Last night I had the good fortune of getting a ride home with my brother and his girlfriend. It’s not that I dislike riding home with hubby, it’s just that it’s always late, and getting home at 5:30 is a real luxury that I could get used to very quickly.
Alas it was like 48 degrees in my house when I got there. It was so hot, poor Rosie was being very still, lurking in the shadows. I immediately threw all the windows wide open and set up a fan in the back-est darkest room, and we decided to just lay low for a bit.
I turned on the t.v. because I never do that. I thought “I am going to watch all those shows that I don’t get to watch when hubby’s here because he’d rather watch documentaries/nature shows/the news 3 times in a row.” I turned on the t.v. and Rosie and I plopped onto the futon and we watched t.v. Rosie is injured and that’s enough excuse for me.
Wow is t.v. ever bad these days. In my normal life, when hubby’s around and it’s not the middle of summer, I generally only tune in for a handful of shows: Tuesday nights we’d watch Flight of the Conchords for a half-hour, Wednesdays I’ll watch like 4 episodes in a row of At the End of My Leash where an annoying but effective dog-trainer guy works with all these families, usually completely irritating, to rehabilitate their dogs/themselves. It’s my guilty pleasure. He thinks he’s Cesar Milan but he’s so totally Calgary. I like the dogs though, and Rosie enjoys it.
On Thursdays we settle in with our pizza dinner (home-made! It’s not as bad as it sounds!) and allow ourselves to watch 3 hours solid of television. We start with My Name is Earl, not our favorite favorite but we’ll miss it anyway, then move to whatever they’ve got on next, which most recently was the excellent Parks and Recreation featuring the excellent Amy Poehler. Then we slide into The Office and cap it off with 30 Rock. Following that hilarity, we use The National as our chill-out room. Usually I knock off at about 10:30, once I’ve seen the top stories.
But it's summer now, and last night I flipped the channels, desperately looking for something to watch. I started with ET Canada where I learned all I never wanted to know about celebrities for the day, and then I went over to HGTV, where I watched perky real estate agents try to help people look for homes. A fellow named ‘Cheyne’ (pronounced ‘Shane’) who was also a falconer was looking for his first home, with great expectations. His mother carried a small dog with her wherever she went and was convinced she could negotiate $50k off the asking price. A young married couple, the husband of which was in a rock band, were looking to move out of the tour bus and into an apartment (!)… but with the bandmates. That’s an understanding wife. As she squealed, upon seeing her fully decorated new bedroom, “it’s just like a hotel!” and caught myself yelling “BECAUSE IT’S GOT NONE OF YOUR DAMN STUFF IN IT!” I realized I needed to turn off the t.v.
These days, if the options are watching snotty NYC Prep school kids being horrid, watching snotty airheads in L.A., watching irritating ‘celebrities’ survive in the jungle, watching people compete in talent shows, watching the evidence of peoples’ bad financial or relationship decisions, or watching real estate agents try to turn a silk purse into a sow’s ear, I think I might just throw the t.v. set out the window and enjoy the breeze.
6/22/09
OK Summer, It's ON.
This weekend our little family was bitch-slapped by mother nature. It was nothing that we should ring alarm bells about I don’t think, but someone flicked the ‘summer’ switch and we were immediately inflicted with all summer concerns.
Saturday we went up to the land to check out our new laneway. It was momentous – we were finally able to DRIVE into our lot. What a great feeling. However, when we parked the truck and got out, we realized the side-effect of taking a backhoe to black earth in the deep forest in June – the place is a wall of blackflies and mosquitos. The laneway is a bit messy but give it a few weeks and the edges will start to grow back and cover up the mess. We need to cut down a few more (dead and scruffy) trees to get the air moving in there, to ward off the insect army.
We first headed down to the waterfront and I took the first swim in my own lake. It felt marvelous – the water was the perfect temperature, the bottom felt ok, it was nice and shallow and Rosie had the time of her life, running back and forth through the water, swimming around in circles and chasing sticks. She swam for about an hour solid. She and hubby swam down the shoreline and then back up the shoreline, while I stayed behind with the loppers and clipped down the crappy little trees that made the beach inaccessible. I didn’t cut them all down – just the ones blocking our beach and the ones blocking the access point for our future dock. The beach is now sunny and passable. I call it a beach but really it’s a sandy strip about 2 feet wide – 4 at its widest.
Then we tried to measure out BIL’s cottage footprint, based on plans he sent us Friday night. I think we did an ok job, but we were rushed, as the dog was being eaten alive. No joke, her eyes are still surrounded by little bumps. Luckily the bites don’t seem to irritate her the way they irritate me, but it still makes me sad to see her with flies stuck to her eyes. I think that footprint will need to be re-measured so he doesn’t end up with a wonky cottage.
Sunday we took off and headed north, to 31-mile lake, to spend the day with my family. My parents launched their boat for the season, so it was the first day ‘on the lake’ for all of us. We got out of the car at the boat launch and Rosie went running into the water to frolic as she usually does, but I heard her yelp, and saw her hobble out of the water in such pain that she didn’t want to stand up. She just lay in the dirt holding her paw up and looking at me, whimpering. All I saw when I examined it was a raised swollen bump that appeared to be rasped or scratched – no blood, no nothing. Anyway, when we got to the island 40 minutes later she appeared to feel better but then got worse, and even though her brother was there, she didn’t really run and play. Swimming felt ok (the water was pretty chilly and it’s low-impact, and probably cleans it out a bit) so we swam and swam, around the island. She must have gone around the island four full times. She spent the rest of the time huddled up on the dock or in the boat, shaking a bit, covered in a towel, giving us the sad eyes. He paw wasn’t looking any better – between the toes it was all puffy and red, but still no blood.
So far, our leading theory as to what happened in the water is that she was nipped ever-so-slightly by a ticked-off snapping turtle. When we returned to the parking lot at the end of the day, our theory was reinforced by the lot full of snapping-turtle tracks, and areas dug up in search of a nesting site, which had all happened while we were out for the day. There was a busy snapping turtle in the hood, and it was feeling a bit defensive. I think Rosie accidentally paddled it while it was lurking in the mud, and it nipped her between the toes – obviously it didn’t get a good shot at her thank god, or else she’d be down a toe today. For once I’m happy Rosie is always moving.
She slept all the way home and last evening appeared to be feeling a bit better – she was walking on it limping a bit, and using it to stabilize her bone while chewing. This morning her body no longer felt hot, and wasn’t panting anymore, but the paw was still swollen so my mom’s taking her to the vet this afternoon to check it out. I want to see if we can give her any painkillers.
It was an on-and-off cloudy day, and while we were all on the island enjoying ourselves, all of a sudden the wind whipped up and it started to rain. It poured, but we all got into my parents’ boat and pulled the cover over us just in time. We were cozy in there, with 6 humans and 2 (large) dogs, curled up, listening to the radio and having some cocktails. The weather got beautiful again quickly once the rain passed, and we all ended up going home burnt to a damn crisp. We are all red today. Those cloudy days are sneaky!
Anyway, stay tuned for the next part of the turtle-bitten dog saga. My heart breaks for Rosie, who didn’t have much fun at all yesterday. Between the bugs, the turtles, the rain, the sunburns, and the knee I bashed on a rock while swimming, we were walloped by summer this weekend and going back to work feels a bit like sweet relief. The deck guy is at our place, the trailer’s almost finished, and I have high hopes for July and August.
Saturday we went up to the land to check out our new laneway. It was momentous – we were finally able to DRIVE into our lot. What a great feeling. However, when we parked the truck and got out, we realized the side-effect of taking a backhoe to black earth in the deep forest in June – the place is a wall of blackflies and mosquitos. The laneway is a bit messy but give it a few weeks and the edges will start to grow back and cover up the mess. We need to cut down a few more (dead and scruffy) trees to get the air moving in there, to ward off the insect army.
We first headed down to the waterfront and I took the first swim in my own lake. It felt marvelous – the water was the perfect temperature, the bottom felt ok, it was nice and shallow and Rosie had the time of her life, running back and forth through the water, swimming around in circles and chasing sticks. She swam for about an hour solid. She and hubby swam down the shoreline and then back up the shoreline, while I stayed behind with the loppers and clipped down the crappy little trees that made the beach inaccessible. I didn’t cut them all down – just the ones blocking our beach and the ones blocking the access point for our future dock. The beach is now sunny and passable. I call it a beach but really it’s a sandy strip about 2 feet wide – 4 at its widest.
Then we tried to measure out BIL’s cottage footprint, based on plans he sent us Friday night. I think we did an ok job, but we were rushed, as the dog was being eaten alive. No joke, her eyes are still surrounded by little bumps. Luckily the bites don’t seem to irritate her the way they irritate me, but it still makes me sad to see her with flies stuck to her eyes. I think that footprint will need to be re-measured so he doesn’t end up with a wonky cottage.
Sunday we took off and headed north, to 31-mile lake, to spend the day with my family. My parents launched their boat for the season, so it was the first day ‘on the lake’ for all of us. We got out of the car at the boat launch and Rosie went running into the water to frolic as she usually does, but I heard her yelp, and saw her hobble out of the water in such pain that she didn’t want to stand up. She just lay in the dirt holding her paw up and looking at me, whimpering. All I saw when I examined it was a raised swollen bump that appeared to be rasped or scratched – no blood, no nothing. Anyway, when we got to the island 40 minutes later she appeared to feel better but then got worse, and even though her brother was there, she didn’t really run and play. Swimming felt ok (the water was pretty chilly and it’s low-impact, and probably cleans it out a bit) so we swam and swam, around the island. She must have gone around the island four full times. She spent the rest of the time huddled up on the dock or in the boat, shaking a bit, covered in a towel, giving us the sad eyes. He paw wasn’t looking any better – between the toes it was all puffy and red, but still no blood.
So far, our leading theory as to what happened in the water is that she was nipped ever-so-slightly by a ticked-off snapping turtle. When we returned to the parking lot at the end of the day, our theory was reinforced by the lot full of snapping-turtle tracks, and areas dug up in search of a nesting site, which had all happened while we were out for the day. There was a busy snapping turtle in the hood, and it was feeling a bit defensive. I think Rosie accidentally paddled it while it was lurking in the mud, and it nipped her between the toes – obviously it didn’t get a good shot at her thank god, or else she’d be down a toe today. For once I’m happy Rosie is always moving.
She slept all the way home and last evening appeared to be feeling a bit better – she was walking on it limping a bit, and using it to stabilize her bone while chewing. This morning her body no longer felt hot, and wasn’t panting anymore, but the paw was still swollen so my mom’s taking her to the vet this afternoon to check it out. I want to see if we can give her any painkillers.
It was an on-and-off cloudy day, and while we were all on the island enjoying ourselves, all of a sudden the wind whipped up and it started to rain. It poured, but we all got into my parents’ boat and pulled the cover over us just in time. We were cozy in there, with 6 humans and 2 (large) dogs, curled up, listening to the radio and having some cocktails. The weather got beautiful again quickly once the rain passed, and we all ended up going home burnt to a damn crisp. We are all red today. Those cloudy days are sneaky!
Anyway, stay tuned for the next part of the turtle-bitten dog saga. My heart breaks for Rosie, who didn’t have much fun at all yesterday. Between the bugs, the turtles, the rain, the sunburns, and the knee I bashed on a rock while swimming, we were walloped by summer this weekend and going back to work feels a bit like sweet relief. The deck guy is at our place, the trailer’s almost finished, and I have high hopes for July and August.
6/12/09
Letting Go
Hubby and I were on our way into work this morning and the conversation turned to comedy. He’d seen Carol Burnett on TV last night and was reminded of how hilarious she is, and how much her brand of humour works to this day, even though comedy in general has changed. I told him that I have come to the point in my life where I can admit that I really love comedy. I seriously love it. I am totally comfortable saying that I don’t really like dramas. Where some folks might think that indicates a kind of shallowness or lack of intellectual rigour, I am now 33 years old and I don’t like dramas. Lofty Oscar-winning movies like Doubt or The Reader sound like boring dirges to me, exercises in emotional manipulation. Give me Judd Apatow any day. I’ll take Seth Rogan over Sean Penn please.
We got to talking about all those arty movies that film students and people in their early 20s love or love to talk about. I did genuinely enjoy many of them. I’ve seen much of Jim Jarmusch’s oeuvre, I’ve seen Brazil, I’ve seen many Peter Greenaway movies. But the time in my life for such things has passed. I’ve let go of the intellectual poseur that I once maybe aspired to be – I no longer have anything to prove.
That made me think of all the other things that I have let go. Not including my ass (ha ha see? comedy). I have let go of aspirations that I might one day become a jeweler. I enjoyed making jewelry when the time was right, and I really love having that knowledge under my belt and may one day take a course or something just for fun. But I don’t think I’ll invest any more money in tools or other supplies, because I have realized that I don’t have it in me anymore to focus on it. I am putting it on the back burner. Maybe not letting go completely, but not putting pressure on myself to pursue it anymore.
I am letting go of the idea that I will travel the world. I thought about that question in detail one day, and got rigorous with myself in deciding on the places that I’m actually interested in. I made a list. I mean no offense to anyone and I’m sure glad other people are doing it, but in all honesty, I have zero interest in traveling to China, Russia, South America, Africa, Japan and most of the rest of Asia. I’d go to India on a free ticket, but I wouldn’t pursue it. This may make me less interesting in the eyes of some folks, but I had to get honest with myself and pare down the list, because I am at my roots a homebody. Also I hate flying. Now I can really focus on a short list of places that I would really like to see or revisit: Scandinavia, Thailand, the Yukon/Northwest Territories, Italy, and more of Austria, the Netherlands and Germany, which are places with real relevance to my life. So freeing.
I am letting go of some hobbies, because frankly I am overbooked in terms of interest and commitments. I am letting go of the idea of myself as ‘photographer’, because I realize I’m not that good at it and I don’t have the brain energy or focus (ha) to learn all about all the camera settings. I am a point-and-shooter and whatever success I’ve had in the past has been a fluke. I’ll learn to use what I’ve got but nobody should expect a career out of me. Also my sister-in-law is so much better at it that I will defer to her for all photographic needs.
Soon I will let go of home decorating, because I hope that at some point in the near future, it’ll just be done. Once I do this and this and that and this and that other thing….I am taking the pressure off of myself to be a terrific cheese maker, and will instead make easy cheese when the situation calls for it and I really feel like it, like in the summer when the basil and tomatoes are ripe and I can make a quick mozza, and sprinkle it all with fresh ground pepper and balsamic vinegar. Very do-able.
I’m letting go of the idea that I’ll someday be able to grow all of my own produce. Realistically, I have a job, and so am out of the house for 11 hours a day. I’m not a farmer. Also realistically, I live north of Ottawa in zone 4.5/5 and our growing season is not that long. I already got realistic with myself this year and decided not to grow things that are difficult or that I don’t actually love eating (radishes, beets, cantaloupe). One day I will let go of the grow-op too, because I know that I can find organic tomato and pepper seedlings somewhere if I look hard enough and it’ll be worth the time and energy to just pay for them. Also I am lazy – full disclosure. I have tons of enthusiasm for the garden in May and June but come late July and August, things start to become quite neglected in there. When pestilence hits, I’m all like “whatever.”
I am not ambitious. I have come to realize this about myself. I have a great job, am financially comfortable, and I’ll be happy to stay at this level for a really long time. I am not one to climb the ladder and I don't have my eye on anyone else's job. I squeezed my way into the job that I love, and hope that I get to keep it when my term is up in two years, but aside from that I don’t have any more need for power, money, additional responsibility, etc. I hope to become a happy and knowledgeable lifer.
I’m letting go of the idea that I’m young. I’m trying now to focus on not being an awkward middle-aged person. I find it sometimes hard to relate to my much-younger coworkers, and sometimes find myself feeling old and weird and square. Questions like “is that your boyfriend?” sound much weirder coming from someone ten years older than you.
I’ve let go of the idea that I am hip to new music. I have zero idea what all the kids are listening to these days. I just think they should all get out into the sun and eat a cheeseburger and stop wearing their hair so that it looks like it’s on backwards. I stick with my old friends – the Beastie Boys, Beck – all of whom are comfortably middle-aged (I think the Beastie Boys are actually approaching 50) and have picked up a few new ones along the way, but I do not by any means have my finger on any kind of pulse anymore. If it comes to my local bar, I might go see it but other than that I no longer go to see bands at bars and clubs or feel that desire to NEVER MISS ANYTHING. I haven’t bought a music magazine in 5 years.
I’ve let go of the idea of myself as a cat person. I am officially through my cat phase. I still have a cat – Sasha – and I love her dearly, but it’s not the same anymore; the term ‘Crazy cat Lady’ no longer applies. Turns out I was only obsessed with certain cats. When offers of free cats come my way, my gut reaction is “nonononono.” I’ve marked it in memoriam, I’ve moved past it, and now I’m fully committed to being a dog person. Dogs are hilarious and It’s better for the aforementioned ass.
I'm mostly letting go of high heels. I wear orthotics people! From now on it's platforms or kitten heels, but stilettos are no longer my speed.
All of this housecleaning might be indicative of a mid-life crisis, but I really feel like I’m in a simplification phase. Life is busy, the projects have gotten larger, and I’m at a crossroads in terms of family planning etc., so something had to give. I think it’s healthy to do this kind of analysis once or twice a decade.
We got to talking about all those arty movies that film students and people in their early 20s love or love to talk about. I did genuinely enjoy many of them. I’ve seen much of Jim Jarmusch’s oeuvre, I’ve seen Brazil, I’ve seen many Peter Greenaway movies. But the time in my life for such things has passed. I’ve let go of the intellectual poseur that I once maybe aspired to be – I no longer have anything to prove.
That made me think of all the other things that I have let go. Not including my ass (ha ha see? comedy). I have let go of aspirations that I might one day become a jeweler. I enjoyed making jewelry when the time was right, and I really love having that knowledge under my belt and may one day take a course or something just for fun. But I don’t think I’ll invest any more money in tools or other supplies, because I have realized that I don’t have it in me anymore to focus on it. I am putting it on the back burner. Maybe not letting go completely, but not putting pressure on myself to pursue it anymore.
I am letting go of the idea that I will travel the world. I thought about that question in detail one day, and got rigorous with myself in deciding on the places that I’m actually interested in. I made a list. I mean no offense to anyone and I’m sure glad other people are doing it, but in all honesty, I have zero interest in traveling to China, Russia, South America, Africa, Japan and most of the rest of Asia. I’d go to India on a free ticket, but I wouldn’t pursue it. This may make me less interesting in the eyes of some folks, but I had to get honest with myself and pare down the list, because I am at my roots a homebody. Also I hate flying. Now I can really focus on a short list of places that I would really like to see or revisit: Scandinavia, Thailand, the Yukon/Northwest Territories, Italy, and more of Austria, the Netherlands and Germany, which are places with real relevance to my life. So freeing.
I am letting go of some hobbies, because frankly I am overbooked in terms of interest and commitments. I am letting go of the idea of myself as ‘photographer’, because I realize I’m not that good at it and I don’t have the brain energy or focus (ha) to learn all about all the camera settings. I am a point-and-shooter and whatever success I’ve had in the past has been a fluke. I’ll learn to use what I’ve got but nobody should expect a career out of me. Also my sister-in-law is so much better at it that I will defer to her for all photographic needs.
Soon I will let go of home decorating, because I hope that at some point in the near future, it’ll just be done. Once I do this and this and that and this and that other thing….I am taking the pressure off of myself to be a terrific cheese maker, and will instead make easy cheese when the situation calls for it and I really feel like it, like in the summer when the basil and tomatoes are ripe and I can make a quick mozza, and sprinkle it all with fresh ground pepper and balsamic vinegar. Very do-able.
I’m letting go of the idea that I’ll someday be able to grow all of my own produce. Realistically, I have a job, and so am out of the house for 11 hours a day. I’m not a farmer. Also realistically, I live north of Ottawa in zone 4.5/5 and our growing season is not that long. I already got realistic with myself this year and decided not to grow things that are difficult or that I don’t actually love eating (radishes, beets, cantaloupe). One day I will let go of the grow-op too, because I know that I can find organic tomato and pepper seedlings somewhere if I look hard enough and it’ll be worth the time and energy to just pay for them. Also I am lazy – full disclosure. I have tons of enthusiasm for the garden in May and June but come late July and August, things start to become quite neglected in there. When pestilence hits, I’m all like “whatever.”
I am not ambitious. I have come to realize this about myself. I have a great job, am financially comfortable, and I’ll be happy to stay at this level for a really long time. I am not one to climb the ladder and I don't have my eye on anyone else's job. I squeezed my way into the job that I love, and hope that I get to keep it when my term is up in two years, but aside from that I don’t have any more need for power, money, additional responsibility, etc. I hope to become a happy and knowledgeable lifer.
I’m letting go of the idea that I’m young. I’m trying now to focus on not being an awkward middle-aged person. I find it sometimes hard to relate to my much-younger coworkers, and sometimes find myself feeling old and weird and square. Questions like “is that your boyfriend?” sound much weirder coming from someone ten years older than you.
I’ve let go of the idea that I am hip to new music. I have zero idea what all the kids are listening to these days. I just think they should all get out into the sun and eat a cheeseburger and stop wearing their hair so that it looks like it’s on backwards. I stick with my old friends – the Beastie Boys, Beck – all of whom are comfortably middle-aged (I think the Beastie Boys are actually approaching 50) and have picked up a few new ones along the way, but I do not by any means have my finger on any kind of pulse anymore. If it comes to my local bar, I might go see it but other than that I no longer go to see bands at bars and clubs or feel that desire to NEVER MISS ANYTHING. I haven’t bought a music magazine in 5 years.
I’ve let go of the idea of myself as a cat person. I am officially through my cat phase. I still have a cat – Sasha – and I love her dearly, but it’s not the same anymore; the term ‘Crazy cat Lady’ no longer applies. Turns out I was only obsessed with certain cats. When offers of free cats come my way, my gut reaction is “nonononono.” I’ve marked it in memoriam, I’ve moved past it, and now I’m fully committed to being a dog person. Dogs are hilarious and It’s better for the aforementioned ass.
I'm mostly letting go of high heels. I wear orthotics people! From now on it's platforms or kitten heels, but stilettos are no longer my speed.
All of this housecleaning might be indicative of a mid-life crisis, but I really feel like I’m in a simplification phase. Life is busy, the projects have gotten larger, and I’m at a crossroads in terms of family planning etc., so something had to give. I think it’s healthy to do this kind of analysis once or twice a decade.
6/2/09
My Town
My town is funny.
Long a refuge for disenchanted city folks and people who run at a slightly different speed, my little town is unique in that in many ways it’s a rural small town, where everyone knows each other and who they’re sleeping with, and yet it’s a half-hour out of the city, so the lifestyle is sustainable in that you can hold down a decent job while living ‘away from it all’. It’s a haven for industries such as yoga and pottery studios, organic mushroom farming, watercolour painting, shiatsu massage and dog-sledding. It has for several decades been happy home to a large gay and lesbian population. There’s ‘Hippie’s Custom Tattoos’ right beside the pizza place, which serves the best pizza on earth, and features one called the ‘Magic Mushroom.’ It's a great place to visit if you need your chakras realigned. Why, just this morning I got a copy of the daily email newsletter with the following public service announcement:
Kripalu yoga is cancelled this Tuesday, June 2nd due to the demystification of channelling happening in the space.
There are literally about 15 yoga classes happening in my village at any given time.
All of this lives side-by-side and in relative harmony with the local population of hunters and fisherman, wood-cutters and dudes with ATVs and snowmobiles. Many of them are one and the same (i.e. fishermen who do pottery or yoga). Our local bar (one of two rockin’ local bars) is owned by a music impresario, who has brought in acts such as the Arcade Fire, Grizzly Bear, Final Fantasy, Danny Michel, and Buck 65. The music they feature has a contemporary-folk and world beat focus and is normally of really high quality, and bands reportedly love playing the venue, whose stage sits right in front of a picture window looking out over the dark river and the mountains. On the off nights, I’m pretty sure the bar still has a ‘Dart Night’ and the old local dudes hold up the bar while drinking their quarts of beer with tiny little glasses. There is a pool table and usually a hockey game on the t.v., and the owner’s dog walks around freely among the crowd. In the winter it’s not uncommon to see the parking lot filled with ski-doos, and in the fall, sometimes the trucks in the lot have deer strapped to their roofs. The other local bar is owned by a local band, and is always hopping. Last saturday there was a horse tied up to the patio, and last night someone pulled up in a backhoe. You can bring in a picture of your dog and they will put it on the dog-wall with everyone else's dogs.
When we bought our new car, the wonderful Pontiac Vibe (the ‘Viberator’) I called up Richard at the local dealership and pretty much said “hey Richard we need a car, do you have any cheap Vibes?” When I couldn’t make up my mind about it, they just held it for me until I was ready to commit. When I call they jokingly answer the phone with “whaddya want?” or some other old-man phone-answering joke because they can see my name come up on the screen. There’s some yuks about my dad to get out of the way before we can do business, and they are always very accommodating with regards to my schedule, or loaner cars.
There are some notable gaps in the economy of our town, which some brave individual should fill some day (not me). I believe an art supply shop, maybe one that sells fabric and yarn as well, and could bring in specialty items like clay for the potters, would do really well. We don’t have a gas station – are we the only town on earth without a gas station? The only take-out around is pizza; I’m not complaining, because our local pizza is earth-shatteringly good, but sometimes I have a hankering for Chinese. A tackle shop and/or marina could do well, since our town is on a river and is surrounded by cottage country; some genius could combine this with the gas station and start raking in the cash. Unfortunately, it’s tough to make a go of it and I’ve seen a lot of businesses start up and then fail almost immediately. They’re doomed before they open their doors. The place nearly shuts down in winter, so if it’s a tourist-driven business, they have to know what they’re getting into before committing.
The government of Québec insists that signage in our town be posted in French only, or French-first-and-bigger, but nobody who actually lives there cares much. Those things matter more in other towns. When those laws came out, local retailers started posting their specials in Ukranian, Thai, Swedish, just to piss off the man. Visitors are usually tourists from all over, and they don’t much care either I don't think, though I’m sure the cottagers visiting from Ontario and from the states would prefer that their cashiers at the grocery store speak at least a bit of English. It’s just economics. We’re a border town and the lines get fuzzy. In our town, English folks speak a bit of French and French folks speak a bit of English and generally everything is copasetic until an election comes along and some politician 'from away' jams a stick in our spokes.
Anyway, that is my ode to my town. I have lived there since I was two years old, interrupted by only one short sojourn in the city when I first moved in with hubby, and I can’t imagine living anywhere else on the planet. Someone asked me the other day “what’s it like actually being from here?” and I couldn’t answer the question. It’s paradise, obviously, and it’s funny, and sad when negative changes or conflicts happen, and interesting to meet the people who come through, stay awhile, then move on. It’s the only place I know.
Long a refuge for disenchanted city folks and people who run at a slightly different speed, my little town is unique in that in many ways it’s a rural small town, where everyone knows each other and who they’re sleeping with, and yet it’s a half-hour out of the city, so the lifestyle is sustainable in that you can hold down a decent job while living ‘away from it all’. It’s a haven for industries such as yoga and pottery studios, organic mushroom farming, watercolour painting, shiatsu massage and dog-sledding. It has for several decades been happy home to a large gay and lesbian population. There’s ‘Hippie’s Custom Tattoos’ right beside the pizza place, which serves the best pizza on earth, and features one called the ‘Magic Mushroom.’ It's a great place to visit if you need your chakras realigned. Why, just this morning I got a copy of the daily email newsletter with the following public service announcement:
Kripalu yoga is cancelled this Tuesday, June 2nd due to the demystification of channelling happening in the space.
There are literally about 15 yoga classes happening in my village at any given time.
All of this lives side-by-side and in relative harmony with the local population of hunters and fisherman, wood-cutters and dudes with ATVs and snowmobiles. Many of them are one and the same (i.e. fishermen who do pottery or yoga). Our local bar (one of two rockin’ local bars) is owned by a music impresario, who has brought in acts such as the Arcade Fire, Grizzly Bear, Final Fantasy, Danny Michel, and Buck 65. The music they feature has a contemporary-folk and world beat focus and is normally of really high quality, and bands reportedly love playing the venue, whose stage sits right in front of a picture window looking out over the dark river and the mountains. On the off nights, I’m pretty sure the bar still has a ‘Dart Night’ and the old local dudes hold up the bar while drinking their quarts of beer with tiny little glasses. There is a pool table and usually a hockey game on the t.v., and the owner’s dog walks around freely among the crowd. In the winter it’s not uncommon to see the parking lot filled with ski-doos, and in the fall, sometimes the trucks in the lot have deer strapped to their roofs. The other local bar is owned by a local band, and is always hopping. Last saturday there was a horse tied up to the patio, and last night someone pulled up in a backhoe. You can bring in a picture of your dog and they will put it on the dog-wall with everyone else's dogs.
When we bought our new car, the wonderful Pontiac Vibe (the ‘Viberator’) I called up Richard at the local dealership and pretty much said “hey Richard we need a car, do you have any cheap Vibes?” When I couldn’t make up my mind about it, they just held it for me until I was ready to commit. When I call they jokingly answer the phone with “whaddya want?” or some other old-man phone-answering joke because they can see my name come up on the screen. There’s some yuks about my dad to get out of the way before we can do business, and they are always very accommodating with regards to my schedule, or loaner cars.
There are some notable gaps in the economy of our town, which some brave individual should fill some day (not me). I believe an art supply shop, maybe one that sells fabric and yarn as well, and could bring in specialty items like clay for the potters, would do really well. We don’t have a gas station – are we the only town on earth without a gas station? The only take-out around is pizza; I’m not complaining, because our local pizza is earth-shatteringly good, but sometimes I have a hankering for Chinese. A tackle shop and/or marina could do well, since our town is on a river and is surrounded by cottage country; some genius could combine this with the gas station and start raking in the cash. Unfortunately, it’s tough to make a go of it and I’ve seen a lot of businesses start up and then fail almost immediately. They’re doomed before they open their doors. The place nearly shuts down in winter, so if it’s a tourist-driven business, they have to know what they’re getting into before committing.
The government of Québec insists that signage in our town be posted in French only, or French-first-and-bigger, but nobody who actually lives there cares much. Those things matter more in other towns. When those laws came out, local retailers started posting their specials in Ukranian, Thai, Swedish, just to piss off the man. Visitors are usually tourists from all over, and they don’t much care either I don't think, though I’m sure the cottagers visiting from Ontario and from the states would prefer that their cashiers at the grocery store speak at least a bit of English. It’s just economics. We’re a border town and the lines get fuzzy. In our town, English folks speak a bit of French and French folks speak a bit of English and generally everything is copasetic until an election comes along and some politician 'from away' jams a stick in our spokes.
Anyway, that is my ode to my town. I have lived there since I was two years old, interrupted by only one short sojourn in the city when I first moved in with hubby, and I can’t imagine living anywhere else on the planet. Someone asked me the other day “what’s it like actually being from here?” and I couldn’t answer the question. It’s paradise, obviously, and it’s funny, and sad when negative changes or conflicts happen, and interesting to meet the people who come through, stay awhile, then move on. It’s the only place I know.
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