...Funny you should say that...

"There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you, yourself,
have altered."
~ Nelson Mandela ~

Ain't that the truth. Nelson always was good with words, I think it's because he had all that time in solitude on Robben Island to think...

Now, I can't compare myself to Nelson Mandela, no of course not, that would be silly beyond belief, but I can and do identify with the quote he said above. There's nothing quite like returning to a place that largely remains unchanged to recognize the ways that you have changed since last you were there. I experience that every time I move back to a place I've been - Toronto, Halifax, Peterborough. I sometimes experience this surreal, out-of-body type feeling when I step off a plane and walk down the streets of the new city I've been transported to. The sights, sounds, smells and sentations of the place I left behind are still so real to me, that to replace them with a whole new set seems strange. (We call what I just did alliteration. I'm quite proud of it). Sometimes, I can look at a photograph and the scene in it is still alive in my senses and I can't seem to comprehend the fact that I'm actually hundreds of miles away (or sometimes thousands) from where it was taken.

I'm back living in Peterborough now. I haven't lived here for about 3 years or so, and as I walk the streets I'm trying to access a mental map of the city that I created when I was 20 years old. The problem is, the map seems difficult to remember. It's like when you're learning a new language, and before you are able to come up with the word you're looking for in the new language, your mind processes through all of the languages in which you already know how to speak that word: "friend," "ami," "amigo," "padi," until finally you filter through to the right choice. My mental map of Peterborough is like that. It is superimposed on top of all of the other cities I have lived in (unfortunately all which seem to have similar street names...damn those Brits and their ubiquitousness). So, if you see me wondering aimlessly, don't be alarmed. I'm just trying to sort through my map and get a grip on where I'm really going.

No, I don't want to pick a city guide up from the convenience store.
But thanks for the suggestion.

...and this is why I love strangers...

So my friends Kate and Nate (isn't it cute how their names rhyme? Awwww. Awwww. Blahhh.) are getting married tomorrow which is part of the reason why I'm currently in Halifax. Tonight I was invited to the rehearsal dinner which was thrown for the wedding party and all out of town guests. It was really nice to see Kate and Nate and a few other people I haven't laid eyes on since I left last August. These kinds of things are also great for mingling, and making small talk to strangers and random family-of-the-couple type people.

Generally, my conversations all go the same: I explain why I'm an 'out of town guest,' how I know Kate and Nate, why I don't live in Hailfax any more, what I do with my life, how I've been teaching in Sierra Leone for the last year etc., etc. One lovely couple were greatly surprised at home much I'd accomplished for 'one so young.'

"My goodness, dear, that is a lot you've done in your life. You certainly should be proud of your accomplishments for one so young," this couple said.
"Well, yes...it's been good. But I'm 26, so I've had a few years." I reply.
"Oh, my! Oh my goodness! 26 years old you say! Why, we would have said you were much younger than that, wouldn't we have Tom?" says the well-meaning wife.
"Uh, yes. Most certainly, at least 18," says the husband.


Gosh. Doesn't seem as impressive now that I'm 26, huh.

But hey, at least I'm allowed to vote. And I can even drink. If I move to Quebec.

Parlez-vous francais?

...Thanksgiving Weekend...

Ah, Autumn has arrived! The leaves are turning their various hues, the chestnuts drop as squirrels scamper along uneven branches, while the air is strewn with the scent of fall foliage. And everywhere, there is a pervasive feeling of despair. Winter is coming. It only gets worse from here.

I know, I really am quite optimistic.

In the spirit of the season, and because we're having Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow (ok, more because we're having Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow than the spirit of the season) I made two pumpkin pies. I love pumpkin pie! I don't really like pies, but I will make an exception for the pumpkin variety.


And this is how I spent my Saturday.

Did you know that "Emily" actually means "industrious, hard-worker." See, it's not even my fault. Just wait 'til Christmas...and I tell you about my middle name.

...well that was exhausting...

You know those people who say that physical exercise is good for you? They're lying.
You know how they say 'oh sure, it might be hell while you're doing it, but gosh, you just feel so great when you're done.' They are still lying. Because NEWSFLASH: after physical activity you do not feel great and you continue to not feel great for days afterwards. Ergo, those guys are boldface (like how I made the word 'boldface' in bold type? eh?) lying to you.

First of all, what was I thinking on Friday when I decided that playing on the jungle gym with the kids I was babysitting was a good idea? Why wasn't there someone around to tell me I would regret this and that my muscles would still be angry with me on Monday? Thanks for nothing other parents who were just sitting around watching me play. Thanks for nothing.

Then, who can explain to me why I thought walking around literally all day on Saturday would be fulfilling? I had 2 brief moments of stasis, the first which involved sushi, the second which involved Thai food, but other than that it was walk, walk, walk. Ah! These boots were not made for walking, that is for certain. So on Saturday, I went to the Toronto Island with a friend,it was lovely, but lots of walking. And then in the evening met up with some other friends to have dinner and then participate in the wonderful artsy world of Nuit Blanche, also, too much walking. Needless to say, this morning I have shin splints, blisters, and I swear there's something wrong with my joints, specifically in my knees and hips.

I'm getting old. Oh god. This is what it feels like.

On a positive note, on Friday night I thoroughly enjoyed a bottle of wine appropriately purchased for me:
Cat Pee On a Gooseberry Bush. In my case it should really be more like 'Cat Pee on My Dirty Clothes," but that my friends is a whole other story...

...Facebook, the new obsession...

Ok, we all know that Facebook is the newest obsession. We waste precious time...I mean, do we really need another excuse to stay inside? (As a newly transformed cat lady, I especially love Facebook for this feature).

I found this video on one of my Facebook friends' pages.

Ironic, really.

But hilarious.

...I am the cat-lady...

It's official. I live in an attic and it even comes with it's own cat. How can I not become a certified cat lady? It's inevitable. I mean, why fight it? I'm going to stop going out altogether and only drink tea. I'll cook scones. I had a friend over for lunch and she brought me homemade raspberry jam. See, I'm already on my way - except for the 'friend part.' I'll have to ditch her and make the raspberry jam myself, but do that and I'm well on my way. I'm going to start drinking wine before bed and reading poetry, and Virginia Woolf. And knitting. I'm going to have to take up knitting. Everyone's getting a scarf for Christmas...

Sure, it's funny now. But what if the cat has kittens?


The cat's name is Smudge, due to the smudgy nature of her fur. It's almost as creative as the names I used to give to my pets when I was a kid (Hampstey the Hampster, Goldie the Goldfish, Blackie the Black Guppie Fish...). Smudge loves me. She doesn't particularly love being petted, but she does love to forcefully rub her head against you (of her own accord) and then lick you repeatedly. At first it's a little unnerving. Actually, it stays that way. But I'm beginning to accept Smudge for who she is. She's a bit traumatized after living in the attic for months alone. She's afraid of the new dog and has lived in isolation ever since. She's sweet, but a little psycho. Finally, a cat I can relate to.


I've got an antique trunk. And bamboo. Just wait until I tell you about the bamboo! Boy did I get a deal!

So I was looking for something to help me divide my bedroom area from the rest of the room, and I came across a giant roll of bamboo fence in a home accents store. It was on clearance because it had been used as a display in the store. They told me it was 12 feet in length. They lied. It's waaaay longer than that (note the excess rollin the right-hand side of above photo). So far, I've made 2 dividers, 1 blind...and who knows what else will become bamboo-rifique in a few weeks. Clearly, bargain bamboo is exciting for a newly converted cat-lady.


So if you ignore the mess (which I highly advise) and maybe if you squint a bit, you'll get a view of what the attic could be. Eventually it will be beautiful. And the shag carpet....well, it just makes me feel at home, without actually being there. (seriously, will I ever escape shag carpeting?).


And of course, we have the sink. It's nestled in the corner near the 'tea corner' (the one with the antique trunk...which incidentally also makes me feel at home). Ignore the clutter, ignore the dirt. I haven't cleaned yet. I can't wait for that. No, I'm serious.



So that's it! I'm looking forward to moving in more permanently around October 19th. Between then and now I have to head back to Toronto, transcribe another 6 hours of interviews (I've calculated that it takes me about half an hour to transcribe 10 mins. of interview), fly out to Halifax, attend a wedding, fly back home, and then move out to Peterborough. Oh yes, and celebrate Thanksgiving.

Next stop: Turkeys (Turkies?) Something's just not right...

Happy trails!

...je ne comprend pas...

Alright, so as we know, I am probably not the most observant individual out there, so it took me a while to notice this. But when I did, it scared the crap out of me. Who does this??

In case you're having trouble seeing, the tree has grown a face, complete with mossy eyelids. You know, to make it more believable that the tree in my neighbour's front yard has be come a cognizant being.

I was taking out the trash one night, and I happened to look to my right on the way back to the house, and I nearly jumped out of my skin when I noticed the Treeman. I'd probably been home for about 2 weeks and not noticed a thing. Apparently, you only notice on dark, starless nights, where you pee a little bit in your pants upon sighting.

Don't worry, I did laundry.

Special, don't you think?

In other news: Cam says my border thing at the top of the blog is too big. I know, I know, but it's a long story in imperfection, and I'd prefer not to talk about it. I'll see what I can do.

I'm in Peterborough this weekend, scoping out 'the attic.' I can't wait!