The Arizona T.V. Survey Man

I'm at Sarah's apartment, having just finished my dinner, which sounds more like a breakfast because I had a big bowl of granola, soy milk, yogurt, banana and pear. The phone rang mid-meal, and after I answered, "Hello, this is Sarah's Apartment" a voice came on the line, a familiar voice of a survey person trying to sound all cheery and enticing all at once to get your attention before you hang up on them. For some reason I stayed on line. This cheery fellow, with a southern style drawl, was doing a survey on television habits of Canadians. I started off with, "I don't watch T.V." "What? Really?.... You don't turn the T.V. on?" "No, I don't own a television." "What? Really?" "Nope." "Well, do you ever watch television outside of your home, like at a bar?" "Nope." "Don't you ever watch the news??" [The questions are being asked in an ever increasing I-can't-believe-what-I'm-hearing style.] "Nope." "Golly!!...... How do you live without the news!?!?" "I listen to the national radio, I read the paper, and I use the internet." "Wow. I've never.... You're the first person I've come across that doesn't watch T.V.!" "Really, where are you calling from?" "Arizona." "Hmm... I'm not so sure I'll be useful for your television habits survey." "Well, I can ask you the first three questions, but that's it, really. And, I already know the first two answers." "Okay, hit me." "Uh, well, do you have a subscription to satellite television?" "Nope." "Do you have a local cable subscription?" "Nope." "Please select which option fits the total income of your household: Under $50,000 per yea--" "Yep, that's me." (I didn't tell him I don't have a job either for fear of permanently damaging this poor guy.) "Well, okay, that's it. Thanks for being so pleasant, and you have yourself a lovely evening. And, I swear, as Chris Cotter, that I have never met anyone who doesn't watch T.V." [Again, for emphasis, this was said in the most countrified and sweet southern accent.] "Thanks, Chris, you have yourself a lovely evening too."

Celeste The Seagull

My new favourite lunch spot is a secluded little rock in some of the last remaining trees along the shoreline in downtown Vancouver near the Plaza of Nations and GM Place. It's my oasis within the city, and today I was accompanied by a single seagull who I named Celeste. She is Celeste the Salivating Seagull. Yep, she was dripping saliva from the tip of her bill in anticipation of getting some of my curry for a snack. I told her to go away because she probably wouldn't enjoy curry poops. She wouldn't listen. She stayed put. Salivating. Sorry Celeste, I don't feed birds. The course is going well. Really well. I'm loving it, in fact. There's so much to say, but I can't put some of it into words, plus I'm ready pronto for a recouperating night's sleep, so I'll leave you with this instead: Sarah surprised me last night with tickets for Xavier Rudd! It was great. I danced my heart out.

Day Zero

I'm in Vancouver to begin a ten-day course on Yoga Therapy. I woke up at 6:30 this morning, took a shower, did a neti cleanse (cleans out the nostrils), got dressed, made breakfast, made a lunch, took my vitamin pill, stepped out the door into the cool, crisp air, took out the small piece of paper with details for my course and realized that today is not the first day of my course, tomorrow is the first day of my course. Awe, heck. I could have slept in and taken it easy this morning, BUT I'm not too bruised by all this because it's absolutely lovely outside, so I'm going to take full advantage of this extra day and maybe go to Stanley Park or something.

Victoria, BC

I'm sitting in the UVic Library, where Britt is upstairs reading articles and I've been writing for the past half hour all about how this library smells ("of dust, old paper, and kind of reminiscent of the smell of older people") and how my period cramps are like the ocean ("Waves of pain rolling in and out slower than ocean waves, but faster than the tide. The pain feels like my insides are being twisted like a dish rag rung out to remove all excess water. Then slowly the pain retreats, untwists, and relaxes to a release, a warmth, a lovely opening from a tight, dark place. At once my face relaxes, my body lets go, but the knowledge that the dish cloth will soon be twisted again resides in the back of my mind the instant I let go. And, as expected by pattern, the twisting gradually increases once again.") The cramps have eased, thankfully, and now I'm filling out online surveys for requests from Parks Canada and Dalhousie University. I figure it helps them, and by completing the survey I may get a $500 cheque in the mail if my name gets drawn (if I have absorbed anything from Brian I'm hoping I've gained some of his random luck by osmosis). It's gloriously sunny here in Victoria. There's no need to constantly wear a toque. And the buds are coming alive on the trees, assisted I'm sure by the sweet spring song of birds. It's lovely here. I've almost forgotten all the snow in Nelson, my down jacket, and the feeling of frozen boogers. I remember now why I loved living in Victoria. I spent five years here while I did my undergraduate degree at UVic. I was younger at the time, learning how to live without the constant support of my parents, but it was easy to be here. It feels safe to be here. The energy all around is upbeat, motivating, and warm. Part of my opinion on this, I'm sure, is biased because I'm staying with my good buddies Britt and Kip. They're like family, and I enjoy just being near them. The group of us are planning on having a bonfire on the beach tonight after our yoga class. This ought to be good. Then, I'll head back to Vancouver tomorrow in preparation for my Yoga Therapy course. I'll be near Commercial Drive for the next two weeks. You may see me chumming up to the Italians at the local coffee joint, or slurping up some gelato while standing on the street corner listening to some girl play the guitar. I'm looking forward to writing about my experiences while in Vancouver. It will be a different life for a short stint - life without Brian by my side, life within the heart of a BIG city, life with learning on my mind.

A tragic time...

Yesterday, Brian and I attended my grandma's funeral in Chilliwack, BC. The funeral was beautiful; full of loving, warm energy. There were people there I hadn't seen in many, many years - so long in fact, that some distant relatives thought I was my mom (apparently, I look just like she did when she was my age). Everyone told fun stories of Grandma, and we even got to watch some old video footage from my grandpa's collection of family memories: a big stroodle-making session in Grandma's kitchen, and then the feast that followed. It was really great to see the family together and to reconnect with loved ones. At the same time of our celebration of Grandma Montie's life, however, my uncle on the other side of my family had become very ill, and by the end of the day, passed away. He just returned from a vivacious four-week vacation with his wife, my aunt, and my parents. He also just turned 65 last week. It was within three days that he felt ill and deteriorated to such a state that his body gave in. Uncle Bert. I can't really believe it. I don't know what else to say. It doesn't feel real at this point. Such a sudden thing.