The day of the mother!

Ok, because I start classes this week, I couldn't get out to the mainland to day to fete my mother like she deserves, and my parents are socially useless on Sundays anyways, so last Thursday, having lied to my mother about when classes actually start so that she wouldn't suspect nothing, I got up early and caught a myriad of buses and the ferry and was picked up by my dad and sister who had also lied to my mother about where they were going. Une surprise!!

But because mothers are busy people, most of the Great Mother's Day adventure involved me hanging out with boo, and watching Project Runway with mom when she had a minute.

Also, making my famous brownies-that-have-cookie-dough-in-them for her and then helping her eat them. In the process, boo and I discovered why we both have crop-circles-of-grease on so many of our shirts (this picture is poor proof, but they're there), and it has to do with using the torso as a third hand when putting the cap back on the Pam.



But the brownies. They were only supposed to be a small batch but then we figured we'd better use the bigger pan, since we were tossing all these cookies (HA! See what I did there?) into the batter, but then we ended up not having enough brownie to cover the cookie dough, so we made a second batch of brownie and schmeared that on too.
.

No pictures of the finished product, because we ate it. And then we went for a run. Behold the evidence! I'm putting my hand in what is not actually a pocket here, to emphasize the fact that WE ARE CLOTHING-TWINS!!!

By which I mean that mom and boo are clothing-twins, since I didn't bring any of my de-fatting gear and had to borrow mom's. Koala is in this picture to make us look thin. We ran around Deer Lake park, and the balance of power seems to have shifted so that instead of boo trying to keep up with me because I am the older sister, I was huffing and puffing to keep up with her, because I am the older sister.

.

And we watched a really depressing hockey game and half of the first season of Arrested Development and went shopping and I bought the same shirt in 3 different colors because they were on for cheap and went to go see a friend of boo's perform (boo did the artwork for her cd, and it's stellar, but I can't find it online anywhere) and watched some more Project Runway and then I came home.

.

The end.

.

Ed. The recipe for the brownies is as follows: Buy a bag of Chipits and make half of the chocolate chip cookie recipe on the back, because it really is the best one. Make your favorite brownie recipe, or whatever one you can find on the internet that has the word 'intense' or 'explosion' or 'best' in it. Grease a 13x9 pan, do not use your midriff to close the Pam because it will leave a crop-circle. Make blobs out of half of the cookie dough (mine were golf-ball-ish sized) and put those in the pan. Flood with brownie batter (if necessary, make more brownie batter). Make blobs of the rest of the cookie dough and put them on top, kind of trying to place them where there isn't already cookie dough beneath, but it doesn't really matter. Also, don't bother trying to smooth down the cookie lumps, everything will flat out in the oven. Cook for 40-ish minutes, or until toothpick inserted etc etc. Cool and eat.

Zzz.

I don't think I'd have planned a huge bbq chez nous for tomorrow AFTER THE 10K RUN if I'd known how wrecked I was going to be after my exam today. This paper/exam block has been more exhausting than any other. Is this what upper-level-undergrad is? Soul-sucking?

Anyways, it's 8:30 and I think I'm allowed to sleep now.

Anatomy of a berfday

So I got up and went to the gym, because berfday or no I still have to run ten K's on Sunday, and a fatter me = brokener knees. So...boo.

But Joel brought me these! I have got to look into getting a real vase so I can stop putting my flowers in that fancy glass I jacked from Red Robin. So yay.

And then I studied Chaucer for eleventy hours, because berfday or no, I still have to write an exam tomorrow. Booo.

But then one of our Perpetual-Bedroom-Ceiling-Spiders made the mistake of crawling onto a side-wall, and I killed it with Joel's moccasin *shhhh* and the other PBCS seems to have died of its own accord, so when I go to bed tonight I won't dream of leggggggs on my face. TRIUMPH!

And then the mail came and my berfday card wasn't in it, because berfday or no, CanadaPost is still run by monkeys a monopoly. Booooo.

But then the sun came out, and I made Chaucer come outside and hang out with me there. He is made of paper and only weighs thirty pounds, so I get to boss him around like this. Wheee!

And then Joel came home and we had to put on grown-up clothes and go to this...dinner...thing...for some project he's doing, because berfday or no, I am a doctor's wife.

.

But I didn't have to cook, so score one for me!

.

But whoever DID cook was a fish-happy moron, so I just had soup, except that the soup was clam chowder, so I just had salad and a biscuit because berfday or no, fishes are gross.

.

But then I went to bed and had exam-mares for the last time this semester....we'll call that one a draw.

.

Overall, I've had worse birthdays, but I've also had ones that didn't involve so much fish and Middle English. But Joel's going to take me whale-watching, so zoot zoot in the end.

Serenadator!!!

Ok, if you haven't heard of Susan Boyle by now, I'd like to know how much rent you pay for that rock you've been living under, and if you aren't totally sick of her by this point then you obviously don't spend as much time trawling teh intarwebs as I do.



But if you're looking for a new little someting to blow your minds, I recommend you check out Shaheen. I know, we are busy people. Please just watch til about the 1:07 mark. Then you may re-affix your jaw to your face, and go on about your day.



For the record, however, my favorite big-voice-small-body is still Bianca Ryan from three years back. This girl could use a stylist who doesn't take her tips from my 7th grade graduation, but she's got CHOPS!

And it was a good time.

What did we do for our anniversary?

We slept in and did not go to the gym, and it was awesome.

Then Joel went to school, because that's what he does. I cleaned the house, which sounds kind of shitty but you know when the messes and piles and stains have become a part of the house, and it's almost a legitimate option to burn the whole thing down and start over? I feel like I've just showered after not having touched water for days.

Then we took our gift cards and went to Boston Pizza to watch playoff hockey. It was like our honeymoon all over again, except with better beer. Also, the Canucks won.

Two and counting

Two years ago today I woke up at six so that someone else could do my hair and make-up and my minions could pack my bags (you guys were such good minions) and I could go get hitched.

One year ago today we were living in Dave and Shari's basement in Abbotsford, going to fishing derbies and food fairs and not knowing if Joel had gotten into med school.

Then Joel graduated...

...and then became a dementor.

Just joking. That dementor part never happened. But he did get into med school, which was a huge relief to us all.

(You can't tell, but that paper says 'You got into med school and may proceed to feel awesome about it.)

Then we moved in with Joel's parents for a few days, and ate all their food and stored all our stuff in their spare room while we went to Mexico.

Then we moved to Mexico, where we ate many sketchy meats and exotic fruits and I turned out to be not as allergic to cats as I had always claimed.

And then Joel turned into Sub-Zero.

Ok, that didn't actually happen either, but we did get to watch a surgery.

And then we moved in with my parents for a few days and ate all their food and rummaged through the stuff we'd been storing in their garage, and threw a bunch of it out.

And then we moved in with an enormous cat in Vancouver.

I know, the picture quality on this one is terrible, but I need you to see how massive this cat is. Also, how tiny our bed was. Joel is not a small man.
.
Joel went to med school for a semester, and I did yet another semester of please-let-this-transfer.
.
Then we went for a bit of a ski.
.
Then we braved the Great Blizzard of New Years Day 2009 (a holdover from the Great Blizzard of Most of Christmas Break 2008) to move to Victoria, where it never snows and is always Christmas.

Now we live at Mile Zero, Beginning of the Known World. I have (almost) finished a full semester of Courses That Will All Apply To My Degree and Joel has (less almost) finished his second semester and first full year of med school. We are settling in and making friends and getting library cards and throwing lavish bbqs on our deck. Also, we have a deck.
.
It has been the longest year, and I mean that in the best way. Here's to longer, better ones to come.

From my Outbox

Dear SparkNotes,

Thx for helping me pass more of my exams than I care to admit.

Luvvvvv, Raych


Dear Blog,

I have an exam this afternoon, but then I have a gap until the next one. I promise that somewhere in that gap, I will write you up the story of how Robyn and I visited many museums. There will be fotos.

Love Raych


Dear Facebook Profile,

I'm sorry I had to change you out of 'Pirate' and back to 'English,' but I had to create an event and I couldn't figure out what you were telling me to do. It is a measure of how long you've been piratized that I still think of events as 'grogfests' and am not entirely sure where to click to see my own profile.

Love Rrrrrrrrrrrrraych

Do you hear them chomping?

These exams are eating my soul.

How to make elaborate treats!

How to make excessively elaborate Easter treats, by Robyn and Rachel.
.

Set aside entire afternoon. You will need it.

.

Don stylish reversible apron.

Or stylish eyesore.

Cream together half a cup each of the following things: margarine, peanut butter, white sugar, brown sugar. Toss in an egg. Also, half a teaspoon vanilla, one and a quarter cups flour, three-quarters teaspoon baking soda, and a half-teaspoon salt. Mash together but good, throw in fridge until later.

.

Toss coconut into oven. Crank oven up to arbitrary heat, because you think you know what you're doing. Turn away for a split second too long. Remove burnt coconut from oven.

Doff aprons, run to store to pick up more coconut. Toast properly this time (at, like, 275, checking and stirring every few minutes).

Pull peanut butter dough out of fridge. Roll into balls, toss in greased mini muffin tins.

Bake at 325 for 16 mins. Take out and IMMEDIATELY squish down with measuring spoon or melon baller or something suitably round-backed, to make delicious cookie cups. Let cool five more minutes, then pop out of pans.

Take deep breath and prepare to be freaked out. Throw a cup of butter, a half cup of corn syrup (corn oil won't do), two cups of brown sugar and a teaspoon of salt into a pot. Bring to a boil, stirring.

STOP STIRRING! Allow to boil WITHOUT STIRRING for five minutes. This will go against any basic kitchen instinct that you have. You will have minor heart palpitations. You will hope that you can still salvage the pot after you get THIS MESS out of it.

Realize that nothing bad has happened, sigh of relief prematurely. Remove caramel from heat. Add a teaspoon of vanilla extract and a half teaspoon of baking soda. Let out a little screamlet because you forgot that this causes fizzing. Stir to combine.

.

Set up an assembly line of your cookie cups, caramel, and coconut (only dip out a bit of caramel at a time, as it will cool within MINUTES and this will take you a lot longer than minutes).

Dip rim of cup in caramel, then in coconut. Poof! A nest.

Fill nest with caramel, add mini-eggs (the micro-mini eggs work particularly well).

Stand back and observe your opus.

Look smug, and then share, because you will have MANY of them.

Robyn and Rachel have a Rumpus, part I

Hello chatzlings! As promised, Robyn came to visit and we had a rumpus. If we are FBF's, then you've probably seen photos and know that most of what we did was feed the bunns. But we did other things, and since all I'll be doing for the next 3 weeks is studying, I figure I'll spread our adventures out. Also, more posts = more pictures.

SO!

On Monday I went to school to look over my papers one last time before deciding that I didn't care any more and handing them in as-was. I may regret this when the marks roll in, but my brain was broken and my eyeballs felt like sand.

Robyn showed up around noon and we drove downtown to walk along the water and smell the waffles and generally remark on how beautiful Victoria is and what idiots the drivers are and how downtown doesn't look like a downtown at all, and why is this sign here?

We went into the Parliament Building, which was mostly full of perturbing signs and doors that said Do Not Enter. Also much Canadiana.

We checked out Russel Books and found this whole wall of General Fiction that I've never noticed before, distracted as I was by the OTHER wall of General Fiction on the other side of the store. Trust me to miss something this massive.

We snagged a bag of baby carrots and went to feed the UVic bunns (in a blatant flout of the many signs advising us not to). Things started slow, with a lone interested bunn, but pretty soon word got out and we were swarmed.

Excuse the darkness of photos. Dusk is prime bunn-time.

And then it got full-dark and then there were mosquitos and then we went home. Stay tuned tomorrow (or the next day! Or, you know, whenever) for the Day of Many Museums, or How to Make Elaborate Easter Treats, or something else!!!

It's like I'm in two places at once.

Guten tag, mes amis! While I was over here writing papers, another article I writ flew into the intersphere. I wish for all the world I could take credit for the title, 'Joaquin a Fine Line', but I would be a lying dirty bastard. Kind of like Joaquin.

What I actually do all day

While I'm over here puzzling out representations of the polymorphous body in 16th century literature, you guys can all go check out my new hero. Now even the aurally-impaired can enjoy everyone's favorite crazy ex-Mouseketeer.

(September, this is mostly for you.)

A nibble to get you through the weekend.

I know. I know! I pretty well am a food blog these days, except not one of those awesome ones that posts regularly and with recipes and pictures of the step-by-step process and a witty commentary and so on. But other than make tasty treats, I've pretty well just been writing papers for the last six days (two due yesterday, two due this coming Monday).

.

Next week I will have many interesting things to post. Robyn is coming for a visit, and we will get up to all kinds of mischief.

.

Until then, enjoy these pictures of times when I am a genius (i.e. put cookie dough into brownie batter):

times when I am predictable (i.e. make cinnamon buns because they are impossible to make wrongly):

and times when I exhibit how little I know about working with cream cheese (i.e. make undercooked brownies topped with delicious runny goop, which I totally saw as not one of my shiningest hours, but which one of Joel's classmates said were one of the BEST THINGS SHE HAD EATEN IN LIFE! So.).

Busy little dobby.

Our house troll elf mows the lawn every three or four days. I mean, I know it's spring and all now, but it's been spring for maybe twenty minutes. The grass is not, how you say, long.

He also gardens meticulously, and washes his car a lot. He's like a retired person.

This would be easier if I were schizophrenic.

It is Wrath of Papers week o'er here, and I have approximately 8000 words due in the next 8 days. I'm trying to convince myself that the one is due Monday so that I can get it over and done and tackle the next one (both these are due Thursday, and then the other two are due the following Monday).

But some part of me knows that the other part of me is lying, and that I have no papers due Monday. That part of me has spent the last half hour adding food pr0n blogs to my bloglines. And coveting.

Let the rumpus begin!

Have you seen the trailer for Where the Wild Things Are? If you have raging PMS, it will make you shed nostalgic tears.

More cultcha!

Sometimes watching The Daily Show = research, and it's then that I love my job.

Almost caramel corn

Attention everyone:

Corn oil ≠ corn syrup, and if you try to make home-made caramel corn using the former in place of the latter, your sugar will not caramelize and you will end up with sugar-coated corn. Which, while delicious, is not what you were after.

The theory of Approximate-Is-Good-Enough fails again.

Happy Clovers and Other Green Things Day

Because I am not a domestic goddess.

I was making cream of broccoli/cauliflower soup, and when I got to the put-in-blender-in-tiny-amounts-and-blend stage, I hit the spew-all-over-counter button instead of the gently-puree button. Now I have boiling-soup-burns on my wrist and my collerbones. Good thing I wore long sleeves.

In which I forget the punchline.

Since everyone on the island listens exclusively to CCR and Sarah McLaughlin, Joel and I have resorted to internet radio, which is actually kind of awesome. Since YahooRadio refused to honor its 'Never Play Again' button, we've switched to aol radio, which has way better categories anyways.

Do I feel like hearing Bed of Roses every half hour? Rock Ballads it is.

Do I only want to listen to Dave Matthews ALL DAY? They have a channel for that.

They also have a channel for Rock Cover Songs, which is all I can listen to these days. Johnny Cash covering NIN songs, Social Distortion covering Johnny Cash songs, myriads of rock bands remaking Britney Spears songs, and a version of I Kissed A Girl that wasn't completely wretched (side rant: if I ever ran into Katie Perry in real life, I would punch her dead in the face. This is not a euphemism for me saying something cutting about how she tries too hard and how she's the poor man's Lily Allen and how the video of her falling all over herself cheers me up when I'm blue [although I would probably say all these things, too], but I would actually punch her in the face. And then she would slice me open with one of her stilettos, and I would have to get stitches and probably couldn't even sue her because I'd started it, but it'd be worth it).

What was I talking about? Cover songs. I totally had a point when I started this post, but Katie Perry ruins everything.

::thought-train derailed::

Oh the huge manatee!

Ok, things get stolen from me a lot and I know I'm really negligent and would always rather chance something getting stolen then actually PUT IT SOMEWHERE SAFE but shit, man. My boots!

So, I have these black boots that I don't think I have a picture of anywhere that boo gave me when she bought herself some Expensive Sexy Boots (which I totally appreciated, despite all the disparaging things I'm about to say), and they were cheap(ish) and kind of piratey and pretty well fell apart after maybe a month, and the soles were like paper towels and I couldn't even step on be-dewed concrete without them soaking up all the moisture and they totally refused to dry out even after weeks of being by the radiator and they always smelled like mold and if I wore them for five or six hours, they made the sides of my feets all tender and raw.

THAT BEING SAID, they were my boots. What with yesterday's snow and today's -weather and all the -weather proposed for the next week, it would seem that winter's not done with us yet. Boots are a BOON when you want another layer or two hugging the old calves.

Which is why I am so PISSED that someone jacked them from the gym locker room. I have a locker, but it fits my backpack and my purse OR my backpack and my boots. I think I made the right call on this one. Anyway, it's not like I leave them lying around on the benches like everyone in the yoga class (srsly, more clothes than I own were scattered hither and yon today). I tuck them away up on top of the lockers where you can hardly see them. Also I tuck my socks there, and that's how I know the boots were stolen and not just mislaid. The socks were secreted away in one of the day-lockers, like a kidnapped child's teddy bear (too much?).

.

AND NOTHING GETS STOLEN FROM THAT LOCKER ROOM! Ever. The guys at the front desk were all, This is our first theft! How exciting for them.

.

And then on top of that, I had no choice but to head home in my tennis shoes. I am no fan of jeans and tennis shoes, me. If that's your deal, fine. I have been known to wear this gorgeous turquoise dress I have as a shirt, and hink part of it into a hair-tie so that it isn't quite so long, but then I have a side-tail. What I'm saying is, we all have our fashion quirks. But my tennis shoes are white and look kind of awesome with shorts, and my jeans are straight-legged and look fabulous with flats or, say, boots. But when paired with the jeans, the shoes look a bit smooth and glowey, and when paired with the shoes, the jeans look a bit pegged. I mean, ok. Here:

Does that not look douchey to you? The answer is yes. Someone not only stole my boots, but they forced me to look douchey all the way home.

.

*snarls*

More Things at Which I Suck, Vol. 229

You may recall that I suck at things, like running errands or giving blood. I am also bad at watching movies (as is Joel, by proxy).

Par example, a few months ago Joel and I wanted to watch Get Smart (online, because we're cheap like that), so we went to his favorite illegal-doings site and downloaded, not Get Smart, but Get Smart's Bruce and Lloyd Out of Control. Which, ok, was kind of hilarious. Some weeks ago, we finally got around to watching Get Smart, but the website only lets you watch 70 minutes or so at a time, so we had to watch in installments. Maddening.

Two weekends ago we went to a James Bond double-header, which was unfortunate in myriad ways. Casino Royale was first, which a) is the better one and b) I've already seen, so I could have slept through it with impunity. Quantum of Solace was, as I'm sure you're aware, much less good, and therefore harder to watch after three-odd hours of theater-movie-watching (you're kind of cold, your ass hurts, you can't get horizontal enough, there's nowhere to put your feet, and the guy next to you smells TERRIBLE). Also, we'd snuck in some Fuze Green Tea Healthy Infusion, which we'd bought on sale for cheap. Because it tastes like horse and sidewalk.

Last weekend we watched The Happening which has Marky Mark wearing a mood ring, saying 'duh,' and married to Zooey Deschanel like he's trying to pretend he's not pushing 40. Also, the movie resolves in much the same way War of the Worlds did, in that it doesn't resolve at all. It will freak your shit out in parts, though, and I would not have watched it had it not been broad daylight.

This will eventually lead to very low self-esteem

Hey, check-a me out! I say stuff.

Also, remember how last semester I would bus out to Burnaby every Wednesday, hit the Walmart hard, watch America's Next Top Model with my sisters-in-law and several bottles of wine, drunk-transit home with my groceries, and then take a semi-sober quiz online for my lame linguistics class?

How things have changed. Now on Wednesdays I go play squash at school, swing by the house to pick up some edibles, whip up dinner for some of Joel's classmates in exchange for their cable and company, and then we all watch Top Model and freely criticize taller, thinner bodies than ours, and make fun of the girl with the epilepsy.

Tyra Banks is my only constant in life.

Not so smart as my phone

Ok, so I took some wicked photos of the UVic bunns the other day (When will she shut up about the bunnies? Ok look. You spend an hour and a half wading through the Parson's Tale in Middle English, and then come out into sunshine and Thumpers and then you shut up about the bunnies) and now I can't get them off of my phone. You will have to imagine.

So there's bunnies, and they're fighting over a carrot, and I get down low to take a picture of them fighting over the carrot, and one of them runs over because he thinks my phone is food, and I get a picture down his nose.

Hilarious!

So now I'm headed home, and on the way I'm all, How many other bunns can I get to think my phone is food?

One. I know, totally anticlimactic. But by this point I was getting to the outer reaches of campus, where all the chary bunns live. Srsly though, these pictures are to smooch. How for can I not get them off my phone? This is ridiculous. What if I'm in the mall and a dog wanders in again (not a word of a lie, if I could send a camera-phone back in time so that I had something to document that mall-walking dog...)?

Maybe I will bluetooth them to Joel's laptop.

Things that I am fond of that are called 'squash'

We are just exiting the season of winter squash, so it sort of feels weird to be blogging about this now. But there are all kinds of things one can do with squash (most of the best things involve roasting), and also I'm starving. There is a small, raw squash sitting on the windowsill and I could probably eat it as is.

In other news, Joel and I have started playing squash. The game. With the tiny black ball, that you hit at the wall really hard. It involves a great deal of running around, more lunging than I'm comfortable with, and (when I play) a whole lot of swearing.

My dad used to play squash (obviously*), and gave me his old racquet, so I feel superbadasscore. Due to all the lunging involved, I have a fine Squash Ass (that is to say, a firm, sore one), and I hit the ball more than I miss it now. I have this sick move where, because I have a terrible backhand, sometimes I'll switch to my left hand at the last second. People who don't know my reasons for why are always really impressed when I do this.

*'Obviously' because he went to college in the 70s. 'Let's check our entrance list here, Mr Plett. Owns at least one pair of indecently short shorts? Check. Plays squash? Check. Can play guitar while strolling the grounds? Check. Looks like you're in, young man.'

Here come the saddlebags!

Poor little blog! I have abandonmented you! But I have been very, very busy.

I mean, first there was Superbowl, which isn't complete without little chocolate-mint-cookie-sandwiches shaped like footballs

and also a football-field bean dip.

And then I made a flan, but not like that time Robyn and I made a low-fat flan (and it was basically a caramel-covered omelette). This was a full-fat flan, and it was delicious.

And then it was Valentine's Day and I made cookies for Joel's class

And then I lapsed into a diabetic coma. But when I came to, I whipped up some individual-sized key lime pies

and then the World's Most Time-Consuming Bars (the recipe for which here, and which were TOTALLY worth the eleventy-one steps)

and also some two-bite brownies (for which no picture, since they look exactly like the ones you buy in the store EXCEPT that the ones you buy in the store don't have a Rolo wedged in the middle).

Also, I learned to play squash.

My paper will write itself while I dither on over here

Those of you lucky enough to be my Facebook BFFs (or FBFFs) may remember that time boo took that awesome, mascara-ridden, seen-my-own-death picture of me and I had it as my profile picture for ages.

And then someone took a terribly un-flattering picture of boo, and she photoshopped the two together to make this piece of deliciousness:

Womb-twins! Anyway, sometimes boo and I will put up the same profile picture so that when we facebook-chat, it looks like one of us is DOMINATING the conversation while the other one is conspicuously silent. I know, hilarious. ANYway, me and boo and Robyn were all facebook-chatting, and we were all, Wouldn't it be funny if we all THREE of us had the same profile picture? Let's find a picture with all of us in it. Isn't any? Let's (by 's I mean boo) photoshop Robyn into a picture of me and boo.

Presto!

My small bird has become a small blue fish. The wonders of technology.

In Which My School Is Ubiquitous, and I Have a Potentially Inappropriate Opinion

Peoples! My school is all OVER the intarwebs these days! By which I mean, in two places.

Firstly, go here to check out our infestation of buns. Seriously, these snuggly wumpkins are everywhere! The day I walk out of class, see a galloping bun and don't think *ahhhhhn* I want to be taken out back and shot.

And then go here to see the unnecessary quotes that I walk by on my way to the changeroom where No One is Ever Naked.

Can we talk about this? Have I been back long enough, or is my second post-haitus-post too soon to be discussing nudity? Because NO ONE IS EVER NAKED IN VICTORIA! And I know, this is not a big deal. But it took me a long time to feel comfortable walking around a changeroom in just my skin, and I'll be damned if this school full of prudes takes that away from me.

So, back when I was going to UBC and swimming all the time in the pool with all the seniors, the changeroom would be full of nakedness both because a.) it's way easier to just shower and then waltz over to your locker without having to swaddle all the time, and b.) seniors, who are the secret nudists. It was weeks before I was comfortable joining in the nude-party, and weeks more before I was ok with having naked-conversations with my favorite old Chinese lady, who always came in just as I was pulling clothes from my locker. (Side note: one time I was late, and I came in just after she came in, and I was all, Hi! And she was all, Oh! I didn't recognise you with clothes on [!]. Also, she referred to my swimsuit as my 'bathing costume.' I wanted to take her home.)

So now I'm at UVic, and its as though we're in high school again. Everyone comes back from the shower carrying their gym clothes, and wrapped in a towel under which they will dress. Which, fine. If they want to do all that extra work, it's no skin off my nose. BUT I'M STARTING TO FEEL SELF-CONSCIOUS!

This isn't actually going anywhere. I've sort of just been storing this up in my mind for the past few weeks, and I needed someone to tell me that yes, this is weird. Maybe it's the lack of seniors, or the overall youth of UVic students. Maybe it has to do with the infestation of buns. I don't know.

Rrrrrrrrrreturnment!

Other blog! Hello, you. I know, once my computer went down I never even fake-updated you from Joel's laptop, and even after I got a new(ish) one, I've sort of been ignoring you. But I have a paper to write, and as per usual, I've come to you to kill some time.

SO! What has happened since we last chatted? The dishwasher repairman came, and I almost offered him my first-born. Our dishwasher here is the He-man of dishwashers. I don't pre-rinse nothing.

Um...Joel had his birthday, and I bought him a George Forman Grill (among other things) and now I can't stop grilling sandwiches. Seriously, EVERYTHING tastes better grilled. Also, it squanches the bread down if you have tall bread, and makes the whole thing easier to eat. Also, it melts your cheese. The other day I made grilled garlic toasts, and they were nommable.

School is going well. I have one prof for 2 classes, and I find out after this that he's a bit of an arbitrary marker, so I submitted my first assignment with fear and trepidation because I knew that whatever mark I got on that would be the final grade I'd be getting in both classes. One assignment from each class and two identical marks later, I'm feeling ok about things.

I am writing a paper.

Did I mention that our car broke down? So, the car broke down and then Joel replaced some things and then it ran like the wind, and then we had to go to this conference in Calgary and we offered this other girl a ride to the airport, and about eight seconds before we were supposed to leave, the car broke down again. So Joel ran all over the map buying new parts and replacing them, and Asia and I looked up bus routes only to find that we'd already missed the last bus to the airport (we will talk about the Victoria transit system later, but for now know that I am unimpressed), and so we had to Phone a Friend and beg for a ride there. We got back from Calgary a few days later at around 7 pm, only to discover that the last bus from the airport to the Park 'n' Ride (where another bus would take us to another bus, which would take us home) had already left. WTF? Planes come in later than 7 all the time. H'anyvays, we were going to walk the half hour or so to the Park 'n' Ride, but some guy saw us trucking along the highway with all of our bags in tow, and picked us up, and THEN drove us all the way home. To our house. Zoot!

UVic is overrun with bunnies. Seriously, this will never get old. I come out of class...bunnies! I come out of the library...bunnies! I walk to the bus stop...bunnies! They are so tame, you could pet one (or punt one, as your preferences lie).

UVic has 4 microwaves on the entire campus, and they are all in one place. Which means that if I'm at Point A and want to microwave my soup before my class at Point B, I have to go to Point X. UVic kind of makes no sense.

UVic is a microcosm of Victoria, which also makes no sense. The roads change names every three blocks, and change direction every five. The roadmaps look less like spiderwebs and more like piles of silly string. I...am unimpressed.

The weather continues to be impressive. It has rained two days out of the twenty-seven that we have lived here, and then this morning it snowed for an hour and has been sunny ever since. I anticipate spring coming in eight seconds or so.

September, this was for you.

Enviro-friendly fail

For the first time EVER in our four days here, Victoria has let us down. Joel and I drove to the nearest Superstore to do our re-stock-the-house Big Shop (meat, condiments, razor blade re-fills, all the expensive stuff), and forgot to bring our selection of re-usable bags, which we definitely have because we're, like, totally all about the environment and stuff. You know who else is totally all about the environment? The city of Victoria!! So much so that their Superstore doesn't even OFFER plastic bags. Which we found out after we'd dragged our overflowing cart and two handbaskets full of carefully-chosen foodstuffs to the counter.

And ok, I understand. If you don't have plastic bags, people have to bring their own bags, and the Earth will be so happy with you that it will let you get to second base. I get it! But it was SO MUCH WORK loading every single item back into our cart, and then into our trunk, and then out of the trunk into a pile on the kitchen floor.

The upshot of all this is that we will never.make.this mistake.again.

I may never leave

HA! It's blizzarding where you are, innit? Wish you were here, don't you? In the Land of Eternal Summer? At Mile 0, where it's never snowing and always Christmas?

Where wild bunns snorfle your hands?

Where the manager of the Boston Pizza gives you free toques, just 'cause?

Friends, you should all come visit. We will barbecue on our deck. It's warm(ish) out.

More adventures! Or, We move to Victoria!

12:49 a.m., January 1, 2009 - Leave New Year's party to find 3 inches of fresh snow on car. Scoff, assuming that it will blow away in the night and that we'll be left to move to Victoria in peace.

7:02 - awake to find 3 MORE inches of fresh snow. Gnash teeth.

7:37 - get stuck getting out of driveway. Am an excellent car-pusher.

8:22 - are told by friendly talk radio several times not to be on roads unless strictly necessary. Are told that driving conditions are slippery and frozen east of the bridge, and slippery and frozen west of the bridge. Are on roads, must cross bridge.

9:45 - are still on roads. Longest Chilliwack-to-Vancouver jaunt in history.

10:02 - are throwing last-minute, uncategorizable items into last-minute boxes. Will end up with approximately six 'last-minute' boxes.

10:58 - run out of paper towels. Lone rag used to clean remaining quarter of house. Results largely satisfactory.

11:34 - truck is packed. House is cleaned. Keys are dropped into mail slot.

12:05 - make ferry in good time. Eyeball mounds of gelato, eat food brought from home.

12:45 - boarding begins for 1:00 ferry.

12:46 - hybrid in front of us fails to start due to dead battery.

12:48 - feel severe Good Samaritan guilt, offer to help dead hybrid.

12:54 - hybrid starts.

12:58 - are one of last cars onto ferry.

2:03 - arrive in Schwartz Bay.

2:28 - arrive in Victoria, land of Eternal Summer. Distinct lack of snow on ground.

2:31 - unexplicable box spring takes up half of living room. Moving in commences around box spring.

5:09 - last box is brought in.

5:10 - order pizza from dangerously-close Dominos.

5:37 - unpacking commences.

8:48 - trot over to Starbucks for a pick-me-up.

10:18 - as much unpacking as can be done (due to unfinished nature of house) is done.

10:21 - watch Aladdin.

10:54 - pick-me-up fails, Aladdin fails. Fall into freshly-made bed.