Larocque and Roll

Days 12 thru 14 September 10, 2008

The original plan was that my parents were going to drive my sister to the airport (a 6-hour round trip) on the Monday and that my cousin and I would head back to Saint John on the day after the holiday [1]. However, because the weather had been miserable up to that point, we decided to leave a day early and drop my sister at the airport and save my parents the trip.

We had ample time to get there, and in fact, managed to stop for lunch in Bouctouche [2]; unfortunately, we didn’t have time to stop in Shediac and have our pictures taken at the giant lobster. It also didn’t help that the exit for the airport is not well-marked and ended up doubling back.

After that, my cousin and I went on our merry way, stopping for really, really good ice cream in the middle of nowhere [3]. When the proprietor found out I was from North Bay, he gave me a reproduction of an advertisement featuring the Dionne Quints. Because we weren’t hungry when we got back to Saint John, we stopped at the video store and rented season 1 of Rome, which we stayed up watching until 5am.

My last official day in the Maritimes got off to a very late start, and we ended up going back downtown to hit a couple of used book stores. I haven’t mentioned in my recap how desperately close I came to running out of reading material - usually, I have too much but this time I had far, far too little. I did find a couple of things to throw in my purse, and managed to offload a few of the books I’d picked up in used bookstores in Halifax. Went home, had dinner, watched a documentary about crossword puzzles, and called it a night.

The next morning, for the last time, I threw all my stuff into my suitcase, and what wouldn’t fit into the suitcase went into a cloth bag I’d brought for that very purpose. I got dropped off at the airport, flew to Toronto, and then flew back to North Bay.

And thus ended my vacation. That, and coming home to find my neighbour’s tree had fallen into my backyard. There’s no place like home, right?

[1] Because by this point in the narrative, we’re up to the first weekend in August, which is a long weekend.
[2] Although not at Le Pays de la Sagouine because their restaurant was closed.
[3] I have the postcard from the place, but it’s upstairs and I’m too lazy to go get it.

Days 9, 10 and 11 September 9, 2008

I feel like I’m in the middle of the Mackenzie Brother’s “12 Days of Christmas” song, around the time when they completely forget what day they’re on.

Anyways, day 9 was Friday. After spending the morning marveling over The Neph’s new tricks (sign language! walking! high fiving! peek-a-boo! reading, sort of!) we went to the beach. Ah, the beach. We didn’t stay for long because a certain short person (The Neph) was getting hungry. So we cut the visit short and vowed to go back later. Little did I know that would be the only time I’d make it there.

Otherwise, it was a low key day. It started raining and being miserable in the afternoon, so no more beach for us. At some point, my sisters pulled out Settlers of Catan (they’d each brought a game, plus Seafarers of Catan) and we started playing. Later, we called my cousin to come over and play, then more cousins, aunts and uncles dropped by, and we ended up teaching them how to play.

Saturday, day 10, dawned windy and overcast, and eventually rainy. It was the day of the big Larocque family reunion, where we were supposed to be competing on family teams. My sister had the bright idea to get us all matching t-shirts, and because we’re who we are, they all had skull and crossbones on the front and our crew position on the back [1]. Due to the rain, the games got cancelled which didn’t make me overly sad because it meant more time to visit with everyone I hadn’t seen in more than 7 years.

Sunday was all about being anti-social, the napping, and generally laying low. The rain continued to fall, the wind picked up significantly, and venturing outside was to risk immediate soaking. So, more Settlers, and early bedtime.

[1] My dad was Captain JC, my mom was First Mate, The Neph was Cabin Boy, and the rest of us were Crew.

Days 6, 7 and 8 September 8, 2008

Day 6 started at oh-my-god o’clock with a walk to the bus station. It was too early for anything to be open, so thankfully I had an oatcake and a bottle of water. The bus was full, and it took over an hour to get to the airport because of all the stops we had to make. To pass the time (and take my mind of my empty stomach) I knit, read, texted my cousin (along the lines of “where are you now?” “on the bus” “where?” “how should I know?”) and watched a movie on Ivor [1]. At a stop somewhere between Moncton and Saint John I got a muffin and some coffee.

Finally arrived in SJ, and was met by my cousin. We ditched my stuff in his car, and proceeded to walk all over the city [2]. Included in our walk was a stop at a used book store that also sold coins and post cards, and I found a bunch of North Bay and Dionne Quintuplet cards. I bought them for my boss, who’s got an impressive collection of North Bay post cards, and because my library has an impressive collection of Dionne Quintuplet memorabilia.

The next day, my cousin and I headed out to the Carleton Martello Tower and the Saint John Museum. The tower was lovely, but the museum felt like it had been put together by several different groups, and no one talked to anyone else while they put things together. There was no continuity, and no attempt to standardize how things were labeled.

Day 8 (Thursday) dawned cool and rainy. My attempt to hang clothes on the line was laughed at. Eventually, the laundry was done, last minute groceries were acquired, and we left for Moncton to pick up my sister at the airport. A few hours later, we were in the Fatherland, Lameque, having dinner with my aunt and cousin and her husband. Much merriment ensued, and then my sister and I went to our final stop at my grandmother’s, where we were staying along with my parents and other sister, b-i-l, and The Neph.

[1] My iTouch.
[2] An exaggeration, to be certain, but it felt like it.

Day 5

(Clearly, when I said I’d finish writing about my vacation “by the end of the weekend“, I meant “at some unspecified point in the future.” Try and keep up, people!)

Rain, rain, rain. Saturday had been damp and foggy in the morning, but today it was flat out raining. Hustled out to breakfast between the raindrops, and then picked up my rental car for a side trip to Wolfville. Why Wolfville? Well, why not?

Missed the turnoff, so doubled back. By now it wasn’t raining and the sun was coming out - all the better to see the beautiful rolling hills and that the tide was low.

It didn’t take as long as I expected to get there, and the first place I passed on my way into town was one of the reasons I’d come here: Just Us Coffee Roasters. I drank what was possibly the best iced latte in the world (strong and slightly salty) and learned all about fair trade coffee in their museum. Bought six pounds of coffee and hot chocolate, and only wondered how I was going to get this home once I’d left.

Eventually found the library, which was closed. But the public computer room was open, AND they had free wireless. Score! Looked up directions to Gaspereau Valley Fibres and set out to find it. After almost three quarters of an hour of getting lost and doubling back on country roads, I found it. Only to discover it’s closed on Mondays. Hungry and grumpy, I made it back to town and had lunch at the Library Pub.

There are several wineries in the area, and I couldn’t leave without visiting one. In the end, I wasn’t able to leave without three bottles of wine (to add to my concerns about how I was getting this home.) One was a red, one was a white, and the third was a dessert wine made with apples grown in local orchards.

The trip back to town was uneventful. The tide was out, and there were gorgeous acres of rich red mud. I wanted to wallow in it for a few hours.

Pulled myself back together and went back to Halifax, where I found a message from a friend about a library school alumni meeting, and would I be interested in attending? Well, since it meant taking the ferry across the harbour, which was one of the only things I hadn’t been able to do, it wasn’t a hard decision to make.

Called it a night, finished packing, and ran down to the Starbucks (which used to be a bank) and got something to eat in the morning, since it was going to be an early start.

Day 3 and 4

Saturday was market day, where I went to find the vendors I once knew and loved. Got the coffee, the cinnamon roll, the chocolate croissant (for later), and the cranberry juice - didn’t find the Chinese food guy until after. I remember there was a period of time when I shunned the cinnamon rolls because I found them too rich, but now I miss them mightily. They’re more biscuity than bready, and that what makes them unique.

Later, I went and hung around the library until the Pride Parade started. Much fun and merriment ensued - lots of families of all shapes and sizes. From what I heard, this was the first time the Pride Parade followed the same route as all the other major parades.

Afterwards, my cousin came to pick me and my aunt up to go out to their place on the lake. It’s a great house on a lovely piece of real estate. My cousins, who were still just little last time I saw them, are either starting high school or graduating from it.

Sunday was low key, spent wandering around the public gardens then watching my cousin’s soccer game. His team was in second place, and they were playing the first place team. It ended in a tie, but it was a close thing.

For dinner, I went to the Fireside, the martini bar and restaurant we used to gravitate to in grad school, if we weren’t cluttering up the Grad House.

Day 2 July 27, 2008

Spent the vast majority of the day wandering around the city, visiting all the places I was too poor to shop in as a student. Didn’t buy much, except for some NS yarn and some used books (I only brought three and had visions of it not being enough.)

Went to a Vietnamese restaurant for lunch and ran into an old friend. We spent lunch chatting and it was great to get caught up.

On my way back from my wandering, visited the craft show that was being set up. There were spinners and weavers doing a demo, and I learned how to use a drop spindle. Awesome!

Went to a nice place for dinner, expecting to eat on the patio, but it started to pour rain, so had to go inside with everyone else expecting to eat outdoors.

Watched a couple of French video podcasts and went to bed.

Day 1 July 24, 2008

Day 1

The flights were uneventful. I was on the same plane as the women’s dragon boat team, Warriors of Hope. They race Saturday and Sunday, and I hope to go see them race at some point.

I knew it would be humid here, but I wasn’t really prepared for the wet slap in the face that hit me at the airport. Caught the shuttle into the city and marveled how much Nova Scotia and North Bay have in common in terms of landscape.

Was struck again and again by waves of nostalgia while walking around. A little sad that the pizza place where I used to get steak subs I still dream about, is gone.

Napped. Well, slept like the dead for almost two hours. Getting up at 4am is hard.

Eventually decided to go for supper, and ended up at a microbrewery and had a fantastic cider-like beer. And this ended day 1.

Is this too white trash for you? February 28, 2008

This, ladies and gentlemen, represents what I hate the most about being single and living alone: when something breaks, I have to fix it. I’m the only one who can deal with it, whether I fix it myself or seek out someone to fix it for me (even if it means calling my dad, who lives over 500km away, and whining, “Daaaaad, can’t you come up this weekend and fiiiiiix it for meeeeeee?”) [1] The backstory to this picture goes something like this:

A few weekends ago, Denise and Denephew came up (along with her friend Lisa and her daughter), and noticed the toilet was leaking. None of us could figure out exactly what was wrong, so we put a container under the most likely spot. Later in the weekend, my brother-in-law established that the water was leaking from around one of the bolts which holds the tank to the seat. The solution was simple: drain the tank, and seal the bolt with some kind of waterproof silicone caulking. In the meantime, with the use of containers (and a few rags), the leak was manageable.

Later that week, the leaking appeared to stop. There was no more water in the container, so I assumed whatever was wrong had fixed itself [2]. Friday morning, the day my cousin was to arrive, I was sitting at the table in the kitchen eating breakfast, when I heard a dripping noise. Looking up, I could see the bulge in the ceiling where the water was collecting, and the spot where it was actively leaking through. Got that cleaned up, called my dad (”Daaaaaaaaaad! Heeeeeelp!”) and he explained that the bolt would probably have to be replaced. A little while later he called back and said I shouldn’t do it myself and should seek out a professional since there were so many ways it could go wrong (a few of which I found out myself, but I’m getting to that…)

The visit with my cousin was fabulous in all senses of the word [3], but part of me spent the weekend fretting about the leak, which was being contained with rags around the base of the toilet. Sunday afternoon, after I dropped him at the bus station, I went to Canadian Tire to see if I could get replacement bolts.

(An aside: whenever I go to Canadian Tire/Home Depot/Home Hardware/etc. for a specific purpose, I feel helpless, defensive, and inadequate. Twice, I approached a salesperson to ask for help and had them walk past me to help someone else, usually a man, in coveralls and work clothes who looked like they already knew what they were doing.)

After wandering around for a while, I found the necessary hardware. I should have taken them home and left it at that, but I was bound and determined to get the damn thing fixed. I figured out how to drain the tank and shut off the water source (go me!) and had a go at getting the bolts out. No dice - the washer at the bottom of the bolt was so badly corroded I couldn’t really get it loose. However, I did manage to get it loose enough that it was no longer tight to the base, and there was considerable wiggle room. It was also at this point that I accidentally knocked over the lid of the tank, which was leaning against the wall, and watched it shatter into four pieces. [4]

The toilet wasn’t unusable at this point - if I wanted to flush, I just needed to put a couple of buckets of water into the tank. In fact, it reminded me a lot of when I was younger and living at home in the country, where we were on a cistern - when the power went out, we couldn’t flush the toilet because the water pump didn’t work, so we would use the same bucket solution.

Fortunately, when I was asking the Exec Assistant at work if she could recommend a good plumber, she told me not to worry and called her husband to come fix it; which he did, and now it works again. Except for the lid, which I need to figure out how to replace.

Back to what I was saying at the beginning - I would dearly love to have someone around the house to hand this whole situation over to fix. I can fix a lot of things on my own, but major repairs (like this) just bring up all these feelings of helplessness and inadequacy. I know I should be proud of the fact I don’t have to rely on someone else for shelter and security, but there are certainly times it would be nice to have someone to do the things that I can’t do.

[1] He’s retired now, so I labour under the delusion that he’ll drop everything and rush up to lend a hand. So fa, it hasn’t happened yet.
[2] I live in a world completely undisturbed by reality, and I’ll thank you to indulge my little fantasies!
[3] And we were even sober for some of the time!
[4] It was just the icing on what had been a spectacularly bad week - with a few bright spots - so my descent into despair and hopelessness was a short one.

Not quite pining for the fjords September 9, 2007

As I was writing the previous post, there was a loud noise at my kitchen window. It’s the second time this morning that it’s happened, and the first time there wasn’t anything out there to give me any clues. My best guess is that it was a bird or something trying to get at the sunflowers in a vase on my windowsill.

The second time it happened, I went outside again, and again, there was nothing. I looked all over - behind flower pots, the barbecue, the wheelbarrow - and didn’t see anything. However, as I went to go back into the house, something moved on the railing beside the door. This guy was just sitting there, giving me the stink eye.

I think it was him who was flying into the window. And I think he’s stunned because he just sat there while I was taking the picture.

He’s still there. I hope he’s not just waiting for his buddies to show up and get revenge.

I hate my job August 16, 2007

Well, it’s official - I’ve passed the honeymoon phase at my job and I’ve fallen out of love with it. Want to know why? Next week, I have to go to Toronto - not once, but twice. On the first trip, I’m going down with a friend who works at the library in Sudbury, and we’re stuck in a crappy hotel downtown. Once we check in, I’m being dragged out to eat real Thai food and drink martinis, which is hardly anyone’s definition of a good time. Then Wednesday, we’re in meetings all day at this dump, and then it’s back to Sudbury.

Thursday, when I get back, I have to turn around and haul myself down to Markham, for a demonstration at the new branch of the public library - I hear it’s so nice that I might not want to leave. Once I escape from there, it’s down to the family homestead for the rest of the weekend, and then back to the north on Monday. And you know what the worst part is? My CEO was more than happy to let me do all this - in fact, he didn’t even put up a fight when I asked to go. How much does that suck?