Hell yeah.

April 21, 2008

5-0.

Perfect strangers are high-fiving each other on the street, men lurching out of bars are handing me beer (and pouring bowls of it for the dog, since she’s attached to me by a snazzy Habs leash), every car is honking, and, embarrassingly, I’m a little misty – being in Montreal when the Canadiens are kicking ass has always been a life goal. I love this feeling.

UPDATE/P.S. I didn’t mean the hooliganism. Sheesh. Save the torching and looting for when they win the Cup. Doing it now is a little undignified.

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What I’ve got

April 16, 2008

Blisters on my fingers from the staple gun, splinters in my palms from the signposts, more strategizing emails than I can wade through in a day, and a sneaking suspicion that we may just be having an effect.

Some reflections

April 14, 2008

1. A new dog is a process. Maybe not for everyone, but for me. I loved Isis so much – she came with me through so many big changes: three cities, two degrees; the start and end of my first big relationship; always curled up beside me on the kitchen floor when I was crying about the one that got away. She stared solemnly at me when I got my BA, danced with me when I got my MA, and always climbed into the car first. And now there’s Alice. She’s not Isis, she never will be. There are times when I resent that, because I wish, childishly, that it could have been Isis forever. But that’s not the way pets work.
I’m no longer ambivalent about Alice’s role here – that was hammered home a few weeks ago when the protective grizzly reared its head, that surge of “Nobody fucks with my dog.” We’re having buildy moments – when she walks into the room, plops down on her ample rump and yawns something inside of me aches and smiles at the same time. Like when she stretches beside me on the couch, accidentally kicking me without apology. Or when I ask her to “heel” and she does (these moments are fewer and farther between). I look at her and know that I’m moving toward the ownership mixture of taking her presence for granted and looking at her grinning because that’s my dog.

2. The past few weeks have been spent bouncing from one important thing to another. I’ve been doing lots of talking, but along the way the kinds of conversations that matter, that have become part of the daily routine (not to be equated with the daily grind, but ‘routine’ in the way that the afternoon coffee is routine – necessary, needed, anticipated, cherished) have fallen by the wayside. So has my dissertation, and, reassuringly, I miss it too. These important things hit their expiry dates soon and the routine will return, just in time for terraces and slathering on sunscreen and late-night bouts of inspiration with nowhere to be in the morning. But still…

Happiness is a warm run

April 9, 2008

The canal path is, for most intents and purposes, snow- and puddle-free. I nearly flew along it this morning, hitting my stride so much faster when I don’t have to stop for cars and crosswalks. I’m sweaty and spent and grinning; staring at the sunshine out my window I keep thinking “I want to go again!” Madonna might be on to something when she says* that those who run seem to have all the fun.

*I envision my dissertation defense looking something like this.

The blog’s been quiet, I know.  I’ve been marking, and marking, and writing, and marking, and writing.  And wearing sneakers rather than boots, and cheering for my boys making the play-offs, and marvelling at the cross that wasn’t there during Earth Hour, and eating melty-fresh maple candies from the market, and having my dog diagnosed with a (luckily treatable) condition.

The blog just might stay quiet for awhile – with a 79% vote in favour of a strike and little progress in negotiations, things are probably about to get a different kind of busy.  Solidarity forever – the union makes us strong.  For those of you into that whole Facebook thing, join the group, and tell your friends.

There are things to chronicle, lack of recent words notwithstanding.  I will, of course, return.