Hello, Viking.

There's a woman in Trent's office, Arlene, and Trent talks about her all the time. Arlene is one of those women who seems to know something about everything. She and her husband are snowbirds, and while spending Christmas in Florida, they learned to deep-fry a turkey. Her husband used to be a Nascar mechanic, and so they told Trent how to install some sort of fuel-saving... gizmo in Grillface. And last week, Arlene discovered that, this fall, they are filming a movie about aliens that arrive on Earth in 500 A.D. and have to fight the Vikings. Don't dwell too much on the plot. The thing that you need to know is that they are casting Vikings. Fair-haired, red-bearded, enormous, klobberbonking Vikings. Here in Halifax.

So Trent and I set up a backdrop and some lights in the basement and take a hundred or so photos of ourselves. A couple of them turn out pretty good, so we photoshop them into headshots, and I fenangle us both some performance resumes (Performance History: Ghouly Doctor, Spooktacular 2001, ...). Then we take them to the film office downtown. Trent has just come out of a big meeting at the waterfront, and is looking particularly hot in his borwn Tristan & America suit. We find the film office, which is on the ground floor (i.e. half-basement) of one of those old Victorian houses at the end of Barrington Street. The ceilings are, of course, about three inches above his head. I walk in first and hand my envelope to a guy at the desk.

"This is for Outlander," I say. "We hear you're looking for Vikings. I know I'm a bit of a long shot, but he looks like a Viking."

"I should," Trent says. "It's in my genes."

It must have been Christmas and Natal Day (Halifax August holiday, folks) all in one in that film office. The two other staff members instantly stop their phone conversations and start firing questions at Trent. Will you be around in October? Will you be available? Is your phone number on your resume? The guy to whom we've handed our envelopes tries to collect himself and shuffles through Trent's resume. "Yes, everything seems to be here. Nothing left out." Boy, am I glad I remembered to include Spooktacular on his performance history. "We can't guarantee you a part in the film," he says, putting Trent's resume on the top of the pile.

"But can you please start growing your beard now?" the other woman adds quickly before we leave the office.

Of course, nothing is set. I know that. But I can't help but feel that things went very differently from the Brad Pitt Jesse James film that Trent and our old neighbours Greg, Nadine and Garry went to audition for in Edmonton. For one thing, we didn't end up drinking mimosas at 9 in the morning instead of auditioning. That's promising, isn't it?

Green Drinks... They Get You Every Time!

Or so my friend Tannaya says. You see, when Brad and Toni were down, they met Tannaya and Brad fed her a green drink. It's best not to comment on the results.


This is a pic of me, Tannaya, Toni and Brad having cocktails at the Tribeca downtown. Pre-green drink.









And this is me and Toni. This is a different trip--we went for drinks after dinner one night.












Trent and Toni at the Economy Shoe Shop. A bar, not a shoe shop.











And then we started posing for the camera...

Right... about those green drinks...

This is the after picture. The guy in the centre, by the way, is a stranger. He was trying to pick Tannaya up. Don't worry--Toni had the entire dance floor keeping an eye on the situation!

I Swear, I'm in This One!

It's last Spring's edition, but they just posted it online. I'm in it. Really.

www.roommagazine.com

Clogging the Tubes in Saint John

Today, my faithful readers (and people who just found my Blog by accident), I am posting from quaint Saint John, New Brunswick, where Trent has been sent on a business trip, and I have tagged along for a lark.
Mr Phidit the Electrickal Enginerd, aka Cheese to his co-workers, sent the following video to Trent today. I appreciate the way it explains the internets in a way that we non-technical types can easily understand.

http://www.jimmyr.com/blog/Internet_a_Series_of_Tubes_193_2006.php

If that doesn't work:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6iMDRVzMfEM&mode=related&search=

And proof that it wasn't just a clever cut and paste job, the full recording:
https://my3.dal.ca/webmail/services/go.php?url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3Df99PcP0aFNE%26NR

It's Like Caffeine Withdrawal, Only Worse.

Wow. It has been an amazing summer so far. Admittedly, I've gotten next to no school work done, but I figure it's worth it (ask me again after my next meeting with my supervisor). On July 4th, Mom came to visit. She spent nearly two weeks and we had a great time touristing and taking apart our old deck. Then, right after she left Toni and Brad came for a week and we had a lot of fun. It's amazing how with some people, it's always like no time has passed. Then they left and Trent's parents came for a visit. We took them to the airport this morning, and now Colin (Drogues Colin) is in town for a family reunion, so we'll probably see him tomorrow or the next day. Then Julie, Bob and Emmet are coming in September, and Phidit just told me yesterday that he and Nancy are arriving on September 17th. I'll admit, I was a little worried about having so many visitors in succession, but it has been so nice, spending time with people that we love and that know us well enough for us to be able to just... relax. I think we are going to feel really, really lonely after Phil and Nancy leave.

But before we think about that, let's look at some pics of Mom's first visit to Nova Scotia!


Mom thought the guy on the left was hot. Quick, somebody check all the cradles!

Me and Trent drinking tea at Mahone Bay. Not caffeinated, thankyouverymuch!

On a whale-watching tour in the harbour. We didn't see any whales (boo!) but Mom did get to meet my friends Nikki and Miika.

This is why I'm not a recreational drug user

On my way to work this morning, I stopped at Second Cup for a coffee. I drink dark roast partly because I like the strong coffee taste and partly because it has less caffeine. This morning, however, they were out of dark roast when I ordered, so they gave me the top of the brew--put my cup under the drip just as the coffee started brewing. I knew as soon as I tasted it that it was strong. Really, really strong. Holy shit. I feel like a speed freak right now, I swear. I'm absolutely vibrating. I can't concentrate on anything and I think I have a headache, but I can't really tell. I just typed this entry in about 17 seconds flat. Hunt-and-peck, of course. So put out the word amond speed freaks and coke fiends that they are wasting their money. For under $2, they too can be absolutely buzzed on top-of-the-brew Second Cup coffee.

Would someone please tell the paramedics why my heart exploded?

Am I Wearing a Warning Label?

And does it say "Danger! Fragile and Prone to Meltdowns!"? I got an email today. It was a rejection letter from the Dalhousie Review, telling me that they've decided not to print "Flag Man." Rejection letters are not new to me. After nearly eight years of submitting my stuff to various magazines and publishers, I think the score is 2 acceptances to 50 or so rejections by now, and while each one feels like a kick to the gut, I've gotta say, I'm pretty used to them. (A sane person would have given up by now.) However, I'm pretty sure that my personal reaction to disppointment isn't exactly public knowledge--which is what makes this particular letter so weird. Here is a sample of the email:

I hope this rejection isn't too discouraging to you. Rejection by journals is something that every writer has had plenty of experience with. /The Dalhousie Review/ rejects somewhere around 95% of what we receive, and this rate isn't unusual among journals. Authors looking for publication just must, unfortunately, become inured to rejection, and keep trying.

Um... have they got me mixed up with some other Rebecca Babcock who goes postal every time rejection rears its ugly head? Or have I somehow earned a local reputation for being dangerously unstable? Perhaps I should point out now that this wasn't a form letter; in fact, he discusses at length the rejection process and the reasons they've rejected my story (if it were a Jackie Chan movie, the kung-fu hit sounds would have blown your speakers by now).
So. I gotta ask you guys (yeah, all both of you, my loyal readers): are you spreading dirty rumours about my emotional stability?

(No rah-rah comments allowed, please--I've got a cavity that needs filling already. Only cynical commentary on the publishing world and this weird letter in particular will be accepted.)

Toni Said I Had To.

Pretty soon, I will show you pictures of people visiting us. But for now, here's a present for you. Think of Bear when you watch #8.
http://www.homestarrunner.com/tgsmenu.html

Hitchhiker's Guide to Halifax Harbour

I told you guys about my friends Nikki and Meg and the day we hitchhiked a boat ride in the Halifax harbour a little while ago. I promised you pictures, and since I always keep my promises, here they are! (Thanks to Nikki who compulsively carries her camera. Probably because she's apt to do weird things like hitchhike boat rides... )

Here we are. Nikki is a dacer, Meg is a triathlete and I'm... a hanger-on.

These are the kind souls who pick up hitchhikers in the Halifax harbour!

Meg and me.

Me and one of the boat guys on McNab's Island. The dock is all rickety and falling apart!

Nikki on the front of the boat.

I love these girls! We had so much fun that day.

Everybody Has Their Price, I Guess

You guys know how I feel about reality television, and the Idol competition in particular. Sure, we all know that pop music is as much a product of corporate manufacturing as Microsoft computers and vinyl siding, but let's not rub our faces in it. I've always felt, though, that Canada--and Edmonton in particular--has a strong, vibrant independent arts scene, and that belief has let me feel pretty strongly that whatever cultural pabulum Corporate America (or Canada) has to feed us, there are smart and talented people who are fighting the good fight, in their own way. People like my friend Heather, who is the most amazing director/dramaturg I've ever had the pleasure of working with--and stronger performers than me can say the same. People like Tania, who is opening her own belly dance studio this fall. Other cool, talented people that I know like Scott Sharplin, Kyla Fisher, Saskia Aarts, Janaya Ellis, and Christine Sokaymoh Frederick. People that I don't know like Darren Hagen and Sheldon Elter, who pretty much make a career out of Fringe theatre. Then, the other day, I was watching TV and an ad for Canadian Idol came on, announcing this year's competitors, including Edmonton's Sheldon Elter. I figure, no way--not the Metis Mutt guy. Must be a coincidence. So I go online and, sure enough, it's him.
Granted, I don't know the guy personally. To be honest, I'm not even all that familiar with his work. For all I know, he's been dreaming of reforming 98 Degrees ever since Nick up and married Jessica. I had a pretty strong feeling up until now, though, that if I ever did meet him, there was a good chance that we could sit down and talk about what's wrong with culture production in North America today. So maybe I don't have the right to feel betrayed by what I see as an obvious sellout by the poster boy for indie arts in Alberta--but I can't help but wonder how the ticket sales for his Fringe show this summer are going to go.
So. In the spirit of Mr Elter's stint on Idol, I have mapped future career paths for each of you.
Mom: doing advertising artwork for Ritalin.
Trent: playing backup bass for Britney Spears' next Pepsi ad.
Heather: directing said ad.
Tania and Aunt Deb: developing a way of maximizing the fat-burning movements in belly dancing to incorporate them in a "Look Like Paris Hilton in 2 Easy Weeks" diet and exercise manual.
Roz: developing a bacteria that eats body fat so that the wealthy don't have to learn the belly dance exercise regime.
Toni: organizing the women in the correctional facility to perform unpaid manual labour in the production of Sheldon Elter's debut album.
Heidi: launching a subliminal ad campaign to convince Banff vagrants to do roadside advertising for the album instead of begging for change
Phidit and Brad: engineering a computer that will eliminate the need for reading--just input the titles (or just the picture of the movie version you saw on the cover if you can't remember the title) of whatever books you happened to see in the bookstore, and the computer will generate academic essays, witty party repartee and well-considered opinions for multiple situations from job interview to date to a chance conversation with the author.
That's it. That's all I got. Go forth and corporatize, my lovelies.

I Blame Nikki

In an effort to assuage the pain of my broken heart (so close! two little goals!) I'm going to tell you about my Friday adventure. I work 45 hours a week at the greenhouse this month plus, on Fridays, I TA for a summer course, not to mention all the reading I'm supposed to be doing, so I have to schedule time out. Every Friday afternoon, my friends Nikki and Meg and I meet for coffee. Last Friday, the sun came out and it was beautiful, so we had cold drinks on the waterfront. We were sitting on the wharf, about to head off home when Nikki pretends to hitch a ride on a passing boat. The guys on it laugh and keep going, but a minute later, they reappear, heading the other way. Meg says she thinks they might be stopping. Sure enough, our new friends Peter and Norm offer us a ride around the harbour. It was gorgeous! We went out to McNab's Island, past the dockyard and back. It was so fun! Nikki had her camera; I'll post some photos soon.

Was that the Bird or a Thumbs-Up?

There are now three of us in Halifax with Oilers car flags: me, Trent and the lovely English department grad secretary, Mary Beth. Most of the time, I don't even think about it--just get in my truck, pop on the flag and get going--which sometimes gets me teased at work. Whatever.
So last week, I was driving on campus to meet Nikki for a coffee. I'm on University Avenue which, while not technically a pedestrian street, tends to see more foot traffic than vehicles. This student is crossing the street in front of me, then all of a sudden he stops and starts punching the air. I'm thinking, what is this, some new pedestrian-automobile road rage that I haven't heard of yet? The guy looks really serious and he's waving his fist up in the air like he wishes it were soebody's face and finally, I realize that he's giving me some kind of uber-serious Go-Oilers-Go signal. I guess I could have honked my horn or punched the air back at him, but I was so honest-to-god relieved that he wasn't going to jump on Hana's hood and start kicking the windshield out, all I managed was a smile.

Go Oilers!

That's all. I'm not going for eloquence here.

Everybody Blog Now!

Seriously. Make a Blog. Name it something silly. Phidit, you do the Wyoming Tumbleweed Blog; Roz, you can do the Harry Potter Fan Blog or the I Just Dodged Bonerville Blog; Trent can do the Transplanted Musician Blog, Paul can do the Only 26-Year-Old in Lethbridge Blog. Aunt Deb, you make the West Coast Granola Blog, Julie and Heather can compete for World's Cutest Baby Blog, Junaid can add to the world's store of I Love Gandalf Blogs, Toni can replace the Marathon Blog with the My Husband Makes Up Words Blog (Shramp Blog for short)... you get the picture. Just Blog. Because I'm addicted. I love Blogs. I love reading other people's Blogs, I Blogging, I love reading the comments you guys put on my Blog.

My Mommy Blogs. http://esmeandron.blogspot.com/. Just some incentive for you. Also, look at what I just noticed: http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16479204&postID=112752646194116885. See, Tania is not the only one to learn that ANYONE can read your Blog! (Good story, that. Another good story is the one about the time she went on a date with and subsequently injured the guy who posted anonymously to her Blog. Geeks are fragile! Cute, but fragile.)

And they don't even issue gloves.

I got a job this week--started yesterday. I still get scholarship payments over the summer, plus I have a small summer term TAship, but partly because I was bored at home and not doing the reading I should have been (I require structure to work effectively!) and partly because we could use the extra cash, I decided to get a part-time job. Because we could survive on my summer pay if we needed to, I only applied for jobs I thought I would enjoy. So I got called for an interview at Atlantic Gardens, the biggest gardening centre in Metro (i.e. the greater Halifax area--Atlantic gardens is actually in Bedford and Sackville. Think St. Albert or Sherwood Park.) and they said that they're looking for full-time (44 hours/week) at the Sackville greenhouse. I said no thanks, I really only want part-time (no more than 30 hours in any given week, but I'd prefer less) in Bedford. She said okay, she'll get back to me the following day. I didn't hear from her for a few days, so I figure that someone else got the job. Then she called on Friday to tell me she wants me in the following day (yesterday--Saturday) for full-time up in Sackville. What do you do? I said okay, but that after June, I really, really only want part-time. Just a couple of shifts a week. Seriously. She said maybe.

I am such a freakin marshmallow.

So I start yesterday and get this--not only do they have one of those old-fashioned punch-card systems, there is a recess bell that tells us when to start, when to go on break, when to get back to work, and when to go home! I swear to god, I feel like at 5 o'clock, I should be sliding down a dinosaur's tail to my car! And my hands are all cut up from the stupid plastic plant trays. This is awesome.

Home from P-Gizzle

Yeah, that's what the UNBC students told us to call Prince George. We thought it was pretty funny. Of course, it didn't take us much to laugh at that point.
Honestly, I did spend 3 lovely days in Langley with my Aunt Deb and 5 fabulous days relaxing in Sparwood with Mom, but those 3 days in PG really, really stand out in my mind. I think it will take a while to get over it.
So, rather than repeating once again what a dodgy town Prince George is, I'm going to post some more pictures of my house. Which is practically empty right now, since Trent is on a business trip to Fort MacMurray, AB. Wow. P-Gizzle and Fort Crack. Since our move to Halifax, we visit really beautiful places, Trent and I. Here are some pictures. When you're done looking at them, call me because I'm bored and lonely.

Becca in BC

I am posting today from beautiful, metropolitan Prince Goerge, British Columbia! I've been in BC for the past week. My GSAC AGM was this weekend, and last night, we tore it up in PG. Colourful place. Maybe the less said, the better...

On an unrelated note (mainly because I didn't get back to the hotel until 4 in the morning, and I'm unable to make any reasonable, logical connections), here are some pics of the little shindig Trent and I had at the house last week. Please notice the lovely and delicate expression on my face. Don't know what Kim said, but it must have been interesting...

This one is my friend Nikki--without a doubt one of the sweetest people I've ever met. We kept teasing her about her hot shirt!

And here is Trent, very focused on being cool.

At Long Last

We finally got around to taking pictures of our house! Please don't judge us by the ugly wallpaper, carpets (we call them the Redrum carpets) or the fact that, other than the bathroom, which Trent did a beautiful job on (don't you think?) the only paint colours are white, pale peach (blech!) or the bizarre, hot pink wall next to the stairs! This first picture of the exterior of the house was taken before we moved in--we don't really have a boat in the driveway or a covered swing on the deck!

Notice the new woodstove in our living room! Yay! Notice that we haven't put away the T-Shirts that Phidit sent us from Mount Rushmore! Boo!

Okay, Blogspot is starting to get wonky. I'd better publish this post. More photos soon, I promise!

Sweatercat

Since Ozzy sheds so much and has been having problems with hairballs, we decided to get him shaved a couple of months ago. He's happy like this, but I can't help laughing every time I look at him--it looks like he's wearing a tight, grey sweater over his puffy, black fur!

Redrum...redrum

This is a picture of out television room; please notice the ugly carpet. Trent and I call it the Redrum carpet. On the left side of the picture is a wall; on the other side of this wall is the Hallway to Nowhere. The entrance to Narnia may be at the end of it... Anyway, eventually, that wall and the Redrum carpet have got to go!