Friday, January 05, 2007

Nostalgia-induced nausea

I went home with the best intentions of reading, writing, thinking.

And plotting, of course.

I didn't get a chance to do many of these things.

I was too busy enjoying the company of my family and friends.

Junior, I took this picture for you. I thought the juxtaposition of the snow drift to the height of the truck most clearly illustrated how much snow Cold Lake had this year.

After over a week in Cold Lake, I drove back into the city with the family to spend New Year's Eve and my final days in Alberta there.

My Dad's existence is synonymous with sunrises.

I'll see you sometime soon Cold Lake.

The night before I left, I went to Dairy King, a non-chain fast-food outlet exclusive to Cold Lake that's mainly frequented by teenagers who aren't old enough to go to the bar, but are sick of sitting in 7-11 every night when they have nothing better to do after 9 pm and nothing else is open.

I ordered a poutine (all the while trying to convince myself that it was acceptable vegetarian behaviour, because they likely use a powder of some sort rather than genuine animal fat). My desire for the poutine didn't come from hunger, or even the munchies, though. The truth is, I ate the fries soaked in thickest gravy imaginable out of sheer nostalgia. Sitting in the drive-thru in my car, I was flooded with memories of being in that exact same spot, not having to worry about the fat content because my 17-year-old metabolic rate was fearless. I thought about all the conversations I'd had sitting in that same spot, and the dates I'd been there with over the years.

I spent all of the next day sick in bed. One should never over-indulge on nostalgia.

The cat kept me company since Alex Dodd was at work.

Yesterday was CCMAS-SD. Basically this meant that I made Alex Dodd spend the entire day with me before I went back to Toronto. We had a planned agenda, a list of activities complete with boxes to be checked off upon completion, itemized by yours truly.

(When I went to have my New Year's fortune told at the Russian tea room this year, the tarot reader told me that my current beau was too boring for me and that I'm truly a fan of spontaneity. I wouldn't disagree with this, but I think my love of the list overpowers my love of the unknown.)

Hey, Alex Dodd, what are we going to do today? I think I might have an idea.

I'm finally ready, willing, and mentally prepared. What do you think?

Yes, that's right. If you take off your shirt, I will perform S & M style sexual favours on you using only a pair of sewing shears with the curtains wide open so all the neighbours can watch.

Actually, now that I think about it, cutting your hair was probably the better idea.

The fortune teller also said my current flame is not creative enough. I'd have to disagree. This is definitely the first time that I've been in a car that accelerated through the pulling of a rope.

Not to mention the first time I've been with someone who owns four different harmonicas.

I think I need a second opinion.


  1. Anonymous11:53 AM

    But Jess, the important question is, did you bring me any snow back??

  2. If he can give a satisfying explanation as to why in hell he owns those 4 different harmonicas, marry him. He let you cut his hair...that means you've got him in the bag anyway.
    Besides, he looks cute.
    But what were you Canadians thinking, taking ALL THAT snow for your greedy selves? I went up to Norway, and what did I get? Rain in December. In Norwaaaay. Please send some snow over here so all the Germans will be overpowered by it and start whining and slipping and falling (as opposed to making me work).
    Happy New Year!

  3. >> If he can give a satisfying explanation as to why in hell he owns those 4 different harmonicas, marry him.

    And if the answer is, "To play the blues", I'll perform the ceremony my damn-self!