Chasing, stretching, grasping

I’m sitting in the airport waiting lounge, with an hour to go before my flight back to Vancouver. I’ll be coming back to Edmonton in August to move into my apartment, get settled, and prepare for school in September. M’s flight took off toward the east coast about an hour ago. Who knows when I’ll see my dear friend again?

As I move from place to place, taking on new adventures in various towns and cities, the overwhelming feeling I have is that I cannot gather all those things and people that are important to me and keep them close. It’s as though I’m collecting flowers by the roadside, and with a gust of wind, the petals disperse, and run as I might, I’ll never gather that armful again. I’m left chasing after something that will never be whole again.

Edmonton will grow into a home of sorts in a few months, and I’ll go about my days scuttling back and forth, to and from classes, spending my evenings and weekends with new friends. And then, in two years’ time, when I graduate from the program and set out to find work once more, I’ll be in the same position of whirling around in the winds of change, feeling lost and helpless.

What does it take to not feel this sense of loss?

I do feel blessed to have had the past five months in Fox Creek, with M there to vent to, to travel with, to bounce ideas off of. I was in the privileged position of having a good friend pick me up at the airport, drive me to that new small town, show me the school and the town. M had forged her way there first, and my adjustment to my new surroundings was made infinitely easier because she was there. I now have more experience under my belt, more varied subjects and students that I’ve taught, more challenges overcome, frustrations conquered.

I received news from Inuvik that a young boy had drowned in the east channel of the Mackenzie River over the weekend. It happens without fail every year or so, a bright future extinguished because of a moment of poor judgment. Although I had never taught him, he was one of the lively characters in town, and he and his mischievous grin were impossible to miss when I sauntered out on the main road. I remember how he was following me around one day after school with his incessant questions. He was a child who, despite his apparent peskiness, would have grown up to be someone wise, a person whom others could trust. There was a kindness and a goodness that shone through, something that maturity would have brought out clear and bright had he been allowed to stay on this earth and flourish.

Part of my heart is still in the North; other parts of me call Vancouver, Edmonton, and even Fox Creek home. I’m stretched over a vast landscape, grasping at wisps in the wind.

In limbo

I've begun my summer vacation! So, has it been days of relaxation, tanning, and shopping? Not exactly....

We've moved out of Fox Creek without a glitch. Cleaned the apartment, had the dream out-inspection (where the apartment was deemed to be pristine and spotless), and drove down to Edmonton. We've been here three full days now, and we're stuck in a rut.

I've looked at an apartment, and put a deposit on it. It should be available any day now, and I'm just waiting for the phone to ring to tell me that it's ready. Of course, I'm the only one in a hurry. The property manager is probably taking her sweet time calling my previous landlords and doing the credit check.

I'm torn: I could either fly home now and come back to move into the apartment later, possibly in August, or I could stay put and wait. There are also other factors involved: M has been here to help me view apartments and shop around for furniture, but she may hit the road soon because these days in hotels cannot possibly stretch on forever. She needs a place to go, which we would have if I could move into my apartment now.

These are some of our bags, hauled all the way from Fox Creek to Edmonton. We have nowhere to haul them to now.... 

Oh, and my new apartment has light pink walls, which I really do not like. They were going to repaint it another hue, but I said I'd take the suite as-is because it would mean an earlier move-in date. I wonder if I should have just taken the August move-in date and gotten the new paint colour....

Ring, phone, ring!!!!!!!!!!

Who's going to assemble my furniture?

It's my last weekend in Fox Creek. The two suitcases I came with are now getting close to full as I'm packing away my stuff, and the cleaning begins tomorrow. On Tuesday, right after work, the property manager will be coming in to do the out-inspection, and then we'll be driving to Edmonton.

There are a few photos of the town that I'd like to post, but that'll have to wait. The memory card I have the pictures on has been packed away already, and I'm not about to fish anything out of my suitcase. The rule right now is, "In good, out bad."

So far, I've booked an appointment to view an apartment on July 1st. I'll book more once I'm in Edmonton. Although I'm guaranteed a spot in residence on campus, I'd really like to steer clear of student-housing if I can help it. The unit I've applied for in residence is less than 300 square-feet, and it does not accept cats. Although my parents have definitely grown fond of my dear Duncan these months (my current apartment here does not take pets either), five months of abandonment is enough to drive me into feeling immense pet-owner guilt. Plus, it doesn't help to get a call telling me that Duncan has managed to dye one of her legs purple while in my parents' care in Vancouver.... (That's for another post altogether!)

On July 2nd, we'll be going to the opening night of The Lion King in Edmonton. After that, who knows.... I may extend my stay in Edmonton to continue the hunt for an apartment, or I might trek across the Rockies to my parents' house to relax a bit before resuming my frantic search.

I'm also debating whether to ship my furniture from Vancouver to Edmonton once I find a place. I had sold most of my stuff when I moved from Inuvik. The only two things I would love to have in Edmonton are my bed and my digital piano. The thought of buying yet another bed or of not having my piano for two years is painful to me at this moment. However, the thought of paying hundreds of dollars to transport two items might prove even more unbearable.

Regardless, I'll have to buy a couch, a table, a desk, a dresser, and other knick-knacks in order to create a new home. (My Fox Creek apartment is furnished and comes with everything I need other than my suitcases of clothes.) The most gnawing question at present -- Who is going to assemble my new furniture? In Inuvik, I could not, for the life of me, figure out how to put anything together. The instructions on how to assemble the futon were cryptic to me, and I literally attempted for weeks before my friend K came to the rescue. My double-dresser wasn't any easier. M and E pitched in and figured it out for me. My "Inuvik Dad" helped with my table and chair set, as well as the digital piano.

I don't have an "Edmonton family" that would swoop in to help me out of sticky situations. I'll be on my own, with only Duncan and her purple paw....

The final countdown

The past week and a half has been a bit disquieting. I've been sick with something like the flu -- started with a sore throat that prevented me from getting any sleep, to feeling stuffed up and sneezy, to coughing up a lung. I'm mostly better, and cannot believe that the school year has come to an end. Senior high classes ended yesterday, and I have just one more junior high class to teach tomorrow. Then comes supervising final exams, cleaning up classrooms, doing the year-end inventory, and finishing up the last report cards.

My summer plans have yet to materialize. I'm not trying very hard to come up with something this year. I've decided to let spontaneity lead me to something amazing, something potentially life-changing.

Here are a few things that have happened this past week-and-a-half:

1. I was asked by the principal to sit on a panel of interviewers for a new teacher. The person we had interviewed was hired, and I honestly think that he'll do incredible things next school year here. There is a deep sincerity about him. I have no doubt that he'll be frustrated with the students and with the school at various points, but his heart will guide him through it all. He's someone the kids will like and respect.

2. Last Thursday, in the midst of my worst flu symptoms, I volunteered to serve at a community dinner to benefit the school's breakfast program. The drama club performed after dinner, and that made it all worth it. One of the little girls came to give me a hug after her performance, and beamed when I told her she was just fantastically awesome on stage, and that she looked beautiful.

3. On Friday, a video that I had made of the school's activities throughout the year "premiered" at the school assembly. Unfortunately, I could not make it, as I was supervising my Grade 12 students in their Social Studies final exam. The principal came to me afterward and said that the video had made her cry, that I had captured the spirit that she wanted the school to have. I've since had numerous requests for copies of my video. I'm flattered, and would spend all those nights and hours tinkering away at video- and sound-editing again in a heartbeat.  (The principal has also asked if that was why I looked so tired all last week. Hmmm.... I didn't know that I wasn't my usual happy self. I blamed it on my flu.)

4. I received an e-mail from a second-year student in the Speech Pathology program in Edmonton. She advised that I should prepare myself for Anatomy class in the fall. Part of it involves working in a cadaver lab. I think I just about fainted when I read that. I'm the girl who could not dissect a frog in Biology class in high school. I avoided Grade 12 Biology like the plague because I knew that dissecting a fetal pig was part of the curriculum. I'm going to get some chicken thighs and debone them this weekend for practice....

This weekend, I'm going to go around town and take some photos (seriously this time!). Although Fox Creek has been my home for only five short little months, I don't want to forget it.

A bridge

This is a trestled railroad bridge that runs over the highway between Whitecourt and Edmonton. I've come to know it well. We drive under it every time we go down to Edmonton for a weekend getaway / shopping trip. 

However, the picture was taken three summers ago, when I was driving from the North toward Saskatchewan during a strange roadtrip, an opportunity to have an extended farewell to a friend who was moving there from Inuvik. Little did I know then that I would become familiar with this stretch of highway just a few years later, and that I would no longer be in the North.

In another month, I'll pass under this bridge once more, toward another phase in my life, toward growing more fully into myself and who I will become.

When you have nothing to do

What to do if you live in a small town, with nowhere to go over the weekend and nothing much to do:

1. Plan to catch up on some sleep. End up staying up late into the night doing practically nothing.

2. Remind yourself how great it feels to be engrossed in a book.

3. Forge on ahead with the French course you've started a while back. Tell yourself to be persistent enough to make it through this time.

4. Gather up the mountain of recycling that's on the floor in the dining room, a mound that has metastasized into a monster that's threatening to take over the whole apartment.

5. Take the recycling to the bottle depot. Have the cans and bottles be blown around in the wind so you can run to retrieve them and get in your weekly exercise to boot.  Remind yourself to never ever take the recycling to the depot on a windy day.

6. Read the flyers. Plan out what to buy on your "Saturday outing."

7. Walk up and down the aisles of the grocery store multiple times, pausing particularly long in the pet food section to examine all the pictures of cats and kittens on the packages.

8. Cook up a mish-mash of found items from the fridge and call it a "stirfry."

9. Figure out how to post larger photos on your blog. Feel accomplished that you manage to do this on your own when your technology IQ is on the low side.

10. Go to the school to play "scoops" and marvel at how this little kids' game could be so difficult.

Transitory

One evening last week, M and I drove to Whitecourt for supper. It had been a particularly frustrating day at work, and felt like a Friday even though it was the middle of the week. We perused the fast-food joints lined up along the highway, and shook our heads at the McDonald's, Dairy Queen, Mary Brown's, KFC, and A&W. We scrunched up our noses at Boston Pizza, having frequented it too often, and finally turned into town and took a shot at a brand new Korean-Japanese restaurant. We had miso soup, juicy fried dumplings, fresh sushi, and bibimbab (a Korean rice dish with veggies and egg). Then, as if that wasn't enough, we went for raspberry-truffle blizzards at Dairy Queen before driving back to Fox Creek, with the evening sun streaming in through the front windshield and blinding our full satiated selves.
 
This past weekend, the plan was to stay home. No Edmonton, no Jasper for us. Our savings had dwindled because of the multitudes of hotel stays we'd racked up since moving here. However, by late morning on Saturday, both of us were going stir-crazy. It was hard to glance out at the open blue sky with nary a cloud in sight and to realize that we had nowhere to go. We ended up driving to Grande Prairie to get an oil-change for the car, to roam around the shopping mall, and to eat Japanese food once more.
 
There are just three more weeks of classes with the senior high students, and then they will have their final exams. The junior high classes run till the end of June. Regardless, time is running out, charging ahead, speeding up from its lazy saunter through the winter and early spring. I've begun asking myself if I'll miss Fox Creek once I'm gone. I don't think I've gotten to know the town and its quirks yet; I have yet to have a favourite haunt here. I don't know the little trails through the woods. In fact, I could still get lost when I'm on foot, since the streets seem circular in this town. I have yet to sort out the "avenues" from the "streets." Whoever designed the street names here was probably set on confusing visitors and temporary residents such as me. There's "3rd Street," "3rd Avenue," "3A Street," and "3rd Avenue NW." I may be exaggerating, but I am seriously confounded.

One thing that I do notice here, more than anywhere else, is the trills of the birds. There are species that I've never heard before, and I absolutely love trying to distinguish them from each other. In the evenings, when my day's work is done and the balcony door is wide open, the sounds of the feathered creatures meld together into the most fascinating symphony. Some places harken visual memories; for other places, it might be scents. For Fox Creek, perhaps what will stay with me years down the line is the auditory feast.

One of those days

Today was just one of those days, when laziness settled over everyone like a fog, and the hours stretched out. It was one of those days when we all found ourselves glancing at the clock too often, counting the minutes until the school bell would ring to signal the end of the day. About half of the high school was missing, off to Valleyview for a track-meet. The half that remained either stayed in bed, knowing full-well the futility of trying to do schoolwork, or else showed up at school with droopy eyes, with heavy feet that dragged along the empty hallways.

I ended up sitting in my classes and chatting with the few students who had come. In between our disjointed conversations, I managed to read a novel from cover to cover. It had been recommended to me by my Grade 10 English student, a boy who did not like reading much. When I see him next week, after he's back from his track-meet, I'll discuss Tex with him, and tell him what my favourite parts of the book are. And, perhaps, I'll recommend a book for him to read.

I'll leave you with some photos of two weekends ago, of beautiful, glorious Jasper. As we drove down the Icefield Parkway, I could feel a sense of wonderment welling up from inside of me. I'd love to live with those snowy mountains surrounding me, enveloping me with their majestic peaks.

Spring break ramblings -- Part one (of maybe just one)

In the last year, I've moved twice, and am now anticipating my third move. Although it is exciting to contemplate new adventures, I'm also sick of this incessant restlessness. The last time somewhere felt like "home" was when I was still in Inuvik. Yesterday, while I was waiting for my flight from Edmonton to Vancouver, I saw a Canadian North plane on the tarmac. In that moment, I wished I could return up north, to "my town."

I'm in Vancouver now, staying at my parents' for spring break. I need this break, these days of movies at the theatre, good books from the library, sushi and desserts with friends and family. I had been in an off mood all week before break. If it weren't for work, I might have stayed in bed for five days straight. Part of it was just being burnt out from the job; part of it was ennui from being in Fox Creek; but mostly, it was from all the time I had to overthink things. Yes, things....

Over the past eight months or so, I had consciously cut ties with two people who had, at some point, mattered very much to me. These were two people who had made my heart ache whenever I was with them, but who made that ache ever stronger when I was without them. These were two people who had forced me to let go of them through their actions, but who had the immense power to hold me captive through our shared history.  These were two people whom time and experience had refused to let me forget.

During the most unexpected of moments, these two people would creep into my mind, and I would sink under the weight of the distance we had let build between us. I might be watching TV, or showering, or trying to fall asleep. I would become morose at the irreparable relationships; I would question whether I should have done something; I would come to the conclusion that nothing could or should be done, which would just drag me lower into the depths of my melancholy.  But, just as surely, that same realization would comfort me. After all, I'd reason, letting go is a two-way manoeuvre. 

Whenever I feel that emptiness, that hollow echo and that dull ache, something ordinary would jolt me back to reality, to seeing just how nothing is black and white. There are never just downs, or just ups. Life is this magnificent mish-mash of colours, from violent reds, through calm blues, to joyous yellows. Things are and aren't what they seem. There's usually something deeper, something unanticipated, something that gives way to something else.

Case in point: On Thursday, the school held "King and Queen of the Creek" festivities for the students. The students competed against each other and some teachers in scooter-races, arm-wrestling, and pillow-fights. The students were just so excited. Some kids who regularly skipped school came in just to vie for the title of being "king" or "queen." Part of me found the whole event rather sad. Eighteen-year-olds had nothing better to do than to shove each other out of the way as they did their laps around that tiny gym. But, there was also an innocence in their ability to be so fully absorbed, to find such joy in something so simple.

In the Home Ec. classroom, the fridges were cleaned out for break. One seventh-grade student managed to take home bags of groceries that included an almost-full jug of milk, some peppers, garlic, and mushrooms, half a jar of salsa, and half a jar of pasta sauce. His eyes lit up as those items were put into plastic bags for him to take. Meanwhile, his classmates danced around, singing along to the tunes blaring from an expensive iPod. How disparate the worlds of those twelve-year-olds seemed -- from one who cherished leftovers from the classroom fridge to those who danced as though nothing mattered in the world.

Later that evening, as M and I drove down to the store, we saw that same boy -- the one who had taken the groceries home -- on a side street by himself, throwing rocks into the woods. Part of me wanted to scoop that little boy up and whisk him away from Fox Creek, from his apparent loneliness. However, watching him launch those rocks with a beautiful rhythm all his own, I saw that perhaps there was some secret joy in his solitude. Perhaps those were moments that he hoarded as he would some cherished treasure.

As for me, perhaps I hoard those moments of melancholy. Those moments make me appreciate what I have, and the people I do have in my life. I may have some secret joy too. It just may not be in a scooter-race, a bag of groceries, or a pile of rocks. But I do have it. It's here, in having a home at my parents' no matter how old I am, in the eyes of a cat, in the clickety-clack of computer keys. It's here, and I have it, and it's all that matters.

Time's a-marchin' on

Springtime has kissed Fox Creek at last, and I can imagine lush green lawns beneath the slush and the mud puddles. Although I had vowed to walk around town more when I first moved here, I have yet to point my new pink hightops toward the trails that skirt the town. The only time I've walked anywhere since moving here was the day the car wouldn't start in minus-thirty weather. I had walked home from work, and sorely regretted not taking an offered ride along the way. Those twenty minutes were worse than anything I had experienced in the Canadian Arctic. I felt so sorry for myself and thought that my toes were going to fall off.

Report card time has come and gone, and I was pleased that all of my students passed.  Parent-teacher night will be this coming Wednesday, and then my spring break will start on Friday. I'll be taking the Greyhound to Edmonton before catching a flight back to Vancouver. By the time I get back to Fox Creek on April 19th, I'll have only a little more than two months before my summer holidays -- possibly the last summer vacation I will have as a teacher.

A few days ago, the principal came to my room to speak with me about a few of my students. She stared at me intently for a while with a strange expression before declaring that I had staples all over my hair. I ran my fingers through my hair, and indeed, staples fell out. She had imagined some of the "bad" kids throwing things around in class, but I assured her that it was my own doing, from my continuous attempts to unjam the stapler on my desk, that had sent staples flying through the air. We both had a good laugh, and it felt so good at the end of a frustrating, flurried afternoon.

At work, I've learned to pick my battles and fight for what really matters, but let the rest go. I've stuck to my motto that somtimes, all we can do is laugh, especially at the things that frustrate us the most. I'd still like to stick by my view that every student matters, but on days when particular students just would not cooperate, I've learned to take it easy and try again the next day. More than anything, I've found that what those difficult and challenging students need the most is understanding, not harsh discipline. When a student who has butted heads with all other teachers and who has refused to attend most classes still comes to my class, I see his willingness to focus and work every other day as a good place to start. Although I tell those students that what matters is not whether or not they like their teachers when they complain about all of their teachers, I make sure I let them know that I do indeed like them, despite their antics. When they complain about fellow classmates, I make sure that I say that all of them, complainers and complainees alike, are still good kids at the core. Already, I'm wondering how I could or why I would leave this profession come June....

This past week, I received news that I'd been selected for the major graduate recruitment scholarship. It will pay for my tuition and fees for the first year of my two-year program, and will provide a stipend that should cover my rent for the year.  On top of that, the department has guaranteed me a research grant. I feel so utterly fortunate and blessed. Now there is no reason for me not to go to grad school. All that questioning that started in earnest last year, when I decided to leave the North, all those uncertainties have been laid to rest. Often, the universe has a way of telling us that everything will be fine, particularly during the times when we doubt ourselves the most. 

Time is indeed marching steadily onward, in its own regular rhythm that is in syncopation with my own heartbeat and my own pace. The next phase of life comes all too quickly, and not soon enough....

Sad is...

You know what's sad? It's lingering at work on a Friday afternoon after all the students had been dismissed because I had nothing better to do.  It's driving for forty-five minutes on Friday evening to get some Mary Brown's chicken and taters although I had just finished supper at home.  It's eating the afore-mentioned chicken and taters in the car, parked outside Walmart. It's walking aimlessly through the Walmart and emerging with five packages of mini-eggs.

Sad is thinking that this is as good as it gets here on a Friday night....

But, we might head to Grande Prairie again tomorrow! If the roads aren't too bad and there's no blowing snow....  Where are my crocuses and daffodils? Isn't it the first day of spring?

The first paycheque, the first mishap

One thing about living in Fox Creek is that the majority of my paycheque goes to a combination of rent and trips out. I've been here a month and a day, and have made two trips to Edmonton, one to Grande Prairie, and numerous to Whitecourt. We'll be off to Edmonton again next weekend.

I had always thought that I loved small towns, and I think I still do. Unfortunately, Fox Creek does not present itself like a small town; rather, there are a few motels, restaurants, and stores along a small strip on the highway, and then there are a clump of houses in a wooded area beyond the highway. I miss being able to walk in a town, hopping from place to place, meeting people on the main street along the way. Hence the trips out....

The thing about moving to a place for five months is that all the effort put into packing, moving, applying for the new provincial certification, getting my past education and experience assessed, etc., might not be worth it in the end.  By the time I feel comfortable with my classes, with the feel of the school and town, it'll be time to pack up and leave.

I received my first Fox Creek paycheque over a week ago, and have yet to comprehend how teachers who do so much could be paid so little. Of course, I have yet to be placed on the right salary scale because my certification has yet to come through in Alberta, and my NWT experience has yet to be considered. Still.... It makes me wonder if the joys of the classroom really do make up for this dismal pay.

Friday afternoon, a student in my Communication Technology class (i.e. photography, A/V production, and animation) had an accident. Every classroom teacher is bound to have a student get into some memorable mishap. I had a few in Inuvik, and Friday was the day for the first in Fox Creek. Said student became upset at something another student had said, and rolled up some scrap paper to bonk this other student over the head. Unfortunately, poor aim got the better of him, and his hand landed on a pair of scissors that the second student was using to cut up some construction paper. I was not witness to this whole interlude except for the bloody aftermath. A puncture in the palm, a trip to the hospital, and some lost pride resulted. At the end, the wounded student admitted he was the only one to blame for the accident, that he had been goofing off. The second student -- the one holding the scissors -- felt horrible. Why must my afternoon classes be filled with boys, boys, more boys, and only boys? It's true -- there is not a single girl in any of my afternoon classes.

I've been here one month now, and there are a little less than four to go....

To sum it up

Low energy at home, no energy to blog, conserving it all for my day-job....

I'm slowly getting my Media classes into the swing of things. I'm still trying to balance what to do with senior high students for eighty minutes every day, versus forty minutes with junior high students every other day.... Too much time to fill with one group, not enough time to get stuff done with the other.

I had forgotten how much of "teaching" actually involves other things, such as phone calls home, paperwork, late-night research, etc..  Being in the classroom with students is the breezy part, and the part I enjoy most. Wish I could hire someone else to do all the other stuff.

Last weekend, we went to Edmonton, and this weekend, we went to Whitecourt. Here are the windswept, crystalline trees along the highway. There is a slight possibility that it was me in the car, toting my cellphone-camera, that was slanted, and not the trees themselves. Yes, slight possibility.

I finally put together the table that we had bought in Edmonton. We had a corner in the condo that just seemed like a waste of space, so we decided to turn it into a sewing corner. Twelve little washers remained after I had put the table together with the nuts and bolts and screws. How crucial could twelve little washers be? (And by the way, I don't sew.... The sewing machine terrifies me, actually.)

And, last but not least, here's a photo of my Duncan. She's at my parents' in Vancouver these few months while I'm here in Fox Creek, and I miss her fuzzy little face nuzzled next to my not-so-fuzzy one at night. Here she is in her Vancouver home, catching some rays on the window sill.

Weekend in the city

I've taught for a week now, and it seems like a lot longer. I can't believe that a week ago, I was just arriving in Edmonton from Vancouver, and had yet to see Fox Creek.

Classes are going fairly smoothly, and I am enjoying being in the classroom with students again. Of course, there are the usual frustrations that come with being a teacher, but for the most part, it's nice to be a teacher officially again. The most frustrating part of this past week has nothing to do with managing students or course preparation/delivery at all, but has to do with not having my own permanent classroom where I could leave my teaching materials, where I would have my own desk and computer to work on. As such, I've been floating around a fair bit, monopolizing computer time on the one machine in the staffroom.

The town has a completely different feel than Inuvik. It is not as walking-friendly, and I never see kids "hanging out" on the streets. I miss being able to walk down to the store that is only a few minutes away, and see lots of acquaintances, young and old, milling about and socializing with one another.

This is a long weekend because of Family Day on Monday. M and I have booked ourselves into a hotel for two nights in Edmonton, and will drive down there on Saturday morning, and be back on Monday. I know we were just there last weekend, but it honestly feels like eons ago. Although the apartment we have here is gorgeous and comfortable, I have come to associate it with my late nights of lesson-planning, so it would be wonderful to get away from it all, however briefly. (I will be bringing my laptop though, so I can't completely escape from my work.)

Here are a couple of pictures of my new apartment. I love it, but in some ways, I can't wait to leave this place, to find another place that feels more like "home."

First day frenzy

The first day is over. I've gone into the school, met staff and students, snooped in the various corners, looked over what to do for my courses, etc..... But, there's still so much more to be done, and my head feels as though it'll explode, or else hibernate and just stop working until springtime.

More detailed update of the town and the job will have to wait until the weekend. Hurray for Family Day in Alberta next Monday! It's gonna be a long weekend!

* Oh, and pics are to come too! I've not really walked around town at all, but there will be pics of my new digs anyhow.