All the blood vessels in my nose popped when I landed, and my tissues are all filled with blood whenever I blow my nose. Alberta is dry.
Cold Lake looks exactly the same as it did three years ago.
My Papa, Alex Dodd and I went for a walk down the back road last night. The ditches were littered with carcasses of deer and porcupines that didn't make it through the winter. Every bronchile in my lung is rejoicing at the clean, crisp northern Albertan air.
The pastures on the way up are flooded from the intense winter snowfall, and there's definitely still a small mound of snow in my front yard.
I hand-fed Alex Dodd these delicious spinach balls dipped in a rhubarb dip of some sort during the drive home yesterday. Hand-feeding my boyfriend was either the high point of my day or the low point of my day, but I haven't figured that out yet. Regardless, I kind of took pleasure in it.
I'm listening to Francophone hip-hop because I'm in denial about where I am. Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, anyone?