•December 25, 2008 •

I’m at the airport, happy as a clam, tucked in a corner with my computer and my vending machine snacks.  Yes, I did succumb to the trashy magazine, but I have refused to join the hundreds of others who have bought Olympic merchandise.  There will be no overpriced sweatshirts in my future.  And unlike some other people here, I still feel very strongly that the airport is no place for slippers or pants with elastic at the ankles. 

Nothing says Christmas cheer quite like angry people at the airport.  I feel as if I should enlighten some of my fellow travellers and tell them that the throbbing vein in their forehead and that pissed off tone in their voice is not going to get them home any faster.  I waited patiently on hold with Air Canada for 56 minutes today and when I finally got through to a person, he dealt with my problem in 37 seconds.  And he was nice about it.  Considering most people in his position would have jumped off something very high by now, I think that’s pretty great.  He got my most enthusiastic ‘Merry Christmas’ today.  Because damn it, he deserved it.

And with that, I wish all of you my second most enthusiastic ‘Merry Christmas’

a hop, skip and a snowball fight.

•December 15, 2008 •  

After recovering from my over-dramatic snow trauma of last week (but really, who is going to be rational after spontaneously bursting into tears because of precipitation?), I have bounced back and am in love with the snow again.  So in love, in fact, that I spent most of yesterday traipsing around outside, giddy like a mitten-clad school girl. 

the sky is falling.

•December 13, 2008 •

The snow made me cry today.  The first snow always has a profound effect on my soul – it fills me with a happiness and calm that I can’t even begin to describe.  But this snow was different.  As soon as I saw the giant flakes, I burst into tears.  I miss home.  I didn’t realize that I missed it until I stared out my window and saw the snow falling on the gray and dirty concrete.  It bothered me that instead of being able to watch the snow while it fell silently on the ground, all I could hear was the deafening sound of water pouring into the gutters.  The snow never stays – the rain destroys it; turns the beautiful white into rivers of grey rushing down the street.   When it snows, you shouldn’t need an umbrella to protect yourself. 

This isn’t my first winter here, and it won’t be my last.  I love the life I have created and I’m happy.  What bothers me, is that it has been a year since I’ve been home, a year since I’ve seen my mom.   I saw my dad briefly while he had a layover at the airport.  Between the rows of tables in the food court, I shared my father with a group of his colleagues – people I’ve only ever heard about and occasionally talked to on the phone while acting as secretary.  I got a hug from someone who loves me unconditionally and was finally able to put faces to names of people I have known for years, but have never actually known.  It wasn’t the same as being surrounded by my family, but it was nice.

I’m looking forward to going home for Christmas.  I want to see my family and my friends.  I want to sit in front of the fireplace and listen to music and I want to eat ridiculous amounts of food and exchange witty banter and intelligent conversation with the people I love.  And then I want all those people to come visit me here so that I can introduce them to my new home.  Show them that, yes, I’m doing well and even though sometimes the snow makes me cry, I like it here.

you’re so vain.

•December 2, 2008 •

For the first time ever, I saw a man, in broad daylight, wearing an ascot.  I actually did a double take.  I thought my eyes had deceived me.  But no, there it was.  With his slightly too slicked back hair, perfectly tanned skinned and beautifully tailored suit, it lay neatly knotted around his neck.  His ego wore it well.  You can always tell the kind of man who probably thinks this song is about him.