidderley telling me that her school, the Linden School was the most lesbian of the prep schools, and Laura agreed whole heartedly.

She has something about her that makes me just know she is rich. She is cultured, refined. Grew up in Toronto. But she is the furthest thing from snobby, she is laid back, funny - doesn't take herself too seriously. She told a story about David that he found particularly embarrassing, we were all relaxed and laughing and his put-out expression, she rectified the situation by earnestly telling him "if he wanted he could tell the story about her having diarhea to make up for it". We had a really fun time.

She dresses better than me, but doesn't wear any make-up, and looks like she could beat up a fashion model in a fight. So could I. That is my new way of saying "normal body weight". She is healthy. The two of the deprecate each other just the right amount. He looks at her with a touching affection in his eyes I have not seen from him. He is uncontainably, unmistakably, happy. I do hope she sticks around. But David, he spoke animatedly and fondly on so many topics, things he was doing, how his friends were, things he and Laura had done.  He is as he was - actually, better - before Mum died.

I was worried about him so deeply, so completely. It broke my heart to hear about him or talk to him or see him, he was so defeated and listless and unmotivated all the time. He is like a different person, and my heart just burst with love for him as we walked back to my car. I walked with Dad to his truck after we had taken David and Laura home, and told him how lovely I thought she was. I told him how nervous I had been to meet her, wondering what she would be like, would she like me, what if I hated her? He laughed, and agreed that she was a wonderful and warm person, and exclaimed exactly what I was thinking - that he was just so happy.

Friday was fine, and after working a little late, and cutting off most of my hair, I parked my car in the distillery and started towards the Mill St. Brewery for Eric's big 2-5. As I approached, I saw two gigantic shadows under a streetlight, and was almost knocked over by Daniel's hug. They give what my friend Mikey D calls a carwash hug - they pick you up and kind of turn, so your legs sort of rock back and forth a bit. It's good to have giant family. Deb was there - I was so glad to see her and Brooke, glad Deb found the time and the energy to come all the way down. Daniel and Eric were so drunk, it was fabulous. I'm suprised Brooke didn't need to put a deposit down. The waitress was a good sport, and didn't even cut them off. It was funny being in a bar-bar with them. People give them a wide bearth, and no one asks any questions at all.

Eric was the perfect host - every time someone left, he walked them to the door, gave big hugs and big thanks for coming. Drunken thanks, but very sincere. As Brooke was getting his coat on to take him home, he remembered nothing of it, and got that Worried Eric look, convinced he had been an awful host, convinced he had not said goodbye to anyone, that everyone had just left without him getting to say thanks. He could barely believe it when I emphatically stated that he had walked every single attendee to the door, if not their car.

This was around 1, but Daniel still had legs - one thing led to another and we ended up in the club district. We got separated from the rest of the people we were with and Dan and I stood on the corner of Adelaide and Peter, waiting for twenty minutes, watching club kids run back and forth, cops on horses, cops on bikes, cops standing around looking irritated. The same Big Man phenomenon occurred, every man swung wide of Daniel, some exclaiming "that is a huge dude.... whoa." I just stood in his shadow, being reminded every few minutes why it has been so damn long since I set foot in that neighborhood.

On the way into the neighborhood, we stopped at a traffic light beside a street meat vendor. Daniel leaned out the passenger window, yelling at two guys buying dogs. They were wearing costumes with tank tops and shorts, Daniel drunkenly hollering things like "I don't wanna see that, put cher clothes on!!" There were lots of people around, and I felt terrible for these two - they took one look at him and knew they couldn't do anything about anything, and had to stand there and just take his silly, drunken abuse. "You look like such a tool, BRING ME A HOT DOG. WITH SAUERKRAUT."

I ended up cashing out my chips after we stood on the street corner for so long, I lost my drive and energy. I said goodbye and walked back to the car (sober, of course). I was propositioned no less than four times. One guy, in a zombie outfit (no makeup left though) stood next to me waiting for our pedestrian light. He swayed and leered, I just laughed, having complete confidence in my ability to control the situation. For whatever reason, though, he took that as his cue to hug me. I locked my elbow, put my hand on his chest, and held him at bay quite easily, laughing harder: "No, no.... I don't want you to touch me." He drawled on briefly, trying to convince me to take him home with me. I told him to just let this be a funny story tomorrow, and he didn't follow me.

The rest of the weekend was very peaceful, Saturday incredibly productive. I got up and cleaned the house, went grocery shopping all by my lonesome and got all the things that only I like to eat, came home and did the laundry, those types of responsible things. I rested all Sunday, cooking great meals and watching movies. I felt completely rested and ready to go back to work on Monday.

Work has been crazy this week, I'm getting home late late some nights, barely enough time to bathe, cook dinner, and hop into bed with my plate!! It is so late sometimes when I get to eating, I eat while I watch something on the laptop to wind down, it is often still after midnight by the time I finish eating. I could have more time in the evenings if I was willing to excercise less; suprise; I'm not. I'm owning that, too.

Lots more to tell, but it will wait until tomorrow.

Today was better. Last night was better. I slept right through the night and fell asleep quickly. A combination of chamomile tea, a hot shower, a joint, a little bit of chocolate, and some familiar reruns did the trick and I drifted off comfortably. Working out helped me to sleep, too. I still feel very strange. A friend once said that being away from his spouse made him "uncomfortable"; it's the right word. It's not sad, it's just emotionally awkward. But tonight I arranged dinner with my dad and brother for tomorrow, made myself a very healthy dinner and cleaned the kitchen, remembered to lock the door with a lighter heart.

Dirtbike won't sleep in the bed with me suddenly. He's sleeping in the dirty clothes basket. It's traitorous and I'm not speaking to him.

I've committed to going to my cousin Eric's birthday this Saturday. I know I will wake up that day and not feel like going. I'll have a great time once I get there, I have not seen Brooke in ages. I wonder if Daniel will be there. I hope so. I need family hugs.

Might get to meet my brother's cohabitant tomorrow at this dinner. Will at least get to see their place. At best will get to have dinner with them. If so, will immediately write a full and detailed report. My Grandmere-sense is sounding off full blast, telling me to take pictures of them, of her, of the place. I can't.

It would be a weird meal. We've done this with dad a million times, and he is always the single one.

Justin is gone for four months. I'm an absolute mess.

Justin and I, who do try (to varying degrees of success) to avoid taking ourselves too seriously, have begun to observe and agree upon a number of unspoken Rules of Domesticity. Today, we agreed upon the following:

4. The person that pays for the pizza is exempt from any future pizza reheating duties, until the pizza is gone.

The others are:

1. The person who cooked dinner is not responsible for doing the dishes.
2. The person who has to get up first the following day is the designated driver, if one is neccesscary.
3.  The last person getting into bed at night is responsible for turning off all the lights and locking the door.

I've gained ten pounds back since I got home from Mexico. I was really close to where I wanted to be, within five pounds or so. By the time we got to the cottage, it was seven, and now I've not only stopped losing, I'm gaining again.

I'm trying really hard to not to develop problems with eating. Before I went to Mexico, I couldn't eat without feeling physically ill, unless I was stoned. When I got back, I was violently ill. As soon as I got better, I wanted to eat, and now I can't stop again. I feel like if I am too hard on myself I will push myself back into bad habits and dangerous territory.

This means a lot to me, and I'm doing it for the right reasons. I don't understand how I can make myself work out five times a week, but I can't make myself stop eating. I just want to be healthy. If I can just go back to eating like I was before, I will burn through this so quickly, but for the first time since I started at this, I feel like I'm not in control. And that's been the whole appeal.

I'm trying to get back in to updating this more often. It's hard. Excercise is such a huge priority in my life these days, if I want to accomplish what I want to accomplish, it kind of has to be. Work is getting busy again as we head into what is our high-season, and by the time I hit the gym and drive home, it's usually getting close to seven or eight o'clock... and well, some of you know what my couch is like. But I'm trying to. It's nice to have all the writing to look back on after many many months, and it helps me to vent a little when I'm frustrated or sad, or brag a little when things go right.

I'm at home tonight, watching the Terry Fox Story dramatized film on CBC. I expected it to be pretty tacky, but it's actually really good. There are so many little details that make the whole story that much more incredible, that much more moving. I watched in horror as I saw the way he was treated across Quebec, and I just struggle to understand how that happened. When I think about what he did, I find it hard to imagine any more pure mission, and more noble movement. Such a humble human being. It makes it impossible to fathom a lack of support let alone acts of maliciousness. Did you know the Quebec police threw him off the freeway? The OPP gave him a full escort.

I feel this strange sense of pride watching this representation, proud of the changes occurred for him the moment he stepped onto Ontario soil. Proud of Canadians for being so proud of him, proud that we hold him up over all other figures - he was voted "greatest Canadian". I love that we chose to honor a man like him, as opposed to a military man or a political figure. A real person, who made a major major personal sacrifice. There are the unsung heroes in it, too - his best friend, who drove the van and protected him every step of the way, his family who had to let him go, knowing what he was doing was so much bigger than their love for him.

This is the preachiest thing I have ever written but this shit is really moving!!

I remember my mother telling me what it was like when he ran through Southern Ontario, that people lined both sides of Lakeshore Road and cheered and screamed as he loped down the road. I remember running down that same street every September, struggling to make it, usually coming close to last. I am a notoriously terrible runner.

Cancer is such a filthy word to me, it is one of the most powerful words I know. It's like a punch in my gut, and I hate it. That makes me feel weak, and I wonder if I started participating in more runs and events if I would feel stronger. And maybe I don't need to run, maybe I could just help, help organize, help with the media, help with some other skill I've got - like shooting the event... I dunno. Something to think about.

In any case, if this airs again, and I'm sure it will - sit and watch it. It's an incredibly moving portrait of an incredibly inspiring human being. If they took the Queen off the 20 and put him on - I'd be thrilled.

I spent most of this week laid out at home with what will go down as the worst flu I've had since we moved to the city. I managed to go the entire winter without even a hint of the sniffles, and as soon as the weather got warm, it was as if someone turned on a snot faucet that I didn't know was mounted on the back of my head. I sneezed my way through last weekend's incredible weather assuming it was just that I was developing allergies in adulthood - unfortunate, but not unexpected. But, my Sunday night I realized that antihistamines were doing nothing at all, and that my throat was feeling pretty crappy.

I spent the better part of last week draped over a humidifier with the kind of deep hacking cough that persists in short violent bursts, culminating in the violent expectoration of grayish-yellow stuff. My throat eventually followed suit, with a raging cold-sweat fever shortly behind. At the pinnacle moment, late Tuesday night I finally spat out a large amount of blood - Dr. Peachey at the clinic confirmed my immediate suspicions - I had let blood from a nosebleed run down my throat during sleep. It was incredible how dry the air seemed to me, my nose was bone dry all the time and bled frequently.

We all know how "good" a sick person I am, I fight until I'm a bag of exhaustion and disease - I push myself until I'm so run down I can't do anything for myself and then sleep for like three days straight. This was no exception, and in a minute of fever induced insanity, tried to go into work at around 3:00 p.m. on Tuesday. I convinced Mrs. Big to let me in, but she threw me out after about 20 minutes of watching me try very hard to focus my eyes on the computer screen. Mr. Big called me at home that evening and told me he appreciated my dedication, but that I'd picked a pretty good time to get sick, and that he'd subcontracted people for the week, and to STAY HOME PLEASE? OKAY. It felt very, very self-indulgent and I wasn't enjoying it very much. I hate being out of the loop as far as work is concerned.

I made it back to work on Thursday afternoon, still fighting the same cough. It's still with me, and my lungs ache. It's definitely the issue I've had at least five or six times, where fluid runs down my throat while I sleep and infects my lungs. They get torn up and are unable to heal. I usually end up prescribed two different inhalers, which make everything I eat taste like absolute shit.

I was still feeling pretty crappy yesterday, and took it easy. Justin had a lot of hours at the course this weekend, he is heading up the juniors program this year, and today was their opener. Yesterday was the day that all the vendors bring equipment to the course, and the pros work with the members on their swings and reccomend new gear for them. He enjoyed the interaction with the members, and is growing into his promotion with great enthusiasm. He is very motivated this year, and has a greatly improved relationship with his management. I've rarely seen him so self-assured and motivated, and I do so enjoy seeing him cleaned up for work again.

I felt much more like myself today, and it was bright and sunny as opposed to yesterdays mix up shower and cloud. I got up at a completely reasonable hour and watched some DS9 while I ate my breakfast and did laundry between episodes. After that, I took a lovely warm and bright walk down to the loblaws - I spent a bit of my bonus at Joe Fresh on nice long ribbed tank tops, a pair of nice khaki dress shorts, and a nice new lovely blue sweater. I got Justin a nice kelley green pique polo for 10$. I got a few groceries in that section - they had four pound flats of strawberries for 4.99! It was a nice walk home, and I was glad for the excercise. I felt awful not getting to the gym while I was sick, but I didn't gain any weight, so it's not such a big deal. But I like to try to stick with my commitments, and although it wasn't really my fault, I felt bad.

I ended my day up on the roof, having a joint and soaking up the sun for a few hours while I read and caught up on a few podcasts. The sun was again incredibly warm, but the breeze was incredible. The sun started to go down at around the same time the clouds rolled in, and it got pretty cold quite quickly. It's not summer yet. But it felt like it, so I'll go back to work refreshed and having had what I consider a pretty relaxing weekend.