giant cement truck snowmen
It snowed in Merritt last night and is it ever beautiful. Above is a shot of one of our many lakes. Before the insanity of the MMF Merritt's tourist mantra was "A lake a day as long as you stay." Where I'm staying is nowhere near this, but it is near a river. Feeding chickens, puppies and dogs is so much more fun in the snow. Its like a fluffy salute to the end of my stay. I can't WAIT to snowboard all of the sudden. Even though I suck I'm going to try to make it down a couple smaller hills before Mel's annual Whistler trek. Interior snow is the best, Sun Peaks to be exact. Panorama is good too. The flakes are tiny, dry and fluffy. So perfect and crunchy, it's almost like fake snow.
On Friday night I spent four hours in the subzero. The 4th annual Santa Claus parade, trundled down the main street of Merritt while we shivered. My girlfriends, cousin Mossimo and I had a great time. My friend's daughter was in the parade and didn't recognize me. When she did she made the meanest, funniest scrunchy lip face and then waved. I told her later the newspaper took a picture of her like that and she may be famous for her nasty face. She made the face again. The parade was really impressive. There were 70 floats including a cement truck transformed into a swivelling snowman and a walking float of STAAR (Students Taking Action Against Racism), an anti-racism group I helped start in high school. When I started cheering for the STAAR float they looked at me like I was crazy. I felt like an old, crazy has-been.By the end of the night I couldn't feel my thighs or cheeks. My friend's son was so bundled he looked like the Randy Parker from, the Christmas story. You know the little brother that can barely walk.
dognapper/tourguide
I've fallen in love with my brother's dog, Max and may kidnap him. Hopefully his cowshit eating problem will resolve itself in the city. This week I introduced an intrepid reporter friend to the charms of my stomping grounds. We attended a Barra McNeill's show in Ashcroft at a refurbished opera house with my grama and former choir teacher. Celtic music is not usually my thing but they reminded me of dancing around my dad's kitchen with the whole family at Christmas time. The valley is rimmed by a dusting of icing sugar snow and the trees look dark green/blue because of it. My cousin, 'Mossimo', came for dinner and is doing great. Both sets of grandparents are feisty as ever. The puppy has officially put a hole in my jogging pants making me realize it's probably not a good idea to wear jogging pants for 80% of my waking hours. I will now reconsider renaming my little self employment foray from 'stretchy pants consulting' to 'bite free denim contracting'. The chickens are all still alive despite two cunning escapes. The water here is clear and drinkable - I'm not looking forward to returning to Vancouver. And I'm now addicted to the smell of wood fires and the hug of electric blankets. Oh and thanks to my brothers' superior downloading tastes I've burned a CD called, "If I was 17 again" with tunes by these guys, this girl, this group.
Once again I'm behind the trend curve. My brothers used to look up to me but I'm in awe of them now - just as the cool genes in me are withering, they're taking the torch and running with it.
nostalgia 1; change 10
Anyone who's known me for more than a month can tell you I am extremely nostalgic. I live for revelling in the past. I think its a hobby. The older I get the more fertile the soil for my nostalgia. It grows in my head and heart like knapweed in the Nicola Valley. It usually goes something like this: "Remember the cider we drank ast October in Montreal. It was soo good. Soooo good." I can't wait to go have it again." (I also have an annoying habit of repeating words or phrases when I get excited but that's another blog entry, for sure. Fooor sure.) Or Almost everytime I see a certain high school girlfriend I run through a memory I really should let go of: "Tonya, remember when we used to drive around in your tempo with Scatman on full blast and I'd pull your ebrake going around corners in the snow!" I'm especially like that with my hometown and my hometown friends. The older I get the rosier my past becomes. Like the first 18 years of my life growing up in a rural BC town was friggen Shangri-la. Yeah right. I'm sure a counsellor would tell me this is my brain's way of blocking the bad with the good. When I lived here I couldn't wait to get out and thought it was so backwards and hillbilly. Now, words like quaint, community, safe is how I describe the Merritt I grew up in. Here I am 10 years after leaving and wondering if high school kids in Merritt have ever experienced a real home made donut. Not Timmy Hos up on the hill. From grades 8-11 we'd walk every lunch hour to the local bakery ran by a fantastically calm woman named Mrs. Sehkon. We'd gorge ourselves on butterhorns, donuts and egg salad sandwiches before sneaking a cigarette or attempting flirt with a crush. I also wonder if my brothers have had mom'n'pop style friend chicken, not KFC. Finally I wonder if Centennial games is still the site of romantic make ups and breakups. Merritt has changed so much since I left that sometimes I have to rub my eyes and take a second glance at the downtown core. It's shrivelled and full of gawd awful country music murals and sidewalk stars. Its developing like crazy to the northeast of town. One day we'll be like a mini-Kelowna or Nanaimo with our strip malls. Our franchise total: 1 Walmart (puke, barf, choke)1 Canadian Tire1 Lordco 1 Napa Autoparts1 Timmy Ho's1 Taco Del Mar (Now its for sale, $125K, anytakers. I'm sorry but I love Tex-Mex food but in Merritt? Where we have exactly 2.75 of latino descent. Where's the market there?)1 Coopers1 Superstore (again, why?)1 McDonald'sWhat next, Starbucks?New developments that have my stamp of approval: the Skateboard Park, the Rotary Amphitheatre, the mountain bike park (right behind the copshop, love it!), Mandolin's Cafe, Work'n'Play, 378 Boardshop and Wekusko coffee shop. Let's hope they grow like the nostalgia in my head. I want to take the city planners on a whistle stop tour of funky, awesome towns that have avoided the strip mall sprall and nurtured individual business owners to set up shop (ie. Nelson, Cumberland, Qualicum Beach).So here I am cradling the tiny, rosey memories of what was, hoping that others are too.
Ranch 1; Miranda 2
Pre-game stats:4 dogs - 3 border collies (one 3 month old puppy), 1 manure eating cockapoo16 chickens - Barnevelders and Plymouth Rocks, 1 nasty egg-laying bitch4 feral kats - marmalade, black and tabby1 herd of coyotes1 4 bedroom house1 fireplace - 3 wheelbarrows of wood packed/2 usedHour 40So far I've mopped up at least a cup of puppy pee and possess two small puppy incisor bites on my calf. Damn you Aritzia - why can't you make jogging pant weave as thick as denim. I've feed all the animals twice now and they all seem happy and healthy. I was never given direction about how much to feed them so I think they may all need to go the animal fat camp when my family returns. My prose productivity is low low low. I'm using my stepmom's desk as a workstation. It looks out onto the lawn under the willow tree, the chicken coop, the horse field and if I crane my neck, the side porch. Oh and the awesome rolling mountains/hills of Lower Nicola. Lots of daydreaming is interupting my website rewrite due next Weds. Every time I look up the chickens are gathered in the corner of the coop closest to me, staring expectantly. The only incident to report besides my snagged jogging pants: the first night the dogs all decided to have a bark off with a pack of marauding coyotes. I was sure the cockapoo, Max, was going to be eaten for all his arrogant woofs. Luckily his breath smells like rotten groundbeef and manure, which drove them off. My dad called that night (the night before the left Van for CR) and said that this happens every night unless the cockapoo comes in early. Not to worry the chickens and dogs are safe. Deep sigh of relief. The internet is dial up - like organic, unsweetened peanut butter with the oil all on top - slow. But at least the water is clear and drinkable. Score: the Ranch 1; Me 2. Ha!
here
There's a lot franticness in my life lately. Lots of deadlines. Lots of birthdays and weekend shifts and other people's parties. I'm heading up to the hometown/homeranch for 10 days this month to house, chicken and dog sit. I plan to immerse myself in works of prose (mine and others') and the routine of fire stoking.
I've decided to save up to go here for a friends' wedding. Goals like will hopefully keep me focused over the wet, cold winter. Perhaps I'll finish my trip off with a stop here or here.
I'm not good with transition. Sometimes when I am stressed about my career choice - a friend calls me out of the blue to go on a hike here. Then I know I've made the right decision. For now.
