I'm sitting around in those fifteen minutes before work. You know how it is, watching the minutes tick by, waiting to see if you can hit the end of the chapter. Knowing one more shift and you're done for a couple days. And it's not even that work's that bad. It's just that you really like you're free time. Although a lot more so when you have less of it. Which is sort of the case lately. Although not all that bad.
So, you're housesitting. So you sit down at the laptop (I love laptops. I really kinda want a laptop) and just see what you can get out in those fifteen minutes. Because there's really nothing on t.v. And you don't feel like doing anything better with you're free time.
I'm really glad I don't have animals. Too much responsibility. Like, you can't spontaneously spend the the night. Because there's dogs to be fed. And I'm really not into indoor animals. At all. Unless they're fish and they stay in the tank. In which case they just look kind of cool.
And I'm sore. Which is my good excuse not to be moving around. Because, you know. I can't move around when I can't even touch my toes. Thanks to God for hard-core judo sessions. And I'm serious. Otherwise I probably wouldn't be motivated to get off the couch.
So tomorrow I'm going to the dojo to watch a kendo demonstration with some lady from Japan. Swords are cool. I don't think they're all that practical in today's world. But they're still really cool.
And then I've got biblestudy, which I need to find out if I need to plan something for.
Then there's my doctor appointment. Which is really just a physical. Which better be kept pretty basic. Hello, I'm healthy (and in the basement, again) and a virgin (no stds here) and you delivered me (so you kind of know my medical history). Now just check off the dang boxes.
And then I really hope my criminal record check gets finished in time. Because I don't want to pay for a stupid physical for nothing. But I'd decided to follow through in this whole applying to Katimavik thing. And let God deal with the rest. But do I really want to quit my job on the farm? Man, who thought I would get attatched to it. Com'on. It's a good life. And I kinda got it made. And I'm good at it.
Time is ticking. Do I really want to attack this?
And then my sister is leaving. My kid sister. My current confidant, if anyone deserves the title. She know's me better then anyone. And she's fun. If you can just ignore her when she's in a bad mood. And if you understand her. Which I do both. So I guess I'm missing her already. Which sucks. I mean, it's not like I live with them or anything. I just like knowing that she's there.
But the whole point is that she's my kid sister. She's not supposed to be moving on. Even if it's just for a five week practicum. What's next? I'm the only one that's supposed to move on. She's supposed to be there For when I need someone to dance with or to motivate me to eat more vegetables.
Shoot. There goes my alarm. Which means I have five more minutes, then work. And then, begin my weekend, baby!
Peace ya'll. And sorry about the wacked out blog post.

I just found out yc is sold out for this year. That really sucks. Because I really wanted to do the concert thing. And I hear yc is the best. And I've only got a precious four months of teenage years to go. And Audio Adrenaline is going to be there. And we were just going to fill up my car and go. And I've never been to Edmonton. And it was going to be fun.
Now I'll probably end up running off to an eminem or slipknot concert, or something, to make up for it.
Kidding.

How can it be snowing? How can I be sitting here in a friends warm sweater? How can I be missing poker to go out for supper? How can I be sitting using free internet? How can I be working in my area of expertise? How can my sister be in the next room? How did I have cream cheese and nutella on toast for lunch?
Ah, it's good to be home.

Joey has, by example, been teaching Mexican kids how to jersey each other. The first time they laughed their heads of. And Joe walked off grinning and saying , "I play hockey." I was our turn to get a kick out of the whole thing when the first victim walked up to him, pointed at another kid, and said, "Hey, you play hockey with him!"
There are also a few more kids who just simply know what hockey is. And that Alaska isn´t a part of Canada. And that NY caps are certainly not cool.
The take over of the Canucks.

What a guy, eh? Racing down Mexican alleys yelling, "Con permisso! Con permisso!".
-Dad


Kris,if the bus catches fire run to the neighbors and call 911. Here, I´ll write it down for you.
-Joe


Ha! I just said, "you can´t". At least, I think I said, "you can´t." Kris, did I just say, "you can´t"?
-Ty


Man! We´re like a bunch of stinkin gringos.
-Mom

Everything is starting to sound, look, and taste like Mexico. And soon enough I'll be there. And it's exciting. But, as usual, a touch intimidating. I'm not used to it anymore. I'll feel awkward trying to speak Spanish. And like I stand out in the Ley (grocery store). And like it would've been easier to stay home. But I'll ride bikes with Mexican kids. And dance to mariachi music. And Order Empenadas with ease. Because it's all tantilizingly familiar in a long-gone sort of a way.
And maybe I'll be back out of place when I get back to Canada. But nope. It's only two months. And I'll keep in touch. Maybe this time I can have the best of both. Well, except the parties I'm not there for.

It's another all-nighter. But this one is different. 'Cause Cor actually does it too and then comes to work the next morning. It's a good shift. As far as that goes. And I won't be back for a bit.
It's a long morning nap. Nothing new about that. Then many errends around town. Most of them twice. Then some reading in a lame attempt to finish my library book. No such luck.
It's getting a call. "We're leaving tonight".
"Right," I reply, "that's just great".
So I pack in half an hour, then go up to a friends for supper. Pancakes with sourcream and syrup. And I feel weird the whole time.
I wonder what I forgot.
It's a first poker night. I have no idea what I'm doing, play conservative, and lose. But it's fun anyway, even if I'm in a weird frame of mind and hardly even laugh at the jokes. After months of saying I want to learn, it'd better be.
My stuff's in my car. And it's straight to my parent's. Because we're off. And my sister stands in the driveway watching us go. This is weird.
It's a big envelope. Full of letters from friends. Plus a parcel from my sis. All dated. And I can't even start opening them 'till the twelvth. It is cruel. I am loved.
It's driving too late. And falling asleep to the rocking of the bus. It's back to Mexico baby!
I want the best of both.

'Tis the season to be jolly.
Bah humbug. That's what I say.
Since when do I have to grow-up?
Somebody tell me that.

And Cor and Kris spent the Night at Cor's brother's. The next day they went to Canadian tire and then accumulated over 1/2 an hour walking to get out of town (Cor naively thought it would take ten minutes). At that point they got a ride within 15 minutes with a nice lady named Jodie from Alberta who was breaking her rules ("cool. Us too"). She let them listen to "Alice's restaurant" and she gave them a ride all the way home.
The end.

Cor and Kris, long time partners in crime, decide we want to go Christmas shopping. Unfortunently the nearest Wal*mart is over an hour away. What to do?
They are not girls to sit around when faced with a problem. They put their heads to the matter. They think. And think. And then Cor strikes upon a solution.
"We could drive your car!"
"No," says Kris decisively, "gas costs too much money."
"Oh," says Cor. And they settle down to think some more.
Finally they have a good idea. They remember a form of transportation knowing to most of the English speaking world as hitch hiking.
On Kris' next days off (cause she works) they get up early (Kris is in a surly mood due to talking on the phone after midnight the night before). They step into their baggy jeans, button up their plaid shirts, lace up their hiking boots, and belt on their knives. It's light by time they're walking out of town. It takes a while to get used to thumbing passing vehicles.
Kris is obnoxious. She thinks she knows about hitch hiking since she's ridden with lots of them, and her Dad did it across Canada. She keeps trying to tell Cor to stick her thumb up better.
Their first ride comes along soon. They know this woman. She is a homeschooled mom, firendly, all around safe. All good. They climb in and ride a kilometer or so out of town.
Fifteen minutes along comes another ride. Pretty cool ride. Except Kris has to ride in the back with a weiner dog named Sasha. The diver is Czech, friendly, interesting. He's going about halfway to their destination.
"Cool," think Cor and Kris, "This is pretty easy."
They start walking again. Kris wishes she wore long johns. She wishes her boots didn't hurt her little toe. Cor gloats. She is glad she wore pj pants and that her boots don't hurt.
They walk for a very long time. Or so they think. They eat granola bars and Cor blows her nose many times. They thumb a lot of vehicles. Not very many pick them up.
Kris thumbs one vehicle. She sees a man with long curly hair and a baseball cap driving an old pick-up. Said truck pulls over.
Kris and Cor find themselves in the back seat of a beat-up pick-up with two grungy longhaired redneck types smoking a joint and using coarse languages while talking about course subjects in the front.
It is interesting. But they get to their destination with only minor harm to their lungs, braincells, and innocence.
Thus passes the first time Cor and Kris went hitch hiking.
They spend a lot of money. But really, to be honest, the shopping was kind of an excuse to chalk up another experiance.
At time of writing they were halfway along in their little adventure.