Almost 25

Did you know that my birthday is on Tuesday? Cuz it is... And did I really just buy jeans at a regular people store? I'm pretty sure I did, but I haven't done that since high school, so it's a bit fuzzy.

Speaking of smaller jeans, the triumphant return to the gym will happen tomorrow. I haven't gone in about a month, and since I'm paying for it, I feel like I really should go. I was going to start going again today, but I went shopping instead.

People keep complaining about the heat around here, but I don't really get it, it doesn't seem that bad to me, though I reserve the right to complain later. It's been just over two years since I returned from Alabama, and I wasn't even there for the summer, but remembering the September heat there definitely makes this Nova Scotian weather pale in comparison.

I'm about halfway through "The World According to Garp". I've had it out of the library on various occasions since February and I'm determined to get it down soon.

The family reunion is next weekend. I plan to document the crazy as much as possible. Most of the crazy involves awkward family conversations. That's what happens when you put a bunch of people in a room who drive cars with bumper stickers that say, "I'd rather be alone in my living room with my reader's digest".

This will be a "dry" family reunion, no doubt. Which is something that apparently doesn't happen in Cape Breton... We're the boring, protestant kind of Irish.

Speaking of which, I forgot to wish you a happy Orangemen's Day. It was celebrated in various places around Nova Scotia until not too long ago (probably around the time people forgot what it was for). My grandfather remembers a big community picnic on July 12, and a parade. The community hall in Margaretsville was called the "Orangemen's Hall" until a few dozen years ago.

The more you know.

I want to Dance!

Ever have that desire to write, but nothing (seemingly) to write about? Inspiration sans content, that is me.

Perhaps I should be more observant in my every day life, therefore aquiring little anecdotes to brighten your day. It's not so much that I'm not observant, as I have no life. No seriously. I have no life. I work, I sleep, I occasionally scrapbook. C'est tout.

Alright, maybe that's not all... I have dabled in the church thing again, which is great. I've been to Birch Cove Baptist a few times and it'll probably stick. My schedule has been uncooperative, making that one hour a week amazingly impossible to fit in. I may go Catholic, they have more options.

Sunday night was spent at the Lower Deck after work. A bar as old as the city it entertains. I'd never been there before, and was a little surprised at how small it is. But it's refreshingly "maritimey", quaint, and swashbucklingly festive. If Johnny Depp had stepped into the room in full pirate garb, he would not have been out of place. The band was Signal Hill, a fav among the locals. Who goes out on a Sunday night besides binging Dal students you ask? That would be those of us who are excited when Monday gets here because it means a day off.

I finally switched over to Statcounter to find out who's been visiting. I don't know why I didn't do it sooner, whatever I was using before only told me the last ten visits and nine of them were usually me. 16, 500 visits later I've upgraded. What I did know previously was that the keyword that most often brought visitors was "Jillian Jiggs". I think I mentionned it a year ago, but the people are still interested. A few visitors were looking for "North Preston's Finest", the name (according to the papers) of a gang of pimps... Hopefully they mean no harm... I'm super nice!

Speaking of sixteen thousand, five hundred visits... I'm rather proud of that number as I've earned it 2-5 visits per day. Maybe I should mention Jillian Jiggs and pimp gangs more often?

My latest internet guilty pleasure is visiting a number of Northern Blogs, written by people who make their living north of the tree line. I know I've said it before, but I really, really, really want to move there. I consider it often. I've been checking the job postings in Noonavoot, but there hasn't been much I'm qualified for. They send most of their kids to Alberta when they're in care, and I haven't determined if there's a group home there or what.

Today I read "The Bad Mother's Handbook" and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I've ended up being a picky reader, I used to read anything that was handy, but now if I'm not grabbed by the author's style in the first page or so, the chances that I'll actually finish it are slim. I cannot stand cheesy or predictable writing, it makes me bonkers. And there are major demerits for typos. When I publish my Oprah Winfrey book of the month and Giller Prize nominee, there will not be a tpyo. I pormise.

Welcome to the Jungle

Here I am... beautiful Margaretsville. I have some days off (in a row! Can you imagine!), and since I didn't make it down at Christmas, I'm here for "old" Christmas. You know, the orthodox kind.

For those of you playing along at home, my little cousin Hailey has returned home. She's been home since Thursday and is doing great. She's two and a half weeks old and is already very alert and is almost able to lift her head. She's also very cute, and I got to hold her for the first time this evening. It's pretty neat to watch a newborn wake-up. There are pictures, but I'm in the valley and God has not yet blessed the region of the world with high speed internet, heck, there's not even a Wal-mart!

My grandparents house is a twilight zone. It usually takes me a few minutes to adjust to the heavy silence when I walk in the house. It even feels silent when people are talking... there's this ominous lack of buzzing... the buzzing of the outside world... It's difficult to explain, it starkly contrasts the buzz of my day to day life, the teenagers, the radios, the traffic. That doesn't happen here and in it's place there's a blanket of quiet that will either drive you mad or... well tonight it's only driving me mad so that's all that comes to mind.

Then there's that clock... the constant timekeeper that marks each passing second with a punctuated tick. I've never been here when it hasn't been ticking. It's both a reminder of the history of this small, handmade house, and the future of my ailing grandfather, who is now suffering (not suffering... existing through) the hallmarks of his age and life. The last stroke he had was Friday night at 4am. I'm praying there isn't one while I'm here... That would freak me out. He still remembers me well, and the glimmers of his absurd, crude and embarrassing humour still sneak through the fading eyes and toothless grin.

The toothless grin is his favorite prop.

I'm here till Tuesday. It won't feel like long enough, but I'll be itching to leave at the same time. Did I mention they cancelled the cable???