two down!

i finished another month's worth of daily photos. :-D

through a lens calmly

parties freak me out.

i’m a writer and i’m a shy person. i’m quiet. i like to observe. i like to be inconspicuous. i like to blend into the wallpaper. i like to be home and in my pyjamas early. parties usually require, if not demand, you not be any of those things. as such, parties and i do not get along.

at parties, i get nervous. i always feel awkward and self-conscious, as though i’m suddenly 12 years old and at the school dance. i feel like i immediately morph into a socially awkward dweeb. a moron with the grace of a linebacker.

i’m not very good at small talk and i frequently get all stumbly and stutter-y. i feel like everything that comes out of my mouth lands with a big clunk on the floor in front of me and i often want to leave the party almost as soon as i’ve arrived. sometimes i do.

but yesterday i discovered the magic cloak of a camera lens.

i was at a party where, even though i knew everyone in attendance, all those familiar, party-panic feelings arose. i could feel myself eyeing the clock and mentally calculating when i could head for the door.

and then i was handed a Fancy Camera and told, “here, take some pictures!”

wait. what?

it was a full-frame-format nikon D700 with a 50mm f1.4 lens (i asked), which meant i could snap photos in dim light (without a flash) and still have the images turn out well-lit. the camera is expensive and the size of a small tank... and, much to my delight, i got to play with it for the rest of the night.

suddenly, i had a purpose. i could be alone at the party and not feel bad or self-conscious or mortified about it because i had something to do. i could circulate and be a part of the proceedings at a comfortable distance. i could wield the hulking device strapped around my neck, peer through the viewfinder and watch and record and capture moments from the proverbial shadows. i could be present without having to be in the spotlight.

when the music was cranked high and folks hit the dance floor, i hung back. i hang back, it’s what i do. i don’t dance (in public) and i don’t drink (anywhere), so i don’t use hooch to grease the comfort wheels enough to get me to dance freely when other people might see me. this time, though, i could avoid feeling like a wooden lump and, instead, occupy myself by snapping pictures. i could wind my way through a tangle of bodies to aim the lens and shoot. i could sit on the floor and try weird angles and maneuvre through the room without focusing on how i looked or what anyone might think.

and, in doing so, i was able to relax. i love photography and can lose myself in it, so it was fun. i was happy to be the designated photographer for the night. having the camera in front of me was like wearing something of a protective shield. (until, of course, it was forcibly removed and i was literally dragged by my waist to the dance floor, but that's another story.)

i still don’t like parties. i’m still a subdued observer. i’m still a shy person and a wallflower at heart. and i would still rather stay home.

fortunately, though, i now know that relief from some of those queasy-stomach, i-want-to-disappear feelings might be as close as a shutter-release button.

and that i might survive a party by busying myself taking shots like this one (from last night’s shindig):

a walk shot: lost & confused

walkin' with val

in about an hour, i’ll be heading out for a saturday walk with my friend valerie. it’s our first Real Walk in a long time, and i’m very much looking forward to it.

years and years ago, valerie and i worked together. neither of us can remember exactly when or why or how we started going for walks together, but we know it was sometime around 1997 or 1998. that's 13 years of walking, folks.

we don’t know who asked whom, or where we went on our inaugural walk, but we know it was soon after she left the company that we started heading out once a season for an Epic Walk – usually several hours of walking, with a meal at some point. we never had a preset path or destination when we’d begin; we’d just pick a spot to meet, then randomly choose directions and turns and stops as we went along. if one of us suddenly felt like rounding a corner, we would. if the other wanted to meander down a particular street, so be it. criss-cross a ravine? why not! spontaneity kept our routes interesting and, usually, completely unique from walk to walk.

during the walks, we would talk. and talk and talk and talk and talk. we’d vent or rant, if needed, or seek advice where warranted, or share good news. we’d work through problems and walk out stress at the same time. by the time we’d finish, we were physically exhausted and emotionally refreshed.

one of the best walks we ever took, and one that will forever be burned into our memories and hip flexors, is the one that has since been dubbed “the great blizzard walk of 2001.” we both love walking in snow, and we weren’t about to let a daunting forecast thwart our walk plans, so we wound up walking for somewhere around six hours during a snowstorm.

six hours.

through shin-deep snow already blanketing (deserted) sidewalks, blowing winds and more fresh wet snow falling throughout our entire promenade. we were both soaked through our down jackets by the time we sat down in a deli mid-walk to dry off for a bit and eat lunch. once we’d reheated ourselves, we carried on. later that afternoon, i hobbled through my door at hell house, took a hot hot bath and then... could barely walk for a few days following.

still. totally worth it.

valerie’s long been one of my closest confidantes, and she and our walks have seen me through many a difficult time. a couple of years ago, we temporarily suspended them (and resorted to regular, lengthy phone dates instead) due to valerie’s pregnancy and subsequent new baby... but now her wee son’s got his own thing (toddler soccer!) happenin’ on saturdays, so it’s time for us to lace up and start again.

yay!

win, lose or draw a picture of a pony

i’m eight weeks into The Artist’s Way’s creativity-recovery workshop, and it never ceases to amaze me how fitting, timing-wise, each chapter seems to be during the week that i read it.

this week’s chapter is all about recovering a sense of strength, which is certainly something i’ve been working on for a while and something any artist needs. strength. confidence. belief in oneself.

though the chapter covers assorted points, three key concepts really resonated with me:

* the problem of focusing on product instead of process

* the benefit of always moving forward, even if it’s only one baby step at a time, and...

* the idea of gains “disguised” as loss.

all three sections felt as though they were written just for me.

so often (if not always), i get caught up in the end result of a project or undertaking or endeavour or idea, instead of actually working on it. instead of doing, i get lost in thinking.

i worry about what’ll happen when it’s done, if it’ll even get done at all. i stress about whether people will like it, whether *i* will like it, whether it’s a stupid idea, whether i should try something else... and on and on. looking back, i could have written dozens of screenplays in all the time i’ve wasted over the years wondering about the what ifs – what ifs that didn’t actually mean anything since all the what iffing actually thwarted any progress and left me inert in the first place.

as with life, the key, says julia cameron, is embarking on the journey – engaging in the process – and celebrating that.

celebrating the effort instead of the result.

just doing it, whatever “it” is – writing that screenplay, painting that canvas, playing that sonata, performing that soliloquy – and cheering for yourself (loudly, whole-heartedly) for having done it. this is something i very rarely, if ever do. as with many artists, i’m much more apt to hone in on all the flaws and mistakes of a finished product than to actually celebrate that i have a product that’s finished.

the second concept, moving forward, is nothing new or revolutionary. the advice wasn’t anything i hadn’t heard before, but the context was slightly different and skewed in a way that spoke to me. basically, it’s encouragement to keep doing whatever it is you love/want/need to do creatively a little at a time. one thing, however small, every day. each tiny pebble slowly, over time, building the mountain of your dreams or goals or plans. doodling on a notepad, writing a couplet, practicing your welsh accent, learning a new piece of music.

julia cameron cites a few examples of people who do this well, including a renowned actress who is always working – when she’s not on a paid job, she takes classes, offers her talents for play readings, teaches students, volunteers with acting-related outlets. she’s always got her toe in the water and, therefore, never loses her connection to her art.

i totally need to do that. more often, i mean. this blog ensures that i write something on most days, but i know there’s room for more focus on creative work. it’s not about sitting down and writing a whole screenplay or novel all at once, but maybe writing one page a day.

it was concept #3, though – losses that are actually gains – that was especially potent.

cameron says you absolutely must mourn your creative losses – the book that didn’t get published, the role you wanted but didn’t get, the script that didn’t sell – because failing to do so creates “scar tissue.” but, she notes, you should not mourn them to the degree that it actually paralyzes you.

acknowledge the loss, grieve it, but then find the kernel of good within it. figure out what you learned, what you gained, what new door might open as a result... what you actually gained by “losing.”

this was a huge one for me, especially given my past year or so.

after the screenplay reading in december 2009, and despite plans to keep that project moving forward, it completely fell apart in my hands within weeks. though there were other life things (like a difficult preceding year with barely any paid work) helping to slam me into the proverbial wall, the evaporation of this particular project certainly added to a significant creative, and emotional, collapse. i mourned the loss but also let it swallow me whole. i became so fixated on it that any gain was immediately rendered invisible, and i definitely did not congratulate myself for simply having made the effort. at all. i completely erased the importance of the process because all i could see was the product: failure.

for a while, as i shared here at the time, i didn’t want to write anything, didn’t feel like i had any talent, didn’t have any ideas, and was pretty sure none would be worth pursuing even if i had them. though that sort of derailing had happened to me before on occasion, it had never been quite to that extent... perhaps because i’d never gone that far before, so losing it became much more pronounced.

it took me a while, but i eventually stepped far enough away that i was able to pick out the gains from the rubble of that loss, and to feel good about what i did accomplish instead of being consumed by what went awry.

slowly, ideas began to sprout. and then i started writing things again – not necessarily great things, but things nonetheless. and, baby step by baby step, celebrating the process, finding the gains, life got better and brighter. now i’m paying more attention to caring for myself and my creativity than i have in a long time.

the key for me will be remembering the sage advice of The Artist’s Way and continuing to follow it as i proceed. old habits really do die hard, and i’ve not yet fully paved over the well-worn paths i created over the years.

but i’m hoping that, as the workshop goes on and reminders keep coming and my work moves forward alongside my creative aspirations, i will continue to get my groove back.

from the wrapper of my Dove Caramel™ chocolate:

"if you live in the present, every moment is a new beginning."

trip tales

* as cod correctly surmised, i tossed the room at our favourite hotel immediately upon arrival. the property is made up of two buildings and, much to our relief, our room was in the building that hadn’t reported bed bugs. still. i was meticulous and essentially stripped both beds completely. it’s funny, years ago i would have been too grossed out about cooties to touch a hotel mattress. now? i’m inspecting every seam like a CSI tech. without gloves. thankfully, i found no evidence of bed bugs. hair? check. crumbs? check. debris of indeterminate origin? you bet. but no bugs. and, even though the search turned up nothing, relaxing in the room was difficult. i couldn’t get the thought of bed bugs out of my head, and had a hard time sleeping. or sitting on the bed. or putting my shoes on the floor.

* sleep at that hotel was also challenging due to the defective heating system in the room. oh, it provided heat just fine, and the room was toasty, but anytime the heater went on or off it clanged repeatedly. and LOUDLY. for about two minutes each cycle... and the cycles came about every six or seven minutes. on friday night, i went to bed at 11pm and was still wide awake at 1:30am, wondering how i was going to function on zero sleep and how cold the room would get if i turned the heat off altogether. i passed the time counting the seconds between clangs, and imagining a blissful silence that never came... until i had an idea. since the noise happened whenever the heater turned on or off, all i had to do was make sure it neither went on nor off! “but vickie, how would you do that?” i hear you asking. by turning the temperature UP, enduring the clanging, and then turning the temperature DOWN a degree or two so the heater would shut off until such time as the thermostat dropped to the lower temperature, kicking the heater back on. then i’d get up and turn the temperature another degree cooler. i did this in the pitch dark, btw, so i was hoping i didn’t inadvertently turn the room into a fridge. but it worked! i did it for the first time at 2am and, within minutes, had silence for an hour and 15 minutes. i know it was that amount of time because the clanging woke me from my slumber just after 3:15am.  so, i slept in small chunks for the rest of the night, getting up every hour or two to make the clanging go away. (on night two, i just craaanked the heat before we hit the hay, then dropped the thermostat about seven degrees... which bought me several hours of quiet. trix, btw, says she didn’t notice the noise at all!)

* we had two full, exhaustive days of shopping. day one, friday, most of the stores and malls were still empty. the holiday weekends in ontario and the U.S. hadn’t begun, so the canadians hadn’t yet flooded in. the dollar was above par in our favour, so by saturday morning we saw a TON of ontario license plates in parking lots across the city. there was also a snowstorm on saturday, which slowed us down a smidge and resulted in the purchase of thermal underwear, but we squeezed every ounce of shopping out of our time away. most of what we bought consisted of small-ticket items, so even though we felt like our haul was substantial, neither of broke $100 (total).

* auntie anne’s pretzels and ted’s hot dogs are delicious for breakfast, lunch or dinner.

* after searching far and wide, and trying on countless pairs at assorted retailers, i found keens on our way back to ontario. they were waiting for me at an unassuming store in a log cabin (seriously), and it was only by accident that i saw “keen shoes” listed among the brands on their sign.

* we then drove to niagara-on-the-lake and checked into this hotel, which was GORGEOUS. i’ve only ever stayed at a four-star hotel once before in my life, years ago, when my mom and i went to chicago and our hotel had inadvertently overbooked themselves so they sent us to the four seasons on their dime. the fact that we’d just come from a no-frills, budget hotel just amplified the elegance. still, i tossed this room the same way i’d tossed the previous one – just because a place is fancy or expensive doesn’t make it immune to bed bugs. thankfully, i found none and, this time, was not all hesitant about sitting (and bouncing) on my bed. four enormous pillows per bed! comforters! pristine white sheets without weird stains or hair! neither of us could believe how nice everything was, and how swanky the digs were. the high-season rate for our room, we discovered, is $450/night. i nearly did a spit take when i saw that on the back of the door. we paid a fraction of that price! god bless winter.

* that said, it was fuh-REEEEZING out, but we braved the frigid temperatures and winds and went for a walk through the town. my sole goal was to visit maple leaf fudge, makers of THE best fudge on the planet. i’ve been eating their fudge, which they sell at the CNE, since i was a girl, but i’d never before been to the holy land of their store and confectionery. i was beside myself with excitement as we neared its doors. we walked in and there before me were rows and rows of fudge in all manner of flavours. i’m a purist, and bought maple... which was creamy and smooth and beyond delicious. i’d only ever had their products at other venues, when the slices of fudge were a little less fresh, so having it straight off the rack was amazing. worth every penny. i’m just sorry i only bought one slice – i should have bought a few and frozen them for consumption later. lesson learned.

* given the weather, our promenade was short. but YB and i both agreed that the area, especially the lllllllllllllong trail that runs along the niagara river, is ripe for exploring. as such, we might make a day trip out there before the high season, and the shaw festival, take over. we ended the afternoon touring the hotel and snapping some photos.

* another snowstorm hit just as trix was heading out to her friend’s wedding. the forecast was for heavy snow and treacherous driving, so she was really not looking forward to a 20-minute drive along winding, unlit country road at night. she made sure she brought along provisions – warm clothes, water, snacks, her cell phone – in case of emergency, and said she planned to be back before the snow got too deep.

* me? i decided to give myself a spa night. for the first time in my life, i took a bath in a soaker tub. i’d never had one before and i’d certainly never been in a hotel room that had a bathtub in which i’d actually dare sit, but the one in this bathroom was just too deep and stunning and clean for me not to indulge... so i did. i was still a little chilled from the day, so i filled ‘er up with piping hot water and sank in. so wonderful. i then lounged, watched TV, did my creativity-recovery homework (yep, even on vacation!) and chatted with mom, who called to see how everything had gone. trix returned early, and reported that she’d endured the most harrowing drive of her life getting back to the hotel. she was very relieved to be off the roads, and said driving had been worse than she’d imagined it would be. she had no second thoughts about cutting out early on the reception and missing half the meal, and was happy to relax in the room for the rest of the night.

* monday morning, we ate in the hotel’s dining room, where trix opted for the buffet and i ordered what turned out t o be the biggest blueberry pancakes i have ever seen. they were the size of dinner plates. i ate as much as i could – along with the maple syrup and sweet pecan butter – but called “uncle” a little more than halfway through.

* then we packed up our ziploc bags, which we proudly carried through the lobby of this glamourous hotel, and unburied the car from snow. we packed the trunk and headed home.

* fin.

in brief: back!

YB and i had a fun -- if unexpectedly snowy and COLD -- weekend away.

i've returned with fudge, keens, candy and several new pieces of thermal underwear (see: above).

stories to come...

armed and ready

i have packed my stuff for the weekend and ziplocked it all into place:

voila!

seriously, these ziploc big bags are amazing. huge, durable and with handles. the one shown in the photo above is actually the smallest of the big bags. the bigger one -- into which that one, plus my down jacket, plus my knapsack will go -- is more than twice its size.

there are bags of all sizes, for all manner of things, packed within other bags, and i've bagged each day's clothes separately. there's an empty ziploc bag for the dirty laundry as it accumulates, and a few spare bags for anything i suddenly realize i need to pack.

i am erring on the side of hyper-vigilance, yes, but i'd much rather be safe than sorry. if that means i carry my clothes in and out of the hotel in sealed plastic bags, so be it. nonetheless, please say a prayer or light a candle or hold good thoughts that the hotels are both completely bug-free. thanks. i'm still extreeeemely anxious, but also hoping that facing my fears will ease the anxiety somewhat in the long run.

this evening, i will head to trixie's place, from which we'll leave at the ass-crack of dawn tomorrow. (on the road at 6:30am! at the border by 8am!)

then it's onwards to target popcorn, auntie anne's pretzels and lemonade, keen shoes, macy's, the cheesecake factory (maybe), kohl's, ted's hot dogs (omg), walgreens, IHOP and retailers who know how to hold a sale. bernard's coming with, and so is the camera, of course.

as such, as an FYI, i'll be offline and this blog and the photo blog will be dormant for several days.

fingers crossed...

the second date

(once again: not that kind of date.)

when i began my creativity-recovery workshop back on january 1st, one of the weekly assignments was an artist date. i went on my first date on january 6th, and planned to keep that weekly date no matter what.

i had been warned, both by the person who recommended The Artist’s Way to me and by author julia cameron herself within the book’s pages, that the weekly artist date is, for some, the hardest assignment of all to complete regularly.

i scoffed.

i loved the idea of taking a couple of hours each week to nourish my soul and enrich my creativity, and i was looking forward to coming up with all kinds of fun and interesting activities to treat my inner artist. i figured it would actually be the easiest portion of the workshop, since i’m quite good at doing anything but actually sitting down to write.

so, i came roaring out of the gate (relatively speaking), went on date #1 and then...

crickets.

tumbleweeds.

clock hands spinning.

day turning to night.

calendar pages flying off.

uh oh.

i think the following week i skipped the artist date because of work.

then, two more weeks passed because i was sick (week one) and had an annoying cough (week two).

i’m pretty sure i have no good reason for missing the weeks that followed.

as time went by, i felt like i was letting myself and the process down. not only were the artist dates falling by the wayside, but so were the rest of the weekly homework assignments. i kept intending to sit down and do hours of catch-up, but more days would pass and the tasks would pile up further and, soon, i just thought, “maybe i should start this whole workshop over again from the beginning.”

which is something i may still do.

the only portion of the course that i’ve maintained without fail are the daily pages. but even those are done at random times during the day, different every day, instead of first thing in the morning as the program dictates. i’ve wanted to get back on the horse properly, but have become adept at finding excuses not to – again, something the book cautioned would happen.

and then today happened.

i woke up this morning, flushed the toilet and noticed that the tank did not refill with water. uh oh. i tried the faucet. nuthin’. there was no water.

i called the super and she said that a pipe had broken elsewhere in the building, and that several tenants (not me, thankfully) would have to have their (cement!) walls broken open to accommodate repairs.

oh, and the water, all the water, would be off until mid-afternoon.

ah.

seeing as i had little interest in sitting in my water-less apartment for the next five hours, i decided to head elsewhere. i thought about a long walk, then considered going to see a movie, and then it hit me.

here was a chunk of time where i couldn’t really do work, so how could i make the most of it?

artist date!

so, after running some errands this morning, i took myself on my second official artist date. i headed to another near-100-year-old church nearby to attend their wednesday afternoon organ recital. the building itself was cavernous but somewhat austere – more cement than rich wood, and not quite as photogenic as i’d hoped when i looked at it from the outside. it was, however, serene and steeped in history.

i walked around inside for a bit, took a few pictures, and then settled into a pew to meditate for a few minutes before the recital. once again, as with my similarly themed first artist date, the audience in the church consisted of me and about two dozen seniors, but that was fine. the music selection was okay, some of it a smidge overwhelming more than contemplative, but that was fine. (it was, after all, a giant pipe organ, so a certain booming heaviness is to be expected.)

i was just happy to have climbed back onto a horse i never thought i’d abandon, and to spend half an hour refilling my creative well in a new way.

and i really hope it’s not another five weeks before i take myself on date #3.

message received

twice today, valentine's day, the universe gave me a gentle but firm smack in the back of the head. they were smacks i think i needed, and know i appreciated.

the first occurred when i went to my chiropractor's office and, as i do every time i visit, pulled a random card from a deck of motivational messages that's always stacked at the reception desk. i pull one each time i'm there to see what pearl of wisdom or insight or guidance the card might offer. on one side is written a sentence or two, which provides the governing message, and the other side is a more detailed explanation.

today, i picked up the deck, randomly selected a card and then read it:

"my future is not about my past."

and the reverse explained (in more eloquent terms than i'm using here) that the future is open to possibility, a blank slate, and that retelling or dwelling on negative stories/moments/feelings/experiences from the past only serves to keep you stuck there.

it's nothing i didn't already know, or hadn't heard before, but it seemed especially potent, and fitting, today.

then, tonight, a friend of mine posted the following video on facebook. i absolutely loved it and, again, it was exactly the message i needed at precisely the right time:

okay, universe, smacks -- and messages -- received.

keep hope alive?

tomorrow is valentine’s day.

i debated whether to address it at all, or just not blog until later in the week because, i thought, what do i know about love? who am i to write about it? 

for me, love – the romantic kind, anyway – has always been the realm of the wistful, the hoped-for, the unrequited, the theoretical, the fantasy. not reality. nothing has changed since i made this valentine's wish back in 2009. except, i suppose, that two more years have passed.

and, as time has continued to tick on, i’ve slowly begun to accept that maybe the way my life has been is how it will always be for me. 

maybe my valentine’s wish will never come true.

so, maybe i should just stop hoping it will.

maybe my life would be easier if i did.

for a long time, hope is what kept me going. i was always certain things would change if i just waited a little longer or tried a little harder or believed a little more. but endless hoping can become exhausting. and, when results fail to materialize, discouraging. 

to see something happening all around you, everywhere you look, every single day, and to have never experienced it yourself, to feel like it’s always just out of reach, is incredibly difficult. it’s heartbreaking and, for me, something of which i’ve also felt deeply ashamed. 

in four months, i will turn 40 never having had anyone hold my hand, or kiss me goodnight, or say “i love you.” i am missing this enormous yet basic part of the human experience, and trying to reconcile myself with that as i get older has become harder with each passing year. 

it’s not the kind of thing that just makes you sad on valentine’s day, or bums you out on your birthday. it’s the kind of thing that, over time, destroys you inside. and, in some ways, i feel like my wish and that hope have morphed into a lead apron under which my spirit is slowly eroding. so, maybe, it’s time to hang it up.

and i guess i mean that in a slightly more positive way than it probably sounds. 

maybe that amazing woman of my dreams, who’ll find me equally amazing, really doesn’t exist. maybe she really is just an illusion, a mirage conjured by my wishful thinking as i stumble through an endless romantic desert. maybe the salve of hoping she's out there has become more of a scourge. i already know i’m not interested in settling for “good enough, i guess” or “she’ll do” or “better than nothing.” so maybe it’s time to hope for something different. maybe it’s time to consider, in a very real way, a future where i remain by myself. 

maybe this is it. 

maybe.

if it is, or in case it is, then maybe i need to get on board instead of spending my life waiting – and hoping – for something that will never arrive. to stop swimming upstream, as it were, and embrace the current instead of fighting it. my heart would certainly be less bruised if i did, and maybe coping with loneliness would become easier. maybe i’d even celebrate solitude.

so, maybe this year, on this valentine’s day, i’ll wish for the ability to accept myself as i am, and my life as it is, so i can continue to move forward.

and, instead of wishing for a valentine, maybe a better wish would be to learn to love myself enough not to care that i've never had one.

musical interlude

daydream: fin

i was sitting on the subway earlier tonight, headed downtown.

the subway pulled into a station and a beautiful woman got on. like, model beautiful. dressed-down, super-casual, i-don't-realize-i'm-stunning model beautiful. heidi klum on her day off beautiful.

and, as she stepped inside the car, she looked right at me and gave me this great big smile. then she sat down directly opposite me.

in about three seconds, my imagination had us meeting, dating, falling in love and living happily ever after.

then i looked down at her left hand.

engagement ring and wedding ring.

nevermind.

*gulp*

two weekends from now, YB and i will be staying at a hotel that, last june, had bed bugs.

and i am doing my best not to panic.

one of trix’s friends is getting married in niagara-on-the-lake, which is just a stone’s throw from the U.S. border (relatively speaking), so we’re heading down early and spending a couple of nights in buffalo. it’s just too close not to.

thing is, before booking our favourite buffalo hotel, we each (independently) doublechecked that it hadn’t had any bed bug reports since our last stay there (feb. 2010). we’ve stayed at this hotel multiple times over the years. it’s very affordable, in a convenient location and always clean. nonetheless, we wanted to make sure it had remained that way since last we visited.

it had not.

a quick check over at the bed bug registry revealed that, on my birthday (!) last year, someone stayed in one of the rooms, and both she and her daughter were bitten by bed bugs. she gave the room number, said the hotel immediately shut down her room and the ones surrounding it, and gave her a full refund.

i felt sick as soon as i read the report, and could feel panic rising. i emailed YB, and she said she, too, had just seen the report and wondered what we should do.

for several days, we weighed our options:

1. skip buffalo altogether

2. go to buffalo but stay somewhere else

3. go to buffalo and stay at our usual hotel, employing every precaution we knew of and hoping the hotel had fixed their problem in the eight months since the report

normally, i wouldn’t go anywhere NEAR a hotel if bed bugs had EVER been found there, but this place has always been our home away from home while cross-border shopping, and i wasn’t entirely sure i wanted to give up on it outright.

so.

i called the hotel.

i said to trix, “if they deny they ever had bed bugs, we’re not staying there.”

but, when i phoned, the front-desk clerk said yes, they did have a bed-bug issue last summer, but that it had been fully resolved.

“so, there haven’t been any further incidents?” i asked.

“no, it’s been resolved,” she said... sounding a little annoyed, as though i wasn’t the first person to call with these questions. i did, however, find her honesty refreshing.

i relayed the info to YB, and we continued our deliberations. what to do? what to do?

staying in a hotel that once had bed bugs might mean some bed bugs still existed... but it might also mean it would be a location that has become hyper-vigilant about preventing their return.

staying in a hotel that had never had bed bugs (at least in terms of online reports) might mean there aren’t any on the premises... but it might also mean that past bed-bug issues were never publicly reported OR that the hotel might be more lax in terms of maintenance and prevention.

the more we thought, and the more my mind raced through a series of horrible scenarios, the tougher our decision-making became.

for some reason, my mind kept drifting to, “whichever choice we make will be the wrong one.” my deeply embedded terror over bed bugs was whispering that they’d show up no matter where we stayed, and i really started to think about skipping the U.S. shopping – no small sacrifice considering it’ll be presidents’ day weekend and, with it, presidents’ day SALES.

then i started rationalizing: wait. i’m a smart person. i’m hyper-vigilant. i can strip the beds in the room and fully check every nook and cranny. it’ll be about a 15-minute process, but 15 minutes well-spent. i can take sound precautions to prevent bringing any bed bugs home with me if there are any in the room that are so well-hidden i can’t spot them. there are jumbo-sized ziploc bags into which i can put my clothes, and i can put those bags into one i can either wash or throw away after check-out (as opposed to bringing my things in a suitcase or gym bag).

all important preventative measures.

still, i was seriously uncertain, as was trix.

and then a funny thing happened: the report on the bed bug registry disappeared. they have a policy in place that no report will be removed unless it’s been two years with no subsequent reports, or if the property in question resolves the issue and the report’s original author gives permission for the report to be taken down.

i checked and rechecked, and only a cached version of the report for our hotel existed.

which means the site took it down.

which means the hotel contacted the BBR and requested it be removed.

which means the original author said, “okay. i believe they fixed the problem. you can take my review off the website.”

for some reason, i found this new development somewhat comforting, and also a bit of an eye-opener. it’s entirely possible, after all, that some of the seemingly report-free hotels HAVE had bed bug reports, as well, but the problems have been resolved and the reports removed without me ever knowing they existed. so, choosing another hotel on the grounds that it has no reports on record actually doesn’t guarantee anything.

the key is being prepared and cautious. two things i can certainly do... and two things a once more-skeptical YB has now also realized are very important.

ever since her co-worker had bed bugs last summer/fall, and came to work ravaged with itchy red bumps day after day and tales of her bed-bug horror, trix has been much more tuned-in to what a potential nightmare these teeny, bloodthirsty, resilient insects can be. then, just before christmas, she found out that another friend had inadvertently brought bed bugs home from a hotel in las vegas – bed bugs that subsequently infested his family’s house here in toronto, resulting in a few thousand dollars’ worth of extermination costs and a healthy dose of psychological trauma.

anyway...

after a brief discussion, we both agreed to fully prep ourselves and our stuff accordingly, and to book our usual hotel. we will be on high alert and very careful. again, the hotel says it’s resolved the problem, so hopefully that’s true and the entire place is completely bug-free. right now, i’m still feeling mighty anxious, but i’m hoping that subsides once we check in with our hazmat gear and give our room an all-clear.

after all, target popcorn, auntie anne’s pretzels and a new pair of keen hiking shoes await me across the border, and they’re worth the extra hassle.

"that's my girl!! proudaya"

everyone needs cheerleaders. i know i do.

it's nice to feel like people are rooting for you, offering encouragement and support from the sidelines as you muddle through life. it can boost your mood when you're down, spur you to greater action when you're already on a roll, or just remind you that someone somewhere notices.

notices you. notices what you do. and cares enough to say so.

i have a small but wonderful team of cheerleaders, who never fail to celebrate my victories, no matter how fleeting or frivolous. they're the first to sound the "hip hip hooray!" on those occasions when success, marginal or otherwise, lands on my doorstep, and their acknowledgment is consistent and heartfelt.

i am profoundly grateful for each kind word and good thought and goofy emoticon.

and just felt compelled to give thanks tonight.

annnnnd... done!

i finished my script-editing job tonight.

i met the deadline that *i* had set, even though i worried i wouldn't get it done on time.

it took just under 60 hours.

it was monotonous but weirdly meditative.

it destroyed the pause button on my DVD player.

it had me seeing timecodes in my sleep.

but it made me happy.

it gave me a whole new appreciation for a canadian-made television series and its cast.

and it's left me with such an immense sense of personal and professional satisfaction that i did it.

yay!

we got a... snowfall

cue the sad-trombone "wah waaaaaah."

what was touted as the biggest snowstorm in years turned out to be little more than a very windy, pretty ordinary snowfall. at least here in toronto.

i went to bed last night feeling a bit like it was christmas eve. i was filled with anticipation over what the morning would bring -- huge snowdrifts? whiteout conditions? empty, pristine, snow-filled streets and sidewalks just waiting for me to embark on a blissfully silent and snowy walk? i couldn't wait!

and then i woke up today.

before even getting out of bed, i quickly turned on the TV to see what was happening on the local news. all the stations had (yesterday) promised full storm coverage, and each of them had their graphics department come up with cheesy storm-team or storm-watch or storm-centre logos.

but when i flipped on one of the morning shows, i saw its host standing outside... in what looked like a fairly underwhelming flurry.

"what?!"

i immediately got out of bed and hurried to my windows, a little panicked more than excited, certain the storm must still be raging outside. after all, they'd called it "a blizzard" a few times yesterday, so surely the skies would still be vomiting snow onto a city already blanketed with a foot of it.

when i pulled open the curtains and raised the blinds, i could feel myself deflate.

yes, there was snow outside, but not nearly as much as they'd predicted. there were no pretty drifts. the roads and sidewalks were snowy but passable, and i could see people easily walking through what looked like a couple of inches at best.

the snow that was still falling didn't look all that plentiful, and a quick channel-flip over to the weather network revealed via satellite that the "storm" had already moved out of toronto. what was outside was pretty much it, as the remaining snow will slowly taper off through the morning.

it's not particularly pretty outside, nor is it shocking or awe-inspiring -- it just looks like we got some snow. period. there's nothing exceptional about the snowfall... except, perhaps, the degree to which all the meteorologists wuh-HAAAAAAAY overestimated what we'd get. i don't even think i'll need my big winter boots or my parka.

feh.

❄ we're getting a snowstorm! ❄

snow is coming.

a lot of snow.

we're anticipating the largest single-day snowfall in a few years.

forecasts right now are calling for about 30cm (12").

the word "blizzard" is being tossed around by meteorologists.

the city is bracing for it as though it were an apocalypse.

and i. LOVE. it.

my big winter boots are ready. so is my parka. so are my mittens. and, of course, the camera.

okay, mother nature... LET IT SNOW!

briefly: really?

occasionally, i am reminded -- usually in an unexpected way -- how few people truly know me. who really know who i am.

the ones who do, get me. this doesn't happen overnight. it takes time. ultimately, though, they understand me and i know it.

the ones who think they do but really don't -- or, worse, the ones *i* thought did but really don't -- sometimes leave me shaking my head in disbelief.

or, every now and again, disappointment.