Monday, October 01, 2007

It's easier in Canada

Blogging on an up-to-date computer is easier. Yay!
Shopping is easier here, mainly because I don't have to stock up.
Housekeeping is easier in Canada. We can do all our laundry in four loads.
Going to the museum is easier. It's right down the street. For that matter, a lot of things are in walking distance.
Doing business is easier in Canada. Everyone is super helpful. Sometimes I feel bad when they can't help me. They keep apologizing. Even strangers that I ask directions of on the street. Especially bicycle dude who just moved here six months ago. Guy--one sorry is enough for being too new to know where Old Vic Fish and Chips might be.
Window shopping is easier in Canada. I'm not that tempted to get anything (carrying stuff home doesn't have much appeal) so we just wander in and out of places. Except used book stores. They get our business almost every time.
There's a bunch of stuff that's not easier in Canada, but I'm having a great time despite these things. I sure do miss my gneh gneh gneh (spoken with grippy hand motions) also known as Wizard, though. He has such a nice face. And my poopy loopies, aka the sea of unconditional love. Heck, all the beasts. They're being well taken care of, so I don't worry much (as little as is maternally possible) but I could stand for some couch time with the Wiz in my lap and Brian bounding about the living room.

Fair weather and great food and wonderful gardens (not having gotten to Buchart Gardens yet) and walks along the bay, hikes in ancient forests, First Peoples art, the poignancy of the Titanic exhibit, seeing bits of the pomp associated with the swearing in of a new lieutenant governor (complete with artillary and parades,) horse-drawn carriages, poutine--lots of memories. I'll go into detail with the best ones when I get home. I'll be forty years old officially, although I think that if I turn forty here in Canada, it doesn't count in the U.S. and I should still be 39. I'll let all y'all know how that part works out.

3 comments:

The Moody Minstrel said...

Speaking of which, my new American coworker just told one of our 7th grade classes at Ye Olde Academy that I'm 42 years old. It caused quite a ruckus.

I'm not sure whether to feel flattered, strangle the newbie, or both.

Oh, Canada...

Kai Jones said...

Eh, I think most people who watch a lot of tv and/or movies are just bad at guessing ages. I'm 46 and a grandmother, but nobody ever believes me--or they think I have a teenager who brought a child into the world too young. But my son and his wife are 21 and chose to have a baby, and I was 25 when I had him.

Ris said...

Funny how that age thing works. No one ever believes I'm as old as I am (like the gentleman who was at my job interview who asked I thought I was ready for such responsibility at my age--when I was almost 30 and the responsibility was retail). I kinda like it. My mom really likes it, because she gets the same thing. Drives her giddy with delight when people swear she and I are sisters!

Pick an age, Kami, any age. After all, it's all how you feel, right? Really, you don't look a day over ____________ (fill in the blank).

And I wish I were with you, window shopping in Canada and scoping out used bookstores! It sounds divine!