So here I am all excited because I`m going to donate blood. The only other person in the group who isn`t scared to is Tom, and he`s off. So I take my coat and head out in the general direction of the sign I saw. Rosie is sitting on the steps in a bad mood, smoking (luckily the bad mood isn`t at me). She decides to come take a picture. She`s a regular little photographer. And we want to win the photo contest.
So we eventually take off. And we walk. And we walk. And we walk. Ends up that hotel Foréster is a long long ways away. After about half an hour Rosie stops to take a picture. This is when she realizes she left her camera battery back home. We`re a little upset about this. I`m starting the laugh anyway tatic.
Finally, numb legs and frozen ears later, we reach the clinic. Fortunently, we`re still in time. I`ve never given blood before. And Rosie is brave and decides to do it as well. We fill out the forms, we read the pamphlets, we check the little boxes, ect. Than we go wait.
I am ushered into the little booth where I`ll sign. The nurse looks over my form. Her pointy jaw and stiff blond head tilt towards me. ''You have been out of Canada or the U.S. in the last three years?''
''Yes, I was in Mexico early this year.''
Finally with my usually basicisized English and her formal accented attempts I find out I can`t give. `Cause you know, I wasn`t in a tourist area and might have dormant malaria in my blood. I was sullen. But should`nt`ve been. It wasn`t exactly her fault.
So I went out and sat by Rosie, who was still overly nervous. When she found out I couldn`t give (after we`d gone for me) she swore at me, fingered me, in the most friendly of ways, and then held my hand well the needle went in. She had to admit that it wasn`t that big a deal.
So, that`s my story. The last tragic part was that Rosie wasn`t allowed to smoke for an hour afterwards. I just laughed. The whole thing seemed humerous. She told me it wasn`t funny, though. But we got a ride home. So there`s my story.
I have yet to do the noble act of giving blood.

Thanks to living in a house with ten people, I have a cold. It`s kinda like a domino effect. My latest pastime has been blowing my nose. Especially at night when I usually like to sleep.
The day is starting. I must go eat some of my stash of Christmas goodies and get ready for work.

Time to update, I think. Problem is, there`s too much to update. Really though. What do you want to hear about? my jobs? My team? The hundreds of new things I do every week, Quebec, anything else?
It`s so hard to believe I`ve only been here a week and a half. they keep you busy enough that it feels like it takes a lot of time. Starting tomorrow things should pretty much be down to `routine` though (forgive the quotation marks. I don`t like this French keyboard). Whatever routine means. I guess it means I`ll be going to work regularily five days a week. It`ll mean housemanagers will be doing the cooking, cleaning, and other assorted chores. It means we`ll have meetings on Sundays, and commitee stuff at least weekly. Plus who only knows what.
Today we have a bread workshop. I`ve made bread before. But that doesn`t mean I`m confident in my abilities. Cor, you should be here. Show them all up. We`ve also had a blitz clean today. This morning was a block of free time. It`s so we can all sleep in after our partying. We get all of four a week. And even that`s not guarenteed.
I`m wearing my Katimavik shirt over a thermal longsleeve right now. It`s so cool. Like, hey, I`m a part of something.