Friends and Friends of Friends' Friends.

Hey kids. I survived Christmas. Did you? It's all downhill grubbing from here.
My aunt and uncle are staying at this wahoo little cabin on the shoreline, not far from here. Christmas Eve they suggested we all go on this carriage ride thing, through the cabin company. So halfway through this carriage ride packed with cabin dwellers and a few couples staying at Tigh Na Mara in their ritzy family jewels the horses start trotting a little too quickly for comfort. Suddenly the wagon is banging along full tilt and the larger of the horses is sticking out sideways from the hitching or whatever. Suddenly we have gone over the curb into the shallow ditch full of big rocks and the half the ladies (including my mother) are sitting on the floor sucking air through their teeth. The women driving the wagon said they steered the horses toward something that they couldn't run through (in this case a big black hedge) so that they would be forced to stop. All this in about 4 minutes.And somebody's grandmother gets off immediately and starts hiking back to her resort, swearing and shaking all over. Good appetite after that.
Here's a pair of pilleated woodpeckers. They take turns

I was poor in love, I was poor in wealth, I was rich in evrything else

I think I'm beginning the slow descent into obesity, more like. Doesn't help that my mom made like 7 batches of cookies and then hid them. Periodically she pulls them out and says "ALLLLLLRIIIIIIGHT who wants a cookie??" (that woman is small but man can she project) and then we all grab a few.

Also been going for a minor hike everyday. Today we went to the old Morecroft camp, which used to be a Church-run kids camp and is now a regional park. Which means that they had to take out the massive cross that used to be right on the cliff face. Place still spooks me right out though. All these ancient cabins with the same curtains that they had 10 years ago. All looking at you through the trees, leery. I feel like something really bad happened there in the past. Even though all those ideas probably come from the ghost stories Abby's older sister told us when we were camping there in grade 3, in our mildewed sleeping bags in a cabin with no actual windows, just these canvas flap things that you closed up at night. That's a photo I took up there.
Tomorrow is Top Bridge. Former site of an actual bridge at sometime in the settlement era. Now lieu of a crappy metal suspension bridge and a pile of empties. In the summer, 14 year olds do back flips off the nose into Englishman River. That's probably how the English- man died, hey?

Mankind soon disposed of the large, the slow, and the tasty

Courtesy of Campaign Staff: Ryan Gosling.

A VERY IMPORTANT E-MAIL got moved into my junk folder, for some inexplicable reason. Luckily, a crisis was averted through Facebook. As addicting as social media is, it can occasionally come through in spades.

Um. Life continues on in The Great White North. My brother, mother, and myself all went snowshoeing today and found a gigantic spruce tree to shed needles all over our floor. I plan on topping it with a dead squirrel, no joke. Tomorrow, I'll be skiing with a grumpy 70-something Czech man, who was once a X-country coach. There will be yelling. There will be expletives, and some "Laura! You ski like a...like a...you ski like a STUPID!" So much for any silent, healing communion with nature. Also, I'll be looking after upwards of 30 sled dogs come Boxing Day. Excellent.

I know how you feel about the sleep thing. I'm just beginning to come out of hibernation, it's crazy. When I'm back in Vic and have a Dog, hopefully, we should begin running again. If I don't bump up the level of physical activity this semester, I'll slowly descend into some mild form of insanity.

For those of you intrigued by the photo up top, here is another Ryan Gosling Campaign Quote. If you happen to be under the age of 18, or are just naturally prudish, stop reading now.

"Hey, girl. I wish you were this three-week old data, so I could spend all night entering you."

Update on my Inner Workings.

Slept 12 hours last night. And then today I had an hour long nap. Somethings up with my body. I think its hibernation time. Plus its been hurting me.



Sold My Only Guitar

The photographer that took this is 20 years old, living in Brooklyn. Haven't been doing much of anything really. Been bloated and looking on picture blogs and all that. reading books. made soup for dinner this evening. took a picture of a woodpecker yesterday. Finished reading Fight Club. Ate a crap lot of chocolate at the Sabo residence, patted her dog. Found this. 

Which is Roald Dahl and Ernest Heminway. I'm feeling antisocial but my house is small and full. So.

And Laura you are listening to the Zolas. WE KISSED IN THE SNOOOOOoooOOOOOW. right?

Listening to The Zoolas on CBC, singing about snow. Check out this cabin roof.

There is a moose roast in the oven, and a husky wandering around the room, sniffing hopefully at the oven door. My brother is trying to feed her pistachio nuts. Snow has been falling steadily here all day, and everything is blanketed in a soft white layer. Went X-country skiing yesterday and took an epic tumble into a snowbank, ended up with my feet in the air, totally buried. This town makes me feel odd. A little uncomfortable. I got your letter, Sarah C., and appreciated the anecdote about Tiffany and her feline friends. She is a lucky bunny. I hope that all of you are drinking copious amounts of tea and have time to take the occasional nap.

When I Was 25.

So there they are... as far as I can think of anyway. Top ten albums of 2011. T'was a very good year for blue blooded girls of independent means (they ride in limousines... their chauffeurs drive.) As frank would say. Anyway I got home last night. I am currently watching the sun slowly illuminate the field. My dad built this weird pole thing in the backyard with a wooden platform on top for bird food. Little guys love it. there's even a rope dangling down in case they fall off or something. Plans for the day: unpack/ reposition my furniture because my room feels big and empty. Figure out a way to make my bed feel less like a sheet of ply wood and more like something you would want to sleep on. Wash my hair. Pay my phone bill (maybe). Go to a Christmas party and invariably listen to Michael Buble's Christmas, then James Taylor, then something from the 80s. Cluster around the food table with my friends and discuss how drunk our parents are acting. Go home and sleep.

Last day in Victoria and I'm dragging my heels. We were supposed to go for breakfast but I feel like considering it is now ten thirty and the roommates are still snoozing... its not gonna happen. So I'mma go ahead and pour myself a yoghurt and granola. Had a man named George in my room a couple of nights ago, examining every surface. He invited me to write for his culture 'zine that he's starting up with some cross-continental friends. I feel like he may be the type of person to implement that kind of thing, for real.

Here is an embroidered face. It is by a man named Daniel Kornrumpf. They are having a CD blowout at the library. Then I went to ditch. I returned home with two books and ten CDs in my bag. Anyway. Gotta move.

One Leaves a World Behind.

When I was at Witty's Lagoon with the fire and the dog, we were sitting hunched in this little nook created by tree roots and erosion, trying to warm ourselves around the fire. Marketa commented on how humans used to live. Keeping the fire going all day and waiting for the return of the men after the hunt. I groaned and said something like "that would have sucked." and she said that it was better than before we had fire. Eating raw meat all the time, for every meal. Being cold and scurvied. I guess we have come a long way to carpet and central heating.
Sabo drank a bottle and a half of wine last night and has spent the day watching all 17 hours or so of My Fair Lady on VHS. I drank 2 beers and was only slightly less drunk, shows what giving blood does to a person. Someone's boyfriend kept touching my arm, my back, my ribcage. Saying things like "We gingers have to stick together." while I replied with things like, "the thing about gingers dating is that everyone always thinks they are related." Which is true. No way am I dating someone who looks like my Kissing Cousin, especially if he is shorter than me and someone else's boyfriend. Especially if he makes me touch his facial hair.
Despite popular belief theatre parties are not fun. Everyone is relatively antisocial and just wants to yell things and take showers with no one noticing.

So right now I am overdue typing up a paper about plants in the artwork of Leonardo da Vinci. Back when the artists were the scientists. If you type" Leda and the Swan" into google images you come up with some prettynasty sex. This is the one that I am talking about though.  

they got the skill and the talent

Spent the afternoon in Witty's Lagoon today. That's what it looked like. We hiked past the Sitting Lady waterfall, with a quick pause to play poo sticks on the bridge. We crossed a flattened log bridge and made it to the beach.

Once we got there we spent about an hour trying to light a fire, taking regular swigs from our water bottles filled with homemade wine, and to pat the dog. We roasted hot dogs and put a baguette on some hot stones. We added swiss cheese which we ate in front of a jealous dog, eyes only seeing swiss. On the way out of our nook I bounced around, trying to return feeling to my frozen and sleeping toes. I looked up and saw

In the car on the way home, we passed  by another lagoon, this one filled with swans and ducks. I haven't seen a swan in a few year and here was more than ten. Marketa talked about Romance and seagulls and her dog snuffled with satisfaction, wiping the sand out of his eyes.
Kat is making spaghetti squash the proper way. And rum and hot apple cider.
I feel like reading books and chewing on something warm.

All the Money I Had Is Gone

Literally boys.
Successfully solved an electrical- related problem today. Would have done my daddy proud. It involved a television that was inexplicably hooked through the wall. Otherwise I have been attempting to edit this cursed paper. It has literally been two months since I started writing this thing and it is still wanting.
Still reading Eugenides.
Got any movies to recommend?

I Laid Eyes on What I'd Found

So there is this Thai artist named Chalermchai Kositpipat who became fed up with not being internationally famous so he started to build this thing called The White Temple in his home town of Wat Rong Khun in the Northwester. Thing is, the town has the population of 350 and he "bought" (or was given by the landlord) a huge swath of farmland to house this place. It is now a number one tourist destination. As a Buddhist he is getting exceptional merit for this and no one is complaining.

He started this is 1997 and is still not finished. He has planned it out so that it will not be finished until after he has died (he is in his late 40s...). The buildings are white stucco on a metal frame, nothing at all organic. The stucco has bits of mirror fragments so that the whole place sparkles in the sunlight.

These are the bathrooms.
Chalermchai has described this as the only place on Earth that the Buddha would want to return to .

Some Boys Are Singing the Blues

Thought I should add an update-o.
Spent the morning putting up fake tree boughs and real pointsettas and Christmas lights at work, while watching children's movies. I often wonder why I am paid.
It just dawned on me that I have an exam tomorrow and there's a pretty good chance that I won't be ace-ing it, seeing as it's one of those exams that you actually have to know things for, you know? Today Youtube got about 8 times more complicated. I liked it back when I knew what I was doing, you know?
Either way-here is a video that is cheery without being too Christmas-y. Enjoy it while it lasts.