bookery

About how I feel right now.

Our new address will be:

10818 85 AVE NW
EDMONTON AB  T6E 2L1

Phone numbers stay the same (thank you cell phones and Vonage).

Pictures will come eventually.

That is all.

Matt's dad died very unexpectedly last Saturday evening; he had a massive heart attack and collapsed in the train station.  We're in Chicago now.  There's a service tonight at his dad's church and then we're driving to Pennsylvania with his dad's ashes for the interment and another service at Woodside in Yardley on Saturday at 11 a.m. 

or, 48 Hours of Very Bad Luck, an Explication of the Unfortunate Circumstances Imperiling our Plucky Heroine, who could Really Use a Drink or Seven


I have never considered myself a particularly lucky person, but up until this point, I've never considered myself to be particularly unlucky, either.  However, in light of the events of the past 48 hours, I may have to rethink my stance.  Truly, the only explanation is that I have angered some higher power, and must make restitution, perhaps involving chickens.  We begin, dear Reader, with Thursday.

On Thursday, which was the last day of two weeks of research at Bamfield Marine Science Station, nearly everything which could in any way go wrong, did so; as what I was doing during the past 48 hours involved research and travel, those are the two broad categories.  For purposes of neatness, we will include one more category, entitled Weird and Creepy Shit.

Of course, research is prone to disaster as nothing else is, and so it should not surprise you that on Thursday morning, I discovered that the two populations of sea squirts I had collected, which I had been hoping would show differences and which seemed to be doing so, were in fact different species.  On Thursday afternoon, I found that the plaster cubes I had deployed in the inlets for measurement of water movement had not dissolved at different rates in different rates of flow over a 24 hour period, but had instead fallen directly off.  Thursday evening, it was brought to my attention that the data recorder for my flowmeter had apparently decided it was too much bother to record data, and had instead recorded only zeroes. 

While these occurrences were delightful in and of themselves, when joined by the rather more impressive inconveniences in the category of Travel, they become not merely potholes in the golden road to a dissertation, but part of a sinister campaign on the part of the universe to grind me down.  At 5 p.m. on Thursday, while I and a volunteer research assistant were out in the middle of Barkley Sound, we found that as a result of what can only be described as an insanely boneheaded move on my part, we were out of gas.  Sadly, the tiny, rocky islet we were on did not have a gas station, and so we had to radio for help back to the station and then wait for someone to come out with a container.  In the process, I spilled marine gas all over my sweatshirt.

When we got back, I discovered after dinner that my ride to the airport (about 4 hours away, 2 of which is on pothole- and washboard-laden gravel logging road) could not start his car.  Well, actually, the car did start, but then it caught on fire.  I found another ride, but he was only going to Port Alberni, so I would have to take two buses and a taxi to get to the airport.  I finished packing up my lab gear by about 10:30 and went back to the place I was staying.  When I say "went," I mean "walked a kilometer carrying all my stuff," because Alex's truck wouldn't start either.

The next day was tedious but uneventful for most of the morning and into the afternoon, but the universe was just biding its time.  At 4:30, after spending 2 hours waiting for buses and 3 hours actually on them, after I was only four miles away from the airport, after I could practically taste the airplane peanuts, I discovered that my flight had been canceled.  The next flight out of that airport was Sunday.  So I spent another 2 hours waiting and 4 hours on two more buses, which got me to Victoria, where I got to spend 5 hours in a hotel (at, I calculate, $13/hour) before dragging my ass to the Victoria International Airport and catching the 7 am flight back to Edmonton.

While I was in the hotel, the apartment building across the parking lot caught fire.

Molly Ivins, the sharpest, funniest, best political writer I've ever known, died today of breast cancer. She was only 62.

"There are two kinds of humor. One kind that makes us chuckle about our foibles and our shared humanity—like what Garrison Keillor does. The other kind holds people up to public contempt and ridicule—that’s what I do. Satire is traditionally the weapon of the powerless against the powerful. I only aim at the powerful. When satire is aimed at the powerless, it is not only cruel—it’s vulgar."

Matt and I won the People's Choice Award at the departmental Annual Chili Cookoff, and we came in second with the judges; next year, we're totally going to win (and then we will TAKE OVER THE WORLD!).

I want this house -- want!

After six years with the same pair, I'm getting NEW GLASSES!  They are nearly identical to my old ones, which should come as no surprise to anyone, since I love these glasses.  The new ones are a little bit squarer, but that's all.  The nifty part, though, is that they're Transitions -- thank you Costco and your ridiculously good prices on eyewear.  I have shown myself to be completely incapable of taking care of sunglasses, but I've obviously done a good job with my actual glasses and my prescription is pretty darn stable, so it made a lot more sense to get the Transitions than to keep spending $20 on cheap sunglasses every summer, destroying them by fall, and squinting the rest of the year.  Hooray!  They should be in in a week or so; I'll post pictures when I get them.

I bought my tickets yesterday, by the way. I leave Edmonton at 12:30 a.m. Christmas Day and get into Boston by 10:30 a.m., which, when I look at it right there, it looks like I'm going back in time. But perhaps I'm just rather tired. I'm in the Northeast until the 5th (Friday), which is very exciting. I will be doing my best to run around and see everybody while I'm there, so if you live in Massachusetts or surrounding states and you'll be around, let me know!

In other news, the wind chill today is NEGATIVE FORTY-THREE. I would like to repeat that, in much larger letters and possibly italicized: NEGATIVE FORTY-THREE DEGREES FAHRENHEIT. Weather Underground is referring to that as an "extreme" wind chill.  If this keeps up, I'm going to cut eyeholes in a comforter and wear it over my head in the manner of your typical ghost costume, but with more padding.  It will look absolutely ridiculous and small children will probably point and laugh (or scream and run), but at least I'll be warm and my nose won't fall off.

Also, the subway froze to the tracks this morning.

Reasons not to move to Edmonton: this morning, the thermometer outside my window says it is negative twenty-five degrees Fahrenheit in our fair city.

*sniffle SNIFFLE snuuurk* oh, the pretty pretty horsies. this is for everyone who cried at the end of Free Willy.

We are having everyone in the world over for dinner, and this is what we're serving:

Artichoke & spinach dip with homemade bread

Roasted squash soup
Roast turkey with stuffing
Mashed potatoes
Candied carrots
Green beans sautéed with leeks
Peas
Creamed onions
Dinner rolls with herbed butter

Sweet potato pie
Boston cream pie

Mmmmmm, Thanksgiving, how tasty you are

Why I heart Canadian healthcare: my copay for birth control this morning was THIRTY CENTS.

Kinnie Starr is pretty awesome, and La Le La La, off her new album, is adorable and infectious and features Tegan from Tegan & Sara in the background, and you should listen to it right now, and maybe even download it from her Myspace page.

Jonathan Coulton's reimagining of Baby Got Back as a sincere, sweet ballad with choral accompaniment has snapped something in my head.

Well, Matt fux0red the alarm this morning, but fortunately I woke up randomly at 5 a.m. and drove him to the airport, so he didn't miss his 6:30 a.m. two-layover flight to Middle of Freaking Nowhere, Texas and (sad face) I get to spend the rest of the week alone with the kitty -- come to think of it, it might have been best for all of us if I'd just slept in.

I have a committee meeting at the end of this month -- panicking commences now.

The first lab report I graded took 45 minutes and received a 54 out of 100 -- I devoutly hope this is not an omen.

So for those of you who like me are lame and hadn't seen it yet, Weird Al's White and Nerdy, possibly the most entertaining thing since attacking the darkness.

And lo, the snow hath fallen and it hath stucken, even though the turning of the seasons hath reached only mid-fall, and all who live in Edmonton in their despair have completely forgotten how to drive.