This has been one heck of a crazy week.
I'll start with Saturday. I went on a historical bus ride through a town having its 125th anniversary. I think you have to understand this area to get that people live in huge huge huge areas and call them towns.
Ha.
Anyway, it's worse than any of the other cities I've been because they just divide randomly, ignoring the historical significance of certain areas, and they created a third level of government to go between the municipalities and the province. And it doesn't seem to work because there's in fighting in the councils, trying to kick out the person who acts as chair and get yourself put in instead... Politics politics politics. And there are lots of it here.
So I was the youngest person on the bus by at least twenty years and everyone else had grown up in the area and had family ties, in many cases, dating back to the first Canadian settlers. Some were of yankee stock come to seek their fortunes, and I mentioned that I'd read about them in Roughing it in the Bush, Susanna Moodie's novel from that time. I didn't mention that she portrays the yanks as oportunistic slobs who have no manners and no real desire to work. But aren't Americans now like that - the American dream: get rich quick and stop working quicker. But of course that's only my impression of it.
Saturday was only my fourth drive through the area, including the drive in to move there. So I chatted, got acquainted (Someone on the bus went to university with my uncle. Just goes to prove this is a small area), learned some neat stuff and realized "Waterville" wasn't really where the tour was going. Only one stop was in what was historically "Waterville".
So we get to our final destination, and someone mentions to the people renovating the old school house where I'm from. They're proud U.E.L's (United Empire Loyalists). Crap. I'm not a Loyalist. My family is persecuted Irish. No Irish Catholics hired here, and all that jazz. But they didn't care. The cute old lady in the hoop skirt touched my arm and drew me close to pose for photos, calling me sweetheart and such. She didn't pose for photos with the other reporters. I think they'll like my story better too.
Eek. And then her brother touched me too.
Eeeeeeek.
And then I talked to "Milt" the old Loyalist who told me about his plans for a farm equipment museum.
Luckily the bus was leaving so I didn't have to stick around much after that.
So Sunday I went for a walk in across the border. Oh yeah, did I mention Canusa Ave? Half the street is in Canada, and guess where the other side is? Aren't these people just precious? Anyway, it's a very neat and typical New England town. Boring. They drive really slow. And get confused by the km-mph thing. I was behind a guy driving 55 km/h. On a 90 km/h highway. Ironically, 55 mph=90km/h.
God, that was frustrating. Especially since I had a gang on motorcycles on my ass and the Hell's Angels are in this area.
Eek.
There are lots of reasons to be afraid here.
I went for a bike ride on Sunday night, which was quite pleasant and refreshing, especially since I forced myself to bike the hills. I mailed a letter to David telling him to leave my family alone because he called Jan again and bugged them about the record release. I think he wants to stay there with them but that's not going to happen. Jan wants him gone and complained to me so I wrote a letter telling him to bugger off and leave my family alone. They think he's weird for hanging around after all this time and I told him I don't want to be his friend anymore.
Have I mentioned that being here has been really good for perspective on David? I love that I can say I don't want him in my life and feel absolute indifference. It's over. I don't even miss him in the slightest. I want a lover, and a boyfriend, but I want a fresh start and not someone who sleeps with someone who's slept with people who have slept with half the town - so essentially he's slept with half the town.
Yeah. Back to my story. There was a bear spotted on the bike path. That's reason to be wary of it. All I've seen so far, though, are squirrels and rabbits. Bunnies are so cute too. br>But things have been crazy. On Monday I accidentally ended up at the wrong meeting. I was supposed to take a simple picture. Ha! An hour and a half of irrelevant babble, much like a society meeting. Then, then, this weird guy who was a little overzealous in the meeting, probably hoping to get quoted in the paper (people think that's cool around here), follows me out of the building and starts asking where I'm from and calls me a city girl. Yeah, where I'm from is bigger than here but it's not exactly Toronto. He's ancient and a dirty town guy. Ew ew ew. Have I mentioned how many times I've been catcalled at here? It's ridiculous. I think it's because I'm fresh meat.
Oh, that can be explained by this: You know you're from this town if Father's Day is the most confusing day of the year.
Lovely, huh?
And then there's this one.
A man goes to the doctor and says, in a bad accent, "I'd like to get contraceptives for my daughter." The doctor says, "Oh really. Is your daughter sexually active?" And the man replies, "No, she just lies there like her mother."
I hear a lot of off colour jokes and puns. It was especially bad because of the history column about the nuns and their organ. Many jokes were passed about the "blessed organ" and the talented young girls taught to use it by the nuns.
I thought nuns weren't supposed to know stuff like that. Maybe that's why one wrote text so riddled with things that could be taken with a sexual note.
And then there was production. Man, I was here twelve hours Tuesday laying out pages, cropping and scanning photos and then making them fit for production, and writing last minute stuff. In the morning, I went chasing a car accident just down the road. It was exhilirating. I asked if I could take photos, got a description of how the accident happened straight from their mouths and got their names like a good little reporter.
Man, I felt sleazy. It was great.
The proofreader was a big distracting pain. The editor was a little distracted because his wife had the baby on Sunday and he had no sleep. I was trying to write two or three stories, at least twelve inches of copy in total (600 words... there abouts) and he was making us both crazy. And the boss sounded like Dad when he was like, "Oh no, you got him started again."
Yeah,the proofreader plays off of me, and blabs and blabs about spelling, and grammar and the use of the word tragic to describe the destruction of a building (it was historic... so kind of. Noboday died.. so no.) I have to ignore him. It's the only way. No one would get any work done otherwise.
I think that brings us to Wednesday, the off day. I went to the library. It was fun. Then I watched soaps until the boss called and I picked up the camera and some newspapers. Woo hoo. Then I ate dinner and read. Then I went to the legion and took photos of guys with medals and then I went back to the office to write email and such.
Woo.
Oh, there's more. Some anecdotes from my existence.
I have to do my own laundry, no problem, but I have to do it in a room connected to the little old lady's bathroom. And she doesn't even sleep in a bed. She sleeps on a couch, and it doesn't even fold out. She leads a weird weird life.
Plus, plus, she bought hotdogs at the little market a few doors down (which had wanted to expand but can't because of town politics involving another grocery store which would also like to expand. The local business has given up plans because as soon as he starts to expand the other store will and someone will go out of business. If the town were smart, they wouldn't grant the permit and then there would be competition) The hotdogs were individually wrapped. She boiled them in the plastic, which shinks in hot water. They were like skinny wiener dogs. Eeee...
She's senile, I swear.
She feeds us hot food on hot days - chicken pot pie (which I don't even like) when it's sweltering... no nice light salads with this lady. All I want is some nice vegetables and some cold chicken breast when it's hot. But I eat what I get, despite my near inability to choke some of it down, like the rotten-tasting watermelon. That, because she wasn't watching me like a hawk, I didn't eat.
Oh, because I didn't eat the tough stems on the lettuce one night she thinks I don't like lettuce period. Weird. This lady is crazy!
And my yellow room might be really giving me jaundice by leeching the colour onto my skin. Terrible decorating. The wallpaper. People here like wallpaper and fallen down barns. Quaint. Plus, they leave dead cars in the middle of fields because they're fighting with their girlfriends and want to punish them. I hate small towns. I need a boyfriend and I ain't gonna find one here.
Thursday, I waited around all day for calls, which is what the magic 8 ball in the office predicted anyway. Blah. I waited around for calls because people have a tendency to call back late, especially the people I call, so I ended up "working" ridiculous amounts of time - waiting for calls, resetting the monitors to show photos better, making ads for things like volunteer of the week, etc, etc, etc. The movies and such make working in a newspaper seem exciting. Let me tell you... well, you can see. My life doesn't seem all that exciting now, does it?
© lily keller 2001
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