The North Wind Blows
Or so I'm told. It's been a while since I've actually felt it myself. I'm really not rubbing that in - I'm actually looking forward to donning my favourite long black winter coat and traversing frozen ground that squeaks when I walk. But, I also have to admit that the longer we live here, the more I appreciate the temperate climate. I love that I can drive my scooter year-round. To use Phillip's favourite axiom "we can always visit the cold."

Of course, we could have used quite a bit less heat here last month; as most of you are aware, San Diego county and surrounding areas was ablaze with several wildfires for about a week after October 21st . We were grateful for the concern you showed us, but Phillip and I were never in any serious danger, despite the unprecedented extent of the fires and the resulting evacuation of about 500,000 people! The photo above is taken from the corner by our house, looking South, where the fires may have been closest. Compare the sky to the one looking North.

Qualcomm Stadium and even some offices became makeshift evacuation and volunteer centres. Phillip and I wanted to help, but there was some mixed messages going out from the volunteer organizers - we were told that help was needed, but then when we tried to organize dropping off some supplies (cat & dog food, children's books and toys, for example), we learned that there were too many people crowding the drop-off areas and that the best thing we could do was stay off the roads and out of the way. Phillip's office sent out automated pages (emergency services urged people to restrict their cell phone usage) to the effect of "don't come into work until we tell you it's okay". So, we stayed home and kept an ear out for news and watched the skies. There are updates of the aftermath here.

Halloween came and went with friends who shared their own stories and then before we could blink, November was upon us. I went through more dental hell (I know, you're probably wondering if I still have my own teeth!) and we had our "biometrics" appointment with our local government office. What that means is we, as aliens to this great nation, needed to be fingerprinted and put into a federal database as part of our whole immigration process. It was an interesting and thoroughly modern experience - it's all digitized now. No more ink stains. That done, I eagerly awaited the arrival of my "employment authorization card", which in turn, would allow me to apply for a social security number. I received it about a week ago and this week worked up the fortitude to wait in another government office for over an hour to hand in my forms and identification in person. I should receive my number in another week or two and by the time we get back here from our trip, I can actually apply for a job - like serving coffee.

Of course theatre is still my priority, though I just had an unhappy experience in that realm. As I'd mentioned before, I performed a show called "The Collection" at Sixth @ Penn theatre for the Resilience of the Human Spirit Festival this summer and most recently, I auditioned at the same place for a brilliant show called "Anton in Show Business". I didn't get the part I wanted ("Casey"), but I was asked to be Assistant Director and understudy the role, so I accepted.
It started off well; I like the director (who happens to also be the theatre owner) and I think we worked well together, but I quickly learned that the show was plagued by problems. The original director left, and then "Casey" followed. The audition I had attended was in fact a re-cast of the role. A woman by the name of Gail was cast instead and we had a first rehearsal with an almost-full cast. The second rehearsal resulted in a phone call from Gail saying she was leaving for a huge real estate commission (acting was something she "used to do" before she started making money in her new career). As understudy, it meant I had to step in and pick up the reins. I was happy to do so, even though it meant our director needed to find a new assistant. After all, I wanted to act.

Right away there were problems that made me uncomfortable. The director told me "be better than you are" and "be like Meryl Streep in that movie..."! Umm... okay. Sure, let me pull an Oscar-calibre performance out of my ass in my first rehearsal. No problem. I voiced my concern to Phillip that perhaps the director was expecting me to fail, since I wasn't his original choice. I spoke with a cast mate that I knew and respect (she's older, wiser and a lot more experienced, not to mention talented). She gave me a great heads-up about the fact that the director was in the hot-seat with a show that was already behind schedule and I was expected to pick up the slack as "Casey". It helped me look at the bigger picture and stop worrying about myself.

The problem was, the director didn't share my epiphany. By the fourth blocking rehearsal, and the day before Thanksgiving, he fired me. I told him he was being hasty, explained that I recognized the difficulty he and I were having (we had different interpretations of the character), but that I was willing to do it his way. His response? "You can't be Casey." I told him he was wrong, that I could indeed pull off the role, but he insisted I wasn't right for the part. He'd obviously made up his mind (I think BEFORE I even started rehearsals...) but what was I to do? I couldn't change his opinion of me without proving myself, and he wasn't willing to let me try. He did have the nerve to ask me to return as Assistant, but I told him it was a demotion after a lead role. I'm an "all or nothing" kind of person. Either I'm the best damn Stage Manager I can be, or the best damn "Casey", but I can't be sorta one or the other. I had to walk away. He asked me to reconsider, but it's too humiliating to return to former cast mates in the guise of a stage manager (which is what he really wants, not an assistant director).

The upside is that I burned no bridges and despite his ways (or perhaps mine), we can still work together in the future. Sixth @ Penn is an important small theatre in San Diego, and I'd like to direct my own show there for the next Human Spirit Festival. I've been told that is still a distinct possibility. We'll see. Now that I'll be able to legally work here, I can start auditioning to the professional houses too. The stakes have gone up, but I think I'm game.

Thanksgiving was the next big social event, which was a great way to take my mind off my unhappy failure. We joined friends for their annual pot luck, contributing my now-favourite homemade cranberry sauce and a scalloped cauliflower dish that was less popular. Everyone really does such a great job on the food; there was a turducken again this year, as well as a regular turkey and lots of potato choices. Green beans, broccoli, and other greens rounded out the meal nicely, and we ended with spectacular desserts of the chocolate, pumpkin and pecan variety. Phillip and I were very good and ate moderately, though of course many celebrated in true gluttonous fashion and stuffed themselves silly. We didn't bring home leftovers.

Even bigger on the American calendar is Black Friday. I keep forgetting about this strange phenomenon, perhaps because it is so disturbing, but I'm forcibly reminded every year that consumerism is not just a hobby here, it's a blood sport! Happily, I read no reports of injuries or arrests this year, although according to friends, some people have died in frenzied mall mobs. Remember Furbies?

I really don't understand it. According to articles I've read, Black Friday (and the relatively new "Cyber Monday") are not truly accurate barometers of a store's year-end sales. That seems to be the reserve of those few days directly leading up to Christmas. According to Time online, the whole concept of retail sales tallies going into "the black" as a result of one day's frenzied shopping is a myth. Even with online sales beefing up the bottom line, retailers don't necessarily make it big because of Black Friday. So I have to ask, why? I mean, why do people line up the night before, why do malls open at 6am, slash their prices and suffer the hordes of cranky, insane shoppers if all that madness doesn't really do what it's supposed to do? I really don't know. And I have no desire to be a part of it.

What I am looking forward to is our visit to Canada in December! We'll be arriving in Ottawa on the fourteenth, and driving directly to Elgin to stay for several days before driving in the opposite direction to spend time with my side of the family. Phillip and I are to become godparents at my niece's baptism on the 22nd , which will be a new experience for both of us. We'll return to Ottawa on the 23rd and spend time with friends and family there before wooshing away, back down south again. We'll be in Canada for a total of two weeks, but already if feels too short. I hope we'll have a chance to see everyone, even for a bit, especially since this is Phillip's second-only visit back since we moved here. Until then....

Travels, ho!

We have returned, flush with newly-broadened horizons and tales of our exploits to share. As mentioned in the previous update, our canceled plans for Italy resulted in an impromptu itinerary for San Francisco and Oregon. Given the "substitution" nature of this trip, we couldn't have hoped for a better outcome. We had a great time.

We arrived at our hotel in Japantown on September 29th after a $40 cab ride ride from the airport. I commented on the heavy traffic and was told that it "wasn't that bad"; it looked like rush-hour to me and our progress slowed to a crawl for a good part of the ride. The driver was excited when we told him that it was our first visit to his town and happily started playing tour-guide, pointing out landmarks and commenting on the city in general. It was a fitting introduction to SF, I thought.

We were hungry by the time we settled into our room, and after asking for recommendations from the staff, we made our way to a sushi restaurant just down the street from our hotel. It was a busy, family-run place with good food and friendly service. We ended up visiting it twice during our stay, despite the wide variety of restaurants that San Francisco has to offer. I especially enjoyed the number of choclatiers in the city! These people have their priorities right.

We attacked the hilly streets of the city with a gusto, walking our feet off for miles and hitting the usual tourist attractions first. Pier 39, among the most famous, was enjoyable even though it was very crowded. I couldn't resist a peek at the sea lions and really enjoyed the San Francisco Harbour Aquarium. It was small, but the underwater tunnel made up for it. Our tickets included a ship-board bay tour, but we decided to delay that for later in our visit and continued walking all along the piers. Our visit to the Automaton Museum was really fun, like taking a walk back in time.

Another enjoyable diversion in SF is the shops; Pacific Heights and Filmore street were my favourite. I found a lovely new necklace and unique ring and Phillip finally bought a leather jacket that he liked. We could not do any wild shopping, given the limited bag space for the flight back, but it was fun to browse. The consignment stores are even better than the ones here or in Florida's wealthy Watercolor neighborhood. But that's not surprising, considering the quality of living in SF; it's more expensive to live there than here!

As for culture, we took in an exhibit at the Metreon, downtown, called "Da Vinci; An Exhibition of Genius". They focused on his notebooks (replicas were on display) and a wonderful exhibit of machines that he had conceptualized and sketched. The machines were all wood, metal, and cloth - materials that would have been available to him at the time, and were painstakingly built by a team of architects, artists and others who have studied Da Vinci's work for decades. Most of the machines were "hands off", as expected, but some were able to be manipulated so that one could watch the result of a pulley, for example, or a water screw (a concept still used in pumps today). He was very interested in the measurement of time and there were several very intricate working clocks, one of which was my favourite piece in the exhibit. There was also an octagonal chamber full of mirrors with a peep hole that he designed to study a subject he wished to draw, as well as several improbable, but nonetheless conceivably workable machine guns. One of the questions raised by the exhibit was "How would the course of the history of warfare have changed if Da Vinci's machines and tanks been used in early wars?" Fascinating and well-designed exhibit. If it ever arrives in Ottawa, I highly recommend it.

We also took in a comedy show at a downtown comedy college, which turned out to be the semi-finals for a competition among the students. Most of the comics were very good and it was almost as amusing to see how excited they were that we had shown up as "real guests" rather than as people who supporting their friends on-stage. Phillip said it was like going to see a show at Ottawa University when the audience was full of actors watching their classmates perform. There was a vote at the end of the competition to choose three favourites, and while the two men we liked were picked, Phillip and I were both disappointed that the woman chosen was one of our least favourites. We guessed that she had the most friends in the audience.

By the fourth day in San Francisco, both Phillip and I were footsore (despite the wonderful, deep soaking tub in our room), so we were slowing down, but there was still so much to see! We had done the bay tour, visited Nob Hill, the piers, and the downtown district, and we debated about going to the de Young Museum versus a long walk in Golden Gate Park. Deciding we didn't have the strength for the "museum shuffle" (if you've had the aching feet after visiting a museum, you know what I mean), we decided to walk as far as we could through the park. The sculpture outside the museum and the Japanese Garden were particular hi-lights, despite the fact that, in my usual "head in the clouds" method, I took an ungraceful tumble which gave me some colourful bruises. The botanical gardens were wonderful (I couldn't resist the flora / fauna pictures), though the squirrels were scarily bold. One of them actually nudged Phillip's foot with his nose, as if to say "Why aren't you feeding me?"

We flew to Portland on October 4th and rented a car for the drive to our friend, Amanda's, neighborhood. It's called "Nob Hill" as well, and while very pretty and one of the most expensive parts of the city in which to live, it doesn't quite seem a fitting name. Not after visiting San Francisco. Our hotel in Portland was decidedly "funky", with green, purple and orange dominate colours and cheerful, modern surroundings. Our room was really like a bachelor apartment, including a full kitchen, which supports the "green mentality" of the business. We could only stay one night, since the weekend was booked for a wedding, but we took the opportunity to visit with Amanda and her new beau, ate wonderful Indian cuisine and sampled some of Oregon's microbrews at a local pub. It felt like we were back in Ottawa!

We left the next morning for the drive to Columbia River Gorge Hotel, and the route was scenic, to say the least. We stopped every few miles, it seemed, to appreciate some natural splendour, a waterfall, or a state park. A very friendly Oregonian in the park (transplanted from Hawaii) gave us all kinds of great advice for what to see and where. Despite the cool weather and overcast conditions, the drive was spectacular and the sights unbeatable.

The hotel is as historic as the scenic drive - the whole thing was planned and built around 1912, and we found the surroundings decidedly different from Portland. When we checked in, we were informed that the "champagne social" was in the drawing room (yes, it had a fireplace and chandelier and cushy chairs). We enjoyed free champagne while we chatted about what to do for this portion of the trip, and when we returned to our room (furnished with antique-style bed and furniture), we found truffles and glass bottled water on our nightstand, with turn-down service complete with music and robes laid out for us. Very posh. Too bad the building still has all the failings of older architecture; we heard people in nearby rooms quite clearly and were woken frequently during the night by the sound of the waterfall behind the hotel, as well as the train which passed at regular intervals. We were not unhappy, however; because we ate in Hood River at the 6th Street Bistro that night and I had one of the best meals of my life. Breakfast at the hotel was also very good - the dining room had beautiful views and we enjoyed a walk around the grounds before we left.

As you can see from the photos, Oregon is absolutely beautiful. The drive to Parkdale was simple and we arrived earlier than expected, so the hostess of the Old Parkdale Inn gave us plenty to see and do while she cleaned the rooms and after dropping off our luggage, we set out with plans in hand. Our timing couldn't have been better if we'd planned it beforehand! The Fruit Loop, so called because it is a round-trip of the majority of orchards in the area, was an excellent diversion because it is harvest season. One can just pull into the driveway at any of these farmhouses, most of which have attached stores for their wares, and sample the apples, pears, jams, jellies, cookies, honey and more. I had an excellent apple turnover at Apple Valley Orchard (naturally). Their shop is reminiscent of an old "general goods" store, and we bought a few fruit / pepper jellies and some dark honey to take home.

As if that wasn't enough, it is also "Crush" season for the local wineries. I had raved about my Sauvignon Blanc to our waitress at the bistro, so she explained in amazing detail, the winery that made it and how to find it. That information, added to the map given to us at Old Parkdale Inn, was enough to convince us that we couldn't leave Oregon without a quick drive through wine country (which included a bit of Washington) to sample the local flavours. After three.. or was it four (?) stops, Phillip had to be a good driver and cut himself off - we learned that these wineries snub the "taste and spit" mentality, so we were a bit buzzed by the time we got back to Hood River. And guess what was going on there? A Hops Festival! Yep, a celebration of micro-breweries! We decided to skip a sit-down restaurant supper and bought tickets to the festival instead, which included souvenir mugs and an opportunity for several samples. I only rejected one of them; it got dumped, but I gave Hood River Brewery two thumbs up for some truly unique pale ale. We ate, and drank our samples slowly, but Phillip again stopped before he really wanted to because I was already too happy to drive.

The band oddly stopped playing at nine o'clock, which took some of the life out of the party, so we decided to head back. We had a pleasant surprise on the way; a huge elk and her calf crossed the road in front of us. We crawled under the duvet back at the Inn wise with new knowledge: Oregonians love three things above all others: good wine, good food and good beer! Three cheers!

Breakfast at the Inn was at a big communal table and very pleasant. The harvest season is very busy for the area, but apparently it gets very quiet in the winter, when its mostly weekend skiers. Our hostess recommended that we take a different route back to Portland so that we could drive around Mt. Hood and stop off for a visit at Timberline Lodge, a National Historic Landmark, built in 1937. It is a classic example of whole log and stone construction and quite beautiful... once we actually found it.

The fog conditions were such that, after driving up the mountain along snow-flanked roads and arriving at the ski lodge parking lot, we were a little disappointed. After the hype about the lodge, we expected something more traditional and dignified than the concrete and wood building that had all the character of an elementary school. It smelled and felt just like my old primary, with lockers and everything. We walked through it, underwhelmed, then came out on the opposite side expecting to find little else. Only about a hundred meters away, invisible through the white mists, was the actual Timberline Lodge! Good thing we decided to explore a little! As it turns out, the newer building was created to reduce wear and tear on the original lodge, and is used mostly by day-trippers who come to ski. The Lodge is for people who are staying for a visit and includes nice historic displays that tell about early explorers on Mt. Hood; two of the original five were women!

The rest of the drive, through small community towns, one of which was aptly named "Boring", was uneventful and we were happy to return to our funky hotel in Portland. Amanda, who had run a marathon the day before, did not come out to see us our first day back, so we explored on our own and, in the spirit of wishful thinking, even looked at a few condos during Sunday open houses. Keeping with tradition, something came up back home and I got a call from our neighbor telling us that our fire alarm kept going off in our apartment. I gave her the number for my friend, Kristina, who was looking after Scuttle and then received a panicky call from Kristina saying she didn't know what to do. There was no fire, but the stupid alarms were going off because the batteries had died! In the end, she called the fire department who came in and changed them. This sounds drastic, but we have fifteen foot ceilings and it was better than having Kristina climb a too-short ladder and hurt herself. We keep expecting a bill in the mail from the fire department!

By Monday, we were all vacationed out. We went downtown for a while, visited a bookstore (an amazing, four-story independent with new and used books side by side!), but were happy to relax and do little more than read and drink lattes at a local café. Amanda mustered her strength to take us out for a short tour of the city that night and had dinner with us before we said goodbye. I bought some Oregon wines to supplement the drinking chocolate and coffee card we had purchased for our friends who were pet-sitting for us, though Kristina has since told us that she is officially off the list as a cat-sitter. She's had too many mishaps to comfortably do it any more, poor woman. I don't blame her.

It took me a few days to sort through, clean up and label our vacation photos. They're uploaded now and hopefully will give you the complete picture (pardon the pun) of our adventures. The second part of our aborted trip to Italy is the tickets which were transferred to a Canadian flight. We've had progress reports (of a sort) from the lawyers, saying that the visa papers are to be expected soon. So far so good. We hope to receive them soon so as to confirm that we will definitely be "home for Christmas". You'll hear from us as soon as we get any news - especially if we're expecting to stay with you!

This was a long one, but I wanted to cover all of our trip in one go. We hope you are all happy and healthy and we look forward to seeing you soon!

The Way the Wind Blows,
Addendum

Isn't it amazing how quickly things can change? Proof that Fate is a fickle mistress. Our fate seems to be that we will never see Italy. It feels that way, at least. For the second time, our plans to visit that beautiful and fascinating destination have been squelched. This time, Fate was cloaked in the red tape of bureaucracy.

As we may have mentioned, we have progressed to the "last step" in the green card process. We're not even really sure what that means, because these things cannot be taken at face value. However, what it means for now is that during this tenuous time, we should not leave the country. Apparently, being away from the U.S.A. at this point in the paperwork implies that we are actually not interested in gaining a green card after all and thus, our paperwork would be tossed out and we would have to start the whole process over again.

Yes. Despite three plus years of waiting and jumping through hoops and obeying all the rules, we are now so close to our goal that we can almost see it. But heaven forbid that we take our eyes off the ball for even a moment, or else all is lost! It's enough to flesh out a Greek tragedy, I think. Imagine it! The heroes travel over land and sea to a foreign land, searching for the golden apple and just when it's in sight, some fatal flaw comes into play (our love of travel, I suppose) and the fat-bellied villain, laughing victoriously, snatches the prize at the last moment, leaving the heroes bereft and rending their togas and rubbing ashes in their hair...

Okay, the theatre major took over for a bit there, but you get the idea. I was very upset to hear the news, especially since this was our second attempt at planning an Italy trip and extra especially because we'd already spent $2000 on air fare. Oh woe! I very nearly cried, even though I was in public when Phillip called me with the news. Thank goodness for chocolate.

But the story is thankfully not yet over. Phillip and I began to consider alternatives, since several friends told us of their own predicaments with air fare that had positive outcomes. Initially, we thought that a domestic flight would be a fair trade for our tickets, but since our main interest finally came down to San Fransisco, we realized that we would be losing too much for an exchange. (No refunds!) So we took a gamble. The payoff is worth it - if it works. Instead of going to Italy this fall, we plan to both return to Canada for christmas holidays.

After mulling over dates and details, we contacted United Airlines and explained our situation.

"No problem!"

"Well that's great news."

"The transfer fee will be $399.00."

"Not so good."

"The balance owing is forty cents, but we'll waive that."

"Gee thanks."

So there you have it. The money was already spent and we weren't getting it back, so we went ahead and transferred the cost towards tickets to fly to Ottawa instead. It worked out, but there is still a small risk that the paperwork (which is supposed to be finished in October) will be delayed and we will still be grounded by the time December rolls around. We'll just have to keep our hopes up.

As for flights to San Fran? Well, they're set and rather than the full three weeks originally planned for our fall vacation, we'll take just two (saving the rest for Canada). We'll relax and enjoy the city that everyone says is wonderful and should not be missed, then zip up to Portland, Oregon, where our friend, Amanda now lives and visit with her for a few days before returning to San Diego.

There's more planning to do for the holidays, but we're both rather excited to be seeing family again. Phillip is looking forward to meeting his new nieces and nephews and we will also be taking part in the ritual of Brianna's baptism, where we will be standing in as god-parents. Pretty cool.

In the meantime, Phillip and are are enjoying the cooler weather, taking yoga classes in the park on Saturdays and generally recovering from the abrupt change in our end-of-year plans. I've always thought of myself as a pretty flexible person, but this sudden jolt to our expectations made me realize that once I have my heart set on something, it takes the wind out of me to be denied. Phillip seems to be taking things more in stride, but then, he's more laid back than I am and I think he had a tiny bit of trepidation about visiting a country where, once again, he would not speak a word of the language.

My favourite month is fast approaching and before we know it, we'll be among long-time friends and family again. We're looking forward to seeing you all and hope to find you in good health and high spirits.

Until then...

Come and Gone...

As per usual, I have let our updates lag horribly, so now I have to try and play "catch-up" while remaining succinct enough not to bore you all to tears. So, forgive me while I roll up my sleeves and wrack my brain for some semblance of an orderly contribution...

Spring came and went in a lovely breath of jasmine-scented air and warm sunshine. We were further spoiled by our visit to Florida, where it was quite a bit hotter, but really quite enjoyable. After all, how can one not enjoy bright, sunny days spent playing on the brilliant, white sands or lounging in the dappled shade with lots of snacks and beer within easy reach? It was a little piece of heaven and, as always, we were very grateful to Paul and Joan for being such gracious hosts. Here are some photos of our final adventure at Grayton Beach. Farewell, Florida, and thanks for all the fish!

And along comes... babies? Yep, two new members of the clan, Max Stephen and Brianna Kathleen joined the world on April 11th and May 20th, respectively. Moms and babies are all happy and healthy and thriving. I can't wait to see them again! I almost missed seeing Brianna completely when the little minx insisted on arriving on the last day of my visit! Max, being eager, arrived early, so while I got to visit with him, I missed the big event. As I packed my bags on the evening of the 19th, in preparation of my return to California, I was sorely disappointed to think that I was going to miss Brianna's birth as well. Happily, I was wrong and was able to be there with Nikki and Mario for Brianna's dramatic appearance. Contrary to some women, seeing the birth did NOT make me want to go out and do it myself. It looked like a lot of hard work! Three cheers for the bravery of motherhood!

June and July were very busy months for both Phillip and I; work at Qualcomm went into its cyclical upswing with the release of a new systems upgrade, and things continue to be a bit hectic as old code is replaced and tested. It is not unusual for Phillip to be paged at ten o'clock at night by a weary co-worker who has found some problem that he - along with a whole chain of others - has to fix.

Meanwhile, I was thrown directly into "The 8:13 Series", a project my fellow thespians and writers from Aspire Playwrights Collective were working on while I was away. Only days after my return, I stepped onto the boards to take up the role of a series of ex-girlfriends in "Exes", who were haunting the playwright (that guy has GOT to get over them, in my opinion). In the same night, I performed as the goddess, Athena, for a really funny play called "The Pantheon", depicting a People's Court type enactment of a messy divorce between Zeus and Hera. Turns out, Medusa is quite the little home-wrecker!

Shortly afterwards, I was asked to be in a show called "The Collection", which was to be performed at a professional theatre, 6th & Penn, for the Resilience of the Human Spirit Festival. I loved the script and accepted eagerly. The story takes place in the Hermitage Museum during the siege of Leningrad (1942) and my role was the part of a young artist and tour guide who, along with other museum staff and Russian military, is slowly starving to death while waiting for the siege to lift. Natalya's passion for art, and her infallible belief that "The Museum will live again", helps her survive, even when faced with the despondent, angry and violent soldiers who burn priceless chairs for firewood and mock her naivety. Here's a few shots of some the more climatic moments... By the way, I have a new scar to show for my efforts there.

The play ran until early August, which was also the end of the festival. I went to a general audition and was asked to do another play for the North Park Playwrights Festival (summer is the season!), however it was only a ten-minute script which I felt, despite having an interesting idea and surreal theatricality, needed quite a bit of editing. Incidentally, I had submitted my own short script to the same festival, but it was not chosen by any of the directors involved. When I happened to speak to one of them, she explained that, while she liked the idea, the requirement of working with teenagers turned her off. I had assumed that no one wanted to do a "Canadian" play. Hmm, not what I expected, but insightful nonetheless. Anyway, regarding the acting role, I decided that for the amount of effort I would be putting into rehearsals, it would not be a good use of my time. Right now, I'm focused more on planning our Italy trip.

Yes! Italy! We are leaving San Diego on September 14th (happy birthday Steph), and will be flying overnight to Heathrow. Side note: the Economist recently quoted the Daily Telegraph as declaring, "... using Heathrow airport is more stressful than getting mugged at knife point." Yikes! Stress aside, we will be staying in London with Lincoln and Deb for a few nights before flying to our first Italian destination; Venice! I can't help but grin to think that a part of my mind will be comparing the real thing to the Venice Hotel in Las Vegas. I expect it will be less pristine and more smelly.. ha ha!

Our general plan at this point is to focus on one type of activity in each of the places we visit, since we know that it is impossible to see everything in one trip and we would only exhaust ourselves or ruin the fun by trying to do too much. So, after some deliberation, we decided that in Venice we will focus mainly on theatre - I plan to buy a performance mask, if I can, and then we will be traveling by train to Tuscany. Our focus there is to visit the country-side and take in some local cuisine (wine!) and culture before continuing on to a locale outside of Naples, where we plan to meet up with Paul and Donna and visit the ruins of Pompeii. Afterwards, it's off to Rome to see as many of the glorious artistic and historical wonders as we can before heading back over the pond, with a brief stop over again in London. Yes, we will be bringing our hosts prezzies to thank them for letting us take up room!

Final tidbits: Phillip's soccer team came in second last season, with our friend, Nora, topping the charts as the highest-scoring female player! Woot! Scuttle has required more medicating - I'm afraid she's starting to show her age, which is eleven years, since March, but is otherwise well. Maverick is great - his training is still slow, but steady. It was nice to hear positive feedback from friends saying "he's getting better"! We've had a few very successful parties here - you guys know we throw great parties - with my fresh lime margaritas and Phillip's eclectic music taste getting top marks! We've made some new friends and things are actually progressing positively with the visa documents. Phillip and I are both starting Yoga in the Park, which is awesome, especially since it's free, and we're both healthy (except for those pesky soccer injuries) and happy.

So, that wasn't too bad, right? Succinct summary of succulent... ah, never mind. I hope you're all caught up, and enjoying summer while it lasts. Take care, drop us a line or give us a call when you can.

March Madness

I think February is the armpit of the year. That's my excuse for not posting for the last three weeks, and I'm sticking to it.

Actually, this February had one bright spot; my dear friend, Heather Marie, came to visit for six, fun-filled days. Oh joy, oh bliss! I mean it. We had a blast - and I think HM's comment on her first night here sums up our visit very well: “Dude! Did we just talk for four straight hours?!” Indeed, we had. No sooner had our guest refreshed herself with a shower after her long flight, did we plop ourselves down on the couch with cups of tea and gab 'till our voices were tired. It was grand.

“Annie Leibovtiz: A Photographer's Life” was at the San Diego Museum of Art during Heather Marie's visit, so it was a natural choice to visit. Bonus: it was a Tuesday and admission was free! The exhibition accompanies the artist's book of the same name, published by Random House (2006) and was quite extensive. We saw the anticipated celebrity portraits, most of which were beautiful, but not as interesting (we thought) as some of the personal and political photos, which surprised us a little. Personally, I have only ever known Leibovtiz as a celebrity photographer, but this showcase was also “... a portrait of the artist as a mother, sister, daughter, friend, lover, concerned citizen of the world and participant in life.” [Jeppesen, Georgette. "Photographic Memories.” Décor & Style Magazine March 2007: 78 - 82.] If the exhibit happens to come to Ottowa, or you have a chance to look through the book, I'd recommend it.

The weather was mostly cooperative for HM's visit; she got a little of everything, though sadly, on her last day, very windy conditions prevented us from going out on one of the harbour excursion ships for a whale-watching event. According to Birch Aquarium, a marine research facility and visitor centre just north of La Jolla, the grey whale migration is 5,000 miles long, leaving Alaskan waters and travelling all the way south to Baja, California - the longest known distance any mammal migrates on an annual basis. With 70 miles of coastline, San Diego is an ideal place to see these amazing animals, but we were simply unlucky this time. During the peak migration season in mid-January, as many as 200 whales per day have been counted off of San Diego’s shores; sometimes, their spouts can be seen from La Jolla's boardwalk. Next time!
Other than that, we saw some good theatre, ate out a few times, shopped (Heather Marie got a fabulous hat that I failed to get a picture of, damnit), and we even went to the spa. I had a facial and pedicure while HM got a two-hour reflexology massage. Lovely. We didn't make it out to a live music show at 4th & B, the same, intimate venue where Phillip and I got to see The Tragically Hip, or the local dance club “Air Conditioned Lounge”, but we had LOTS of conversation, wine and relaxation – just what the doctor ordered, I think. All in all, a very successful visit! By the way, I loved the card, girlfriend!

The same day Heather Marie left, I went back to the spa where the small asian lady, named “Twee”, had promised to easily remove the bumps she noticed on my nose, along with a few moles. After checking out poloroids of previous clients and asking several questions, I agreed. This is California, after all, and this sort of simple cosmetic “surgery” is something done at the spa, not the doc's office. Having had two moles removed with a scalpel and cauterizer before, I was slightly nervous, especially since she had neglected to mention anesthetic. Happily, she had just the tiny cauterizer tool and applied a topical ointment, which satisfied my sense of procedure, and once she began, it seemed fine.

However, the topical anesthetic did not go very deep, and once she burned through a few layers of skin, I could really feel it. Plus, since the work was on my nose and cheek, I could smell the horrible scent of my own flesh burning. I flapped my hands at her until she stopped and reapplied more anesthetic, as well as supplying me with a little japanese fan to wave away the smell. It was better, but still slightly painful. I left the spa with four black scabs on my face and one on my left hand (a worriesome mole there came about after a sunburn, so I was glad to be rid of it). The best part was that this simple procedure only cost me $90.00. That's $50.00 for the first mole, plus $10.00 for each additional! It cost $300.00 for Dr. L. in Ottawa to remove two of them.

A week later and the scabs are nicely healed. I followed the after-care procedure to the letter, treating the burns with polysporin three times daily and now I have only slight red spots, which are fading. The one on my hand was quite deep, and might scar because it got slightly infected. Being on the hand, it doesn't surprise me, and if it does scar, it won't really bother me - better than a sun-spot! Plus, I'm really very pleased to finally be rid of those silly bumps on my nose. Children in the past have asked me, in their sweetly innocent way, if I was a witch. When I asked why, they said “because you have warts on your nose!”. Charming.

Ah, San Diego ... it's growing on me. Maybe it's just the change of seasons – spring is here, by the way - but I do appreciate the benefits of being in Southern California. From simple cosmetic procedures that can be done at the spa (Botox anyone? No worries, I didn't go that far!), to amazing weather and a wonderful variety of food choices that means I'm eating like a queen – it's hard to beat. For example, when HM was here, we made a point of stopping at Whole Foods market, a wonderful health-food, all natural kind of grocery that costs a lot, but carries everything today's health-conscious Californians could possibly want. Since Heather Marie has a few dietary restrictions and we wished to ensure her digestive happiness during her visit, we stopped by and of course, quickly got caught up in “oooh, this looks yummy!”. HM was able to easily find whole cultured yogurt (a plethora of choices), ground flax (a fibre supplement), soy milk (again, plethora) and specific cereal that suited her needs, Phillip and I bought fruit salad, a yummy cherry beer, soy milk, unsulphered ginger slices, dark-chocolate covered organic almonds and organic, free-range eggs. I mean, really! Are we spoiled or what?

So... I may have mentioned wanting to return to Canada soon, but to be honest (and I know Heather Marie will laugh when she reads this), I still haven't given it four years, as originally promised. That's not my only reasoning, however; things are at a junction right now. Phillip is up for one more promotion before he hits the top of his carreer ladder here, and I want to see him succeed at that. This means more opportunity for travel. Yes! Travel. Since Qualcomm gives Phillip three weeks vacation annually, we can take advantage of that benefit to visit Europe for our next holiday. Phillip would probably take one extra week upaid, just so we don't have to rush, but it's an advantage that's hard to pass up. That could happen as early as fall 2007, which means that NEXT year, if we chose to leave, we can travel again (we're hoping to go to Australia) before we settle back in Canada. Finally, we love having visitors here and want to give as many folk as possible the chance to come see what San Diego is all about (and have a cheap place to stay while they're here!) before we leave. It's only fair to share. Given all these points, I feel we will have fully exploited the benefits of being here, both personally and professionally. If I get all gloomy again come winter, someone remind me to read this.

Some unhappy news: Scuttle is spending the night at the vet tonight. She has been acting rather strangely lately: messing on the carpet twice in a week, eating and drinking erratically, and I found blood in her stool when I cleaned her litter box. So, I made an appointment for today and took her in – walking there with her in the soft-sided carrier - something that upset her enough that she messed in it along the way. Though it was unpleasant for me, I just felt awful for her; she's ten years old now and doesn't deal with stress as easily anymore. Phillip and I have had her since she was eleven weeks old and small enough to fit in the palm of my hand, so she's family and it breaks my heart to cause her anxiety. She was shaking like a leaf in the waiting room and when the doctor examined her, he mentioned a heart murmur. She will undergo the full spectrum of tests to find out what's causing the bloody stools, but they're administering antibiotics right away in case of an immune deficiency syndrome. I know she's not a kitten anymore, but I've also known many cats in their teens who were happy and healthy, so I am trying to stay positive. I really expect to have her for many more years. She may just have an allergy or an infection, which should be easily treatable. I'll find out tomorrow when I go pick her up. Keep your fingers crossed!

And finally, after much agonizing and deliberating, Phillip got his new iMac. I was home for the delivery and couldn't resist setting it up. Wow! They really mean it when they say “out of the box plug and play”. It's incredible. The widescreen, 24” display alone had my jaw dropping – and that was just watching it in screen-saver mode. The photos that come packaged with it are spectacular; Paul, you will want one when you see it, I promise. I find I am so seduced by its modernist exterior, cool functionality (including a tiny remote that sticks unobstrusively to the side of the monitor) and its delicious, but powerful guts, that I capitulated my stance on having it in the living room. It's too beautiful not to show off. At least for now....

Well, that sums up the latest news. Phillip and I will be celebrating our third year wedding anniversary this week, which means twelve years of cohabitant bliss. Crazy! We are both looking forward to our weekend trip to Floriday this month and hope that all of you are doing exceptionally well. It's good to hear news from “back home”, so keep those emails coming. I'll be in Canada from April 24th to May 22nd for the birth of a niece and nephew (how convenient that they're so close together), so I should have some time for visits in between hospital visits!

Take care, all and happy March! XOXO
Kat & Phillip

Observations

In my last update, I mentioned that I had more thoughts to write down, but since the post was getting quite long, I decided to wait for the new year to share them with you. I hope there is some, small, token anticipation, though not so much that you are disappointed with what I have to offer.

Anticipation is a tricky thing; it's often enjoyable because we can imagine a happy outcome, a reward, you might say, for our patience. Yet other times, it can be downright awful – I'm not talking about dreading something, not that kind of anticipation – I'm talking about anticipation that grows out of proportion to whatever it is you are waiting for, so that when the time finally arrives, you are buzzing with it, positively bursting, but the long-awaited reward turns out to be unsatisfactory and you are left feeling deflated and unhappy. One could argue of course, that it isn't the anticipation itself that is at fault, but the resulting negative emotion associated with unrequited desire, but I digress...

Observation: Canadians are everywhere. It's true. I meet one everytime I fly, and I'm not talking about flights to and from Canada, because that that would be too easy. On our last flight from Vegas to San Diego, I met an Acadian, who was living in Nevada because he was working there. Oddly, his destination was Conneticut – his flights were like a connect-the-dots puzzle because of holiday “mix-ups”. Poor guy. He was stoic about it though. Must the be Canadian in him...

We also met a Canadian family in the line up to a restaurant in Vegas. This of course is not that surprising, considering the fact that Vegas is a tourist destination, but I still found it to be a pleasant surprise. They were from Winnepeg I believe and were... c'mon, say it with me... “very nice and polite.”

I regularly bump into new people here in San Diego who are from Canada and just the other night, at a party of mostly unknown people, I met a fellow “Quebecer” who had come to San Diego to teach. My theory is that Canada will slowly but surely infiltrate the entire U.S.A, all the while being very quiet and polite about it, until eventually, large parts of this country (think blue states) will eventually come to realize they would rather be Canadian and politely cede, eh?

Or maybe not. It's just a theory.

We do get noticed however; it's our accent usually, but here's a new example: Phillip and I were eating at a deli in Vegas – one of those old-fashioned places that have black and white tiles everywhere, chequered tableclothes and pickled eggs in jars on the counter – I had ordered a lox plate and Phillip got the turkey dinner sandwich. There was an older couple sitting right beside us because the tables were those metal-edged pedestle affairs that can be pushed together for large parties but are otherwise separated by four inches of space for couples. My bagel and lox was huge: typical for American delis, and apparently my method of eating caught the attention of the gentleman, who asked us if we were European.

When we corrected him, he nodded, as if satisfied, and I couldn't resist asking why he thought we were from Europe. His answer: “You were eating with your knife and fork.” Well! I had no idea that the polite use of utensils was considered “foreign”. It's not like we've seen Americans on hands and knees, grubbing in their food with sauce-covered fingers, but perhaps because I found the bagel, cream cheese and lox too much to comfortably manage with my hands, I was identified an “non-native”. We got a good laugh out of that.

Another funny moment happened while Phillip and I were weaving our way through one of the many casinos that seem to grow like mushrooms in every available space of Las Vegas, including the underground walkways connecting the hotels. Of course, they are the main attraction in the lobby of every hotel, but in this case, we were on a lower level, looking for a box office, and quite lost. We were not alone in this predicament, for as we approached the the glowing promise of a directory map, we saw many other people with similar expressions of bewilderment etched upon their neon-lit faces. My favourite was a family that was circling the area like a herd of sheep when the mother suddenly exclaimed “Wait, I just got a whiff of fresh air! I think it's this way!”

One other, more disturbing thing we noticed on our visits to the classic tourists spots in Vegas is that the majority of people we saw there were obese. Some of them frighteningly so – often with obese children in tow. Considering the massive portions served in every popular restaurant we went to, and the tendency towards highly processed and fast foods available both at the drive through (a sad development in itself) and in our grocery stores,it's really not a surprise that North America as a whole is getting fatter every year. Living in Southern California, we have perhaps had less exposure to it; I believe California tends to be a “healthier” state than most, at least in appearance, so we were rather more aware of it in Vegas when suddenly everyone around us was three times our size. I won't quote statistics and sound-bites here, because I'm sure that most of you have heard them, but evidence to the reality of the situation can be seen in the fact that there are whole groups dedicated to studying the problem.

Something else that is prevalant everwhere we go: Starbucks. It's amazing! I have to admit, however, that we were grateful for the familiar symbol in one instance at least... It was our first morning in Vegas and we were both hungry, caffeine deprived and impatient with the endless lines at every hotel restaurant, so we left in search of a local breakfast place. After walking for a while, it became apparent to us why the concierge had looked at us strangely when we asked directions to the nearest bakery or pancake house. There's little else on the Strip except hotels, so we searched in vain for a while before finally ducking into another hotel, hoping for smaller crowds. Through the haze of smoke and flashing lights from hundreds of slot machines, we saw the white and green sign and, like castaways on a desert island hurrying towards a mirage, we pushed our way through the obstacle course of the casino floor and arrived gasping at our destination. I claimed the first empty table in the shop with a mixture of relief and resignation while Phillip stood in line - this one shorter than others we had seen. I had to fend off the various bids for the empty chair I was saving for Phillip and when he finally returned, I was informed that I should appreciate the mocha and muffin I was having because, in addition to the coffee and muffin Phillip had for his breakfast, we were out another twenty dollars. One would think that the sheer expense of their products would be a deterrent, but in the two-and-a-half years that we've lived here, we've discovered no less than three in our neighbourhood (walking distance) with an additional three within a five minute drive from us. Two of them opened in the last year. Still, I occasionally crave a grandé, non-fat, two-pump mocha, no whip cream, please.

If a cold beer is more to your liking, we spotted a sign during our travels at a local watering hole: “Happy Hour, 11am – 6am”. How's that for a tall drink? Wish I'd had my camera.

Speaking of which, Peter Lik is a photographer who had a gallery at the Venetian; here's a link to his site and a sample of his surrealist landscapes. The black-walled space they used to display his work highlighted the incredible light and colour in his images. I recommend a visit.

Well, that's all for this update. I know I rambled, but that's why I saved this stuff for last. It was a little bit of everything, all scraped together, so you'll forgive the ocassionaly dramatic turn of phrase, I hope, and drop us a line sometime.

Farewell, 2006!

As I begin to write, I realize that this will be my last post for 2006. Amazing how quickly the time passes. Come May, we will have been in San Diego for three years!

The last several weeks were relatively quiet, plus I did not feel prepared to relate to you any earlier than now the one small adventure I had, since it was neither thrilling nor fun. After several months of suffering very strange patterns of indigestion and taking far more Malox than I would like, I decided to look for a new GP, though our original practitioner had moved away and the group with whom he'd worked was no longer accepting our insurance. By the way, health insurance here is still a mystery to me and I fear that will always be the case.

Anyway, after going through a ridiculous rigmarole to actually find a doctor that was: 1)accepting new patients and, 2) would accept our particular insurance, I made an appointment, for which I was warned not to eat or drink anything after nine o'clock the night before. Perhaps I was spoiled by my last experience with the neuro-specialist, but this encounter was more like being a lab rat than a client deserving of health care. If any of you have ever had to undergo an “upper GI” exam, you have my deepest sympathies.

The ultrasound was not really that bad; cold, gooey gel on my belly and some minor prodding was quickly forgotten in the face of a starchy robe to wear over nothing but my birthday suit and socks, which was quite the fashion statement. More awkward was being made to wait in the little change closet in the hallway while people went wandering by! I couldn't close the door for fear the doctor would lose track of me, but there was a lot of tugging of the robe going on while I tried to read a book with the casual air of someone who often sits half-naked in a closet.

I was eventually led to a very chilly exam room which was dominated by a huge x-ray machine that looked like it was new in the sixties, and there I sat to waited some more until a lab technician came and mixed some “potions” as he so wittily called them. The doctor, who breezed in like a cold wind, barely said two words to me; this procedure was obviously done about a hundred times per day and they had it down to a bleak science. After stepping onto the platform and being blocked in by the metal film chamber, I was told to drink down something like Alka-Seltzer to the power of ten, immediately followed by chalky white barium.

Oh my f*cking god! I was warned that I “may have the urge to burp”, but that doesn't come close to describing the eruptions that emanated from me at an alarming rate and ferocity. I soon had barium all over my chin and hands as I tried desperately to quell the embarrassing variety of responses to these “potions”. The doctor looked disappointed with me and cruelly order another round of the gassy shot, which I wisely drank with smaller sips this time (I'd thrown back the first like a shot of tequila) and managed to hold it down long enough for the doc to get her x-rays of my esophagus.

Next, the platform was tilted to become horizontal and I was told to “roll like a log” for the barium to coat my stomach; while more pictures were taken of my insides. My flopping about and the pictures continued at a rather manic pace until I was made to sip more barium through a straw while lying on my stomach so they could observe my swallowing function or some such thing. During this whole episode, incessant burps were struggling out through my mouth and nose and I swear, one came out my ears.

When it was over, I was told to wait in the exam room (which was no warmer) and allowed to wash my hands and face before being let go. Burping all the way home, I had the sinking feeling that my ordeal would prove fruitless, and I was proved correct. Apparently there is no evident cause for my stomach pains. I've only suffered one bout of indigestion since then (as if my body is afraid of going through the ordeal again) and I'm thinking Malox will always be a staple in our medicine cabinet.

December was heralded in with the usual premature Christmas jingles in every store, though we were happily spared for the most part, since we did no shopping this year, except for a few cards and one or two gifts for each other. Despite this god-send, I missed the fun of gift-buying for the family. Next year, next year, I say! And thank you all very much for the gifts we received in the mail. They arrived whole and undamaged and were enjoyed and appreciated.

As many of you already know, our plans for Christmas this year were unconventional - four days and nights in Vegas! We began spoiling ourselves almost immediately when we realized we would have at least a three hour wait in Los Angeles. We paid the twenty-five dollar fee to take advantage of Delta's business-class lounge where we had free drinks and snacks and wireless access. It turned out to be a wise choice as we had arrived early and our connecting flight arrived two hours late.

We checked into the Paris Las Vegas hotel, which has a huge Eiffel Tower built into its entrance facade and is happily across from the Bellagio, which is famous for its musical fountain and light show. Check out Phillip's Picassa album for our Vegas shots. The interior, aside from the massive, in-your-face casino floor, has a concave ceiling painted to look like a blue sky dotted with fluffy white clouds and ambient light that is at the perfect comfort level of pseudo-dusk or early morning. No nasty sun to make you squint while you gamble. There is a constant breeze coming from the vents, cleverly disguised in the leafy canopies of the fake trees scattered about and once you pass the slot machines and card tables, you can follow the quaint cobbled streets that take you along the shop fronts and restaurants throughout the “property”.

These hotels really are the next generation of accommodation; they are referred to as “properties” because they really are like an acreage, encompassing everything a body could possibly want to find in a quaint Parisian (or Venetian, or Roman, or Tropical, etc) village. There are many little shops catering to everything from commercial, mass-produced souvenir trinkets to high-end jewelery stores and exclusive designer fashions. There are also several restaurants, from all-you-can eat delis to typical American-style eateries – we visited the St. Louis on our first night due to fatigue and hunger and were sadly disappointed with the very bland, standard American fare. This was later rectified by a visit to the most exclusive Eiffel Tower Restaurant, requiring a reservation, the correct attire and a “laissez-faire” attitude about having your wallet yanked out through your nose.

We treated ourselves to this expensive meal on the last night because I'd heard the chef “upstairs” was fabulous. As it turns out, we were both delighted with the champagne aperitif, the baked Camembert starter and the wonderful Napa Valley Duckhorn Sauvignon Blanc (2005) recommended my our charming, tuxedoed – and Russian! waiter. My vegetarian main was beautiful, if a little boring in flavour, but I found Phillip's organic chicken dish very subtle and delicious. My chocolate hazelnut desert with espresso was wonderful, but the whole experience reminded me that French food is very rich, often hearty, and not terribly interested in vegetarian expression.

Paris Las Vegas was not our favourite hotel in the end, mostly due to the over-abundance of cigarette smoke. After walking our feet off for nearly the entire length of The Strip, and visiting nearly every major hotel, we decided that New York -New York , Mandalay Bay and The Venetian took the cake for overall, cohesive themes, functional layouts and appealing offerings for the jaded consumer.

The shows were our main reason for visiting Vegas and we are happy to report that they were all fabulous! The first, Zumanity, at New York-New York, was a sensual celebration of human sexuality and eroticism and was done very tastefully, with a good dash of humour on the side. The point regarding variety in human pleasure was well made and the result was a very enjoyable spectacle.

The second show was a Beatles-themed affair titled “Love” that made me question whether Cirque de Soleil's creative juices were finally drying up, but nay, my doubting mind was quickly put at ease in the amazing theatre-in-the round, which made brilliant use of huge scrims; these curtains are ingenious theatre devices woven in such a way as to be made opaque, semi-transparent or invisible with the use of different lighting angles. Initially used to divide the auditorium into four sections, they seemed odd, but they were pulled back at the start of the show and brought out later to good effect. The whole show naturally used Beatles music, which heightened the nostalgic feeling of joy and hope as half the audience sang along (myself included) and acrobats cavorted in hippy costumes reminiscent of the era of peace and love and the anti-war movement of the sixties. Very very well done – our favourite show as it turns out.

The final show we saw was not by Cirque de Soleil, though definitely inspired by them. It was also in a round, domed theatre, but the stage was a huge, circular pool with multiple levels that could be raised and lowered for amazing variety. The performers wore a variety of costumes, from sea-dragons to ballerinas and synchronized swimmers of the 50's. It was a visual treat and what I found particularly interesting was the choice of white-only performers, all the males having been made to shave their heads bald and most of the women wearing skullcaps to give them a fifties-style wavy coif. Overall, these choices contributed to the highly styalized light, water and steam effects, which were very impressive. We did have one minor critique of the show, however; unlike Cirque, who use simultaneous groups of performers on-stage for transitions, this show didn't quite manage to hold the attention where it was supposed to be. We both found ourselves easily distracted by minor performances that pulled focus from the main attraction for too long or too often. Still, we had a wonderful time and hope to return for more shows sometime in the future.

We came home this week, replete with entertainment and have quite enjoyed sleeping in, lazing about the house, playing our favourite online game together and eating out whenever the mood strikes us (which has been frequently). Phillip has a bit of cold – probably as a result of the incredibly dry environment of Nevada, but we are both otherwise very healthy and content. We have some great memories of a very unusual Christmas holiday and hope that the New Year holds as much promise. I have more to share in the way of “observations” and anecdotes, but I will save them for our next post, which should also include a report of our New Year's Eve activities, which I promis for mid-January at the latest. Here's wishing you all happy, healthy and safe holidays.

K & P