Blog Game

Mkay, I invented a Blog game. Let's play it.
When you go to post a comment to my Blog, you have to enter some letters into a little box so that spam can't get me. Sometimes, the letters form almost-words. So post a comment: copy the almost-word into the body of your comment, then make up a definition for it. I'll go first.
(Procrastinating? Who, me?)

Fences

Today's been kind of a weird one. My next-door neighbours are having a baby shower. The house is owned by Wayne and Ginny, and Andrew, their son, his wife April, and their kids all live their too. Anyhow, April is pregnant, and yesterday, Wayne mentioned that today is the baby shower, and did I know I was invited?
Here's the awkward part: right after we moved in, we told them that we wanted to fence in the back yard for Marlowe. They said okay, but they wanted us to get it surveyed first. Fair enough, but it's been bloody hard to get a surveyor to come out and do the work. (Halifax!!!) Finally, Wayne got a surveyor out to replace the missing marker pins. Well... it turns out that we have way more land than we thought, and they have way less. The rose hedge isn't even NEAR the property line! They are understandable upset (who wouldn't be?) but they've also hinted that Ginny is particularly upset at us for wanting to put up a fence on what they always thought was their property. I know what you're thinking--not really our fault or our problem, right? True enough, but who wants to feud with their neighbours? Plus, they are quite nice (a little odd, but they've been good neighbours) and I don't like the idea that they're upset with us, whether it's our fault or not. So. I suspect that my baby shower invite got lost under a pile of pissed-off.
I don't really like leaving things like that, though, so yesterday, Trent and I went to get a little baby gift, and today, I made a tray of crostini to take over. I stopped in, told them I couldn't stay because I have a big pile of marking (which is actually quite true), but that I wanted to bring over a gift and a snack. A few minutes ago, while Trent was outside digging post holes for the new fence, they came by to return my plate, full of goodies from the shower. I think we're good.
How's that for a day of construction? Trent is building fences, and I'm mending them. Good fences make good neighbours, right? (Oh, the cliches, the cliches!)

Let's Play "Name That Cat!"

Mom and I went to Bridgewater today to pick up one last accessory for her new house... but she can't settle on a name. Here are a few that she likes:

• Ocean


• Saffron


• Chai


• Ulysses


• Birch


• Sumach


• Sasha

Quick! He needs a name by tomorrow! Help Mom decide!

Uh, oh--introspective again.

Maybe it's because I should be prepping for class and I'm procrastinating again, maybe it's because 30 ain't getting any further away, or maybe because September really is a month full of weird anniversaries, but I've been thinking a lot lately about where I was when...
9-11: Six years ago. For some reason, this one seems like the longest ago. I think it's because I was in such a weird place. I was 23, I'd just dropped out of the MA program, and I was working at Fort Edmonton, a place that always felt like such a retreat (or an escape) for me. It was this really gorgeous day, and I was at work, and I was so grateful to be working there, and relieved because I'd made the decision not to do my Master's degree (at least not yet), and I was really, really worried about the future. I had no idea where I wanted my life to go, and I was so focused on just enjoying the now because I knew that, by the end of September I'd have to start making some decisions, and then all of a sudden, there was this major world event happening, only it didn't really change the fact that I was still me, and I was still scared, and I still needed a plan. And it made me feel really small and really self-absorbed and just a little ashamed.
Lady Diana dies: 10 years ago. I had just started University. I was out of Cold Lake (again) and I was so excited. And I realized for the first time that I wasn't as small-town as I thought I was when all of my Kelsey Hall floormates were stoked about the possibility of getting drunk. So somewhere (I don't remember where) I met these three English guys from another floor, and we went for beers. We were having a really fun time, and we drank way too much beer, then it was on the news that Lady Di was dead. We were all like, "Oh shit," but honestly, we were too drunk to do anything but have a good time. Then one of the English guys chose that precise moment to start hitting on me "You know you're pretty?" And I laughed, and he said, "No, I mean it, you're really, really pretty," and I thought, "Oh, shit, I guess I can't hang out with these guys after all," and I teetered my lonely way across the road to 5 Kelsey where most of my floormates were already puking. But I'd lived in France, and I was oh-so-sophisticated, and I knew that if you ever got drunk, you disguised it, and that anyone with any self respect never, ever vomits in public. And I didn't spend much time on 5 Kelsey that year.
The Winspear Opens: 10 years ago. Again, my first year at UofEh. I had met this really cool girl in my English class (I don't even remember her name now) and we started hanging out together. She was invited to the poshgala Winspear opening ceremonies, only she didn't wear dresses (ever) and wanted to know if I had a dress she could borrow. Well, my Aunt Debbie had given me this wicked vintage gown--very 70s, very funky, and I lent it to her. A few days later, this girl and I met for coffee, and it became clear that she thought we were dating. Particularly strange since she'd met my boyfriend. I made it clear with all the delicacy that a 19-year-old could muster, that we were just friends. Well, next English class, she's sitting somewhere else. And she won't talk to me anymore. Then she dropped out of school. And she kept my dress. A few years later, I ran into her again. She was working at Audrey's Books. I asked her about my dress. She told me she was sure she'd returned it. Either that, she said, or she'd thrown it out.
The Dawson College shooting: 1 year ago. Is it awful that I remember this terrible, tragic event, and all I can think is, "Holy shit, that was a year ago already?"
So I guess what comes of all this is, I'm the centre of my own little world. As if that wasn't clear enough already.

For you... the Blue Beast!

Granted, she isn't pretty, but you can drive her while you're in Halifax!

And now, some funny pictures of Marlowe in a dress-up collar that Mom bought for her. Notice how, in the last photo, she has the same expression on her face that I have in my profile picture...

Because, of course, she couldn't have done it all by herself!

While we were in NB a couple of weeks ago, I got a little... shrill when I saw a preview for this summer's next flowsy romantic comedy: Becoming Jane, starring Anne Hathaway as Jane Austen. When I first heard about this film a couple of months ago, I thought, "huh. Wonder what they'll find to make a plot out of." After all, as Austen biographers will tell you, the novelist's life was not exactly exciting. She was devoted to her family, especially her sister, was excited and proud to be making money from her writing, never married, and died at around 40. In fact, her only engagement (the general outline of which was pillaged for the most recent film version of Mansfield Park) was to a friend of her brother--more of a family alliance than a romantic connection--and she changed her mind and broke off the engagement the next day!
Now, don't get me wrong. I know that biopics aren't documentaries--nor should they be. By all means, if you're making a movie or writing a novel about someone else's life, use creative license to make it more interesting. We don't have all access to anyone's life, and to me, creativity is more honest than bare-bones faithfulness to documented facts. Here's what bothers me: why are we still not giving women any credit for independent, creative impulse?! Women are either muse-figures, enhancing the creativity of virile artist-men, or else they're shy, timid creatures who must be awakened to artistic creativity by virile living-life men.
Okay. Take Walk the Line. I like this movie. A lot, and I thought Reese Witherspoon was amazing as June Carter Cash. But take a look at the plot line: crooner with raw talent produces great music all by himself, but has to be reined in by stable, reliable June Carter, who, despite the fact that she was a successful musician in her own right since childhood, is represented as artistically peaking when she wrote more music for her virtuoso husband to sing.
And now, Becoming Jane. The tagline: "Their Love Story Was Her Greatest Inspiration." In other words: poor cloistered, misunderstood Jane has nothing to write about until an unpredictable, virile man shows her how to live. Um... should I even get started on the implicit value of female versus male experience here? Or the assumptions about what enables creativity, and under what circumstances? Why do I suspect that we're not going to see a film any time soon about the woman who enabled Dickens' particular genius?
So, what do you say? Can you think of any movies where the roles are reversed, and where women's life experience enables men to become creative? Or where a strong, creative woman does just fine artistically, but needs life guidance from a stable, reliable man?

Just give me a basket and a... chainsaw?!

Wow. Trent and I just got back from a long weekend in New Brunswick. Aunt Maureen, Uncle Terry and Trent's cousin Jeff and his partner Melanie spoiled us for four fantastic days in Moncton and at the... "cottage" (think: log mansion) at Bass River. We had a fabulous time hanging out with family--including Mom & Dad Soholt (while poor Mom Esme got stuck petsitting--ha! that'll learn you to move to Nova Scotia!)--and doing various and sundry water sports. Stay tuned for pics.
One morning, we walked over to the "shed" (actually a massive garage containing, among other things, a righteous model train set and a vintage T-Bird), where Dad S and I noticed some raspberries growing next to the pond. Dd and Terry mentioned that there were more raspberries growing in the bush on the quad path.
"Oh, good," I said. "I'd like to go berry picking."
I asked Trent whether he wanted to join me. He said he'd rather watch paint dry.
As we walked back towards the house, I asked where the raspberries were. Terry said that they were near the back of the trail and that Trent could take me on the Rhino. (A Rhino is the unholy... and AWESOME spawn of a Jeep and a quad.) Before Trent could roll his eyes, I said, "No, no, just tell me where. I'll find it." After all, I'm a backwoods girl from way back.
"No, they're way back in there," Terry replied. "I'll have to show you."
I started to get uncomfortable. After all, I didn't want to make a big production of it. I just wanted to pck some raspberries!
We get back to the house and word gets out that I want to go berry picking. Immediately, Maureen goes hunting for a bucket. "No, no, no!" I cry. "I'll find a plastic bag or--something!" My vision of myself, tripping merrily through the forest, eating berries as I go is vanishing, morphing into this giant, embarassing production. I'm really uncomfortable now--everyone seems to be preparing for some sort of massive excursion. Maureen and Mom S are hunting for a berry receptacle, Trent and Dad S are prepping the quads, and Terry is out getting the chainsaw ready.
"Wait! What?! Chainsaw!" Good god! Now berry picking involves power tools?
"Yes, we'll need to clear the trail," Terry replies. "I'll take one Rhino on ahead and you and Trent can follow in the other."
I look guiltily at Bear. "We can watch paint dry later," I promise quietly. My bucolic vision of me as berry gatherer is dissolving into realities of enormous motorized bush vehicles, berry receptable quests and... chainsaws. And, next thing we know, when Trent isn't hauling freshly cut brush off the quad path, he's helping me AND Terry fill a bag with raspberries. Glancing at me reproachfully every few minutes.

Damn, those were good raspberries.

Just give me a crazyhuge straw hat to wear while I garden and I'm set!

Mom, Bear and I have been hard at work this month. We're finishing the deck and porch, and painting the house and garage... purple! Okay, technically, the house is a shade of deep blue, but to me it looks purple. How awesome is that, living in a purple house?
Those of you who have seen our HaliHouse know that it was formerly painted in tones that could only have been inspired by a detention centre of possibly a concentration camp: grey and black. Kind of dull in the summer, downright depressing in the winter. Now, it is a deep, vibrant shade of blue/purple, with white trim. (Or it's getting there, anyway.) It looks kind of sporty--like a team jersey or sailing clothes. I love it!

One neighbour's response to the new colour: "Purple! Looks great! I love it!"

Another neighbour's response: "You're not really painting it that colour, are you?"

Heh, heh heh.

If I Know I'm an Idiot, Does it Make Me Less of an Idiot?

Okay. I have a pattern: there's something I don't really want to do. Usually something administrative, like filling in my student loan forms, or a funding application, or other paperwork for school. Or my thesis prospectus, or maybe my course description. And I know that really, it isn't that bad, but I don't want to do it. So I put it off. As long as I can. And I start getting anxious. As the deadline approaches, I start finding new and creative reasons not to do it--like absolutely needing to clean out my cupboards. Or weeding the garden. Or reorganizing the shed. You get the picture. Very necessary things that totally trump this looming administrative task. And I start to get worried. It keeps me up at night. I get stomach aches. But I still don't just sit my ass down and do this stupid thing that has me all stressed out until I absolutely have to.
And you know what? It's never, ever as bad as I think it will be. Ever. Take, say, my prospectus. Now, I have a SSHRC. My SSHRC proposal is essentially a draft of my prospectus. But I can't even convince myself to open the damn file for weeks! And then I do, work on it for an hour and a half, and email it off to my supervisor as a first draft. No problem. Suddenly all my stress problems are gone.
Or my course description--I know most of the students won't even read the damn thing anyway, but I wai until the firggin thing is two weeks overdue before I even start work on it! And you know what? It takes me, like an hour. A day later, a few good friends have looked at it, given me their feedback, and the thing is submitted. So easy. Why did I put it off?
Only, the worst thing is, I know I'll just do it again. Anf again, and again, and again, and...

Noah's Ark: Bursting at the Seams

Okay, I've finally figured out how many pets is too many pets. Four. Four is the breaking number. Mom is in the process of moving to Nova Scotia, and becuase it was really stressing Tilou out to see the house slowly emptied, Mom brought him to Halifax during her house-hunting trip and left him here. We figured, no problem--Tilou is a really good dog, right?
In theory, yes. Except that Ozzy can't pass him without hissing. And Tilou thinks that's awesome, so he gets all excited and starts barking and dancing and shit. And then Ozzy, who really just wanted to show his displeasure in a sort of desultory manner, gets really freaked out and upset and puffs out, swipes with his claw and runs away. Also, the dogs get jealous of each other. If you pet one, the other runs up to you. In fairness, Marlowe started it. But then Tilou thought, hey, that's a prety good idea. And then when one gets jealous, they both start barking and trying to edge the other out. And then when it's time to go outside, both dogs want to go first. And last. And each cries at the door when the other is outside.
Oh, and don't even get me started on the two-leashes-for-a-walk thing!

Home for a Rest

Wow. Talk about your whirlwind trips! We are now back in Hali after the world's most fabulous... and exhausting trip to Edmonton! By my count, we managed to fit in:

• 4 business meetings
• at least 9 lunches and dinners out-an afternoon at Fort Edmonton
• visits with over 50 friends, family members, former coworkers and miscellaneous Edmontonians that we miss a lot--including several other out-of-towners, Mom & Dad Soholt, Michelle, Hardeep & Simrin, Aunt Maureen & Uncle Terry, Uncle Tim & Aunt Linda, Paulie and Heidi
• trips to virtually every part of the city (South side, West end, North side, Mill Woods, Riverbend, St Albert, downtown, Old Stratchcona, and University)
• 2 missed flights (oops!)
• 4 different airports
• one illegal driving incident (driving a rental very, very carefully without insurance!)
• 2 floor hockey ejections for high-sticking (guess who did that.)
• househunting with Phil & Nancy
• container gardening
• 2 nights on the town
• come-ons from several Edmontonians, including a shiny new Business graduate ("English? You know that's like totally worthless, right? You'll have to go back and take Education or something." What a turn-on.), a high school student, and a fireman (yup--those 3, all me!)
• a new tattoo (not me!)
• impromptu dance lessons for the rhythmically challenged at the Attic
• the discovery that Corey's girlfriend is the infamous Pixie
• stays at 3 different houses
• petsitting
• slight intoxication
• baking
• bowling
• shopping
• a wardrobe malfunction
• and very, very little sleep.

Whew! I'm tired just cataloguing it all! (And I'm sure there's a lot I've missed in there...). Anyway, it was so, so fantastic to see everyone--I miss you all already! And for those of you we missed, the good news is, we will probably be back in July and August.
Love and big, big thanks especially to Greg & Nadine, Julie, Bob & Emmet and Toni & Brad for letting us freeload with them.

Fort Edmonton

We're already running out of time to visit with everyone, but we would still love to see as many of you as possible. We're planning to go to Fort Edmonton Park. We'll meet at 10:30 tomorrow (Thursday) morning, just outside the main entrance at Fort Edmonton? This will be a kid-friendly activity--yay! Also, we have 6:00p.m. resos at Japanese Village--let me know if you want to join us. Here's my cell, just in case: 902-488-2458. If you can't make it at 10:30 but want to meet us there later, just give me a call on my cell.

Coming Up Next...

Okay. We've been having a fabulous time in Edmonton so far--it's so good to spend time with everybody! We thought maybe we'd have a mini-person-friendly day at Fort Edmonton on Thursday, and then, in the evening, dinner at Japanese Village. Let me know if you're up for one or both!

One More Sleep, and then Edmonton!

I could not be more excited! I thought maybe we could go for drinks on Whyte on Saturday. Assuming Sapphire still exists, I thought that would be a good place to start. Say... 8:30ish? I'll have my cell with me, if case anyone want to catch up with us later: 902-488-2458. We'll be petsitting at Greg and Nadine's until Wedneday, then we'll be at Bob & Julie's, then Toni & Brad's. We're planning some dinners out at our favourite places: Japanese Village, Earl's, Olive Garden, plus, I want to spend a half a day or so at Fort Edmonton. (Weird, the places you miss...).
We've got Japanese Village resos for Thursday. Let us know by Wednesday if you want to join us. And we thought we'd kick off the week with takeout and movies, either at Greg & Nadine's, or at a movie theatre on Friday (No, Brad, I'm not going to see a zombie movie. Ask, oh say, Toni or Trent or Tania or Roz or just about anyone how I feel about zombies. Would I take you to see a mouldy bees movie? Hmmm?)

My Imaginary Boyfriend...

Trent and I did another movie extra gig this week. (By the way, Diamond Grill is the perfect reading for that kind of day--the text is fragmented, your reading experience will be fragmented. Ideal!) It was actually kind of awful and boring and they wouldn't let us take breaks to eat, and they really, really rationed our pee breaks, and the movie (made-for-TV), Sticks and Stones, is probably going to be terrible. We spent the whole day booing an imaginay American national anthem at an imaginary Canadiens-Islanders hocke game (you guys remember the one). Mostly dreadful. Only, as we were filming the last scene, I look over to where the cameras and director are and someone looks familiar. Hot and familiar.

"Hey Trent, isn't that Christopher from Gilmore Girls?"
"I don't know. Looks like him."

Just then, Meagan the AD comes over. She's the same AD Trent worked with on Outlander. She goes straight to Trent. "I was looking for you!" she says. "Want to be in the shot?"

Of course he does. So he ends up right behind "Christopher" (whose name is actually David). Can you believe it? So much hotness in such a small space?

And, after the shoot, as we were waiting to sign out, I got my own close-up of Hot Christopher (sorry, I don't want to think of him as a real person) as he squeezes past me to get outside. And then, of course, I constructed an imaginary narrative in which he is now my boyfriend, and Trent is still my huz-bind, and everybody is totally, totally okay with that.

100 Posts!

Now please send me money.

Seriously--you didn't expect this level of quality entertainment for free, did you?

Growing Up Is NOT a Good Thing!

The difference between Becca at age 9 and Becca at 29:

You: Don't worry--you'll do fine on your exams. I know it.
Becca, Age 9: Really? Wow, thanks. I feel much better now. Seriously, thanks.
Becca, age 29: What? How can you make a statement like that? Where's your evidence? Are you citing an expert here, or is that your own, unfounded opinion? I don't deal in conjectures bud, I need EVIDENCE! Everyone has an opinion--my dog has an opinion--what you should have learned by now is to support your opinions with facts, quotations, textual support for god's sake. Honestly, an opinion like that, completely unfounded and unsupported is worthless to me. And cite your source. MLA style, please.

Update

Trent and I got home from Sparwood yesterday afternoon. In late March, my stepfather Ron died suddenly. Trent, Philip, Nancy and I all made it out to BC to help Mom out with a bunch of things, including putting her house up for sale. (If you're interested, you can see the house postings here and here.)
Mom, of course, misses Ron very much, but she is doing well and planning for the future.

The First Crocuses Are Up!

I saw them on Bayers Road on Monday.

Now. I shouldn't be looking at crocuses, thinking about crocuses, or Blogging about crocuses, I should be reading and studying and thinking, and when I'm taking a break from reading, studying and thinking, I should be marking and marking and marking.

Yeah, He's Hot!

Apparently, Atlantic Talent Agency lets you vote on how hot their talent is!

Well.

You know who's hot? Trent's hot! Click here and here and tell them so! Just above the pictures are a bunch of little white or yellow oblong dots. Click on them are rate Bear's picture. Maybe he will get more auditions!