Nine-thousand words worth

Chillin' at Dawson's cottage house up north, I've decided to take a break from the champagne and horseshoes to do a bit a catch up; I've been taking a bunch of random pictures that I've been meaning to post and write about, but haven't had the time until now. I wouldn't want few MB of photographic storage to go to waste for these pictures.

A week and a half ago, I was sent on a trip to the west-side of Canada by work; one major city a day. In Calgary, it was the one piece neo-retro, the Jetsons meet the Flintstones, one-piece shower/bath fixture that tickled my "I likey" bone.

Who takes pictures of their bathroom?

I will have to admit that my prime rib and the chives in my shredded home fries also got to that "I likey" bone, but I didn't think to take photos of those.

In Edmonton the next day, I was peering out the windows of my hotel to look at the paltry cityscape when these caught my eye. Inexplicably inspired, and with no apparent purpose attached, I had to wonder about where these came from and what they were for.

Who knew those Egyptians travelled so far?

To round the trip off we finished the tour in Winnipeg. There, I had a Milton Moment--though no picture to accompany it. Basically, after working the seminar as I'd been sent to do, I dropped off all my equipment in my room, and headed out for drinks at the bar. I returned over an hour later to find that my door had not closed properly, but that both laptops and all my precious (costume) jewellery had been left untouched. I thought that sort of thing only happened in Milton, but apparently it happens in Winnipeg too--and Washago as well as I've just learned.

Having since returned home, I've discovered that all the malls are in full Christmas decoration swing. Yorkdale Mall in particular has this HUGE Christmas tree that had me speechless from the moment I first laid eyes on it. Awkward and ostentatious, I could only wonder about how the tree worked of IF it worked at all. My questions were answered later in the day when I received an email thread titled: "Mystery Solved."

The Santas dance. It's so creepy. We've got it timed. It's every 30 minutes, starting at 5 after the hour.

I raced over that very day to catch the 6:05pm show.





I watched in horror and awe as that cylindrical pyramid of Santas all danced and sang just the words "jingle bells" over and over. Just beneath the chorus of Santa voices, the clicking and rolling sounds of mechanical joints played their own symphony--truly an eerie experience that I was glad to have not missed.

And now, here I am, sitting in what was thought to be a cottage, but what turned out to be a house nicer than my own, surrounded by my theatric family of nearly 10 years. The roast is in the oven with the potatoes, and we're convened around the fireplace co-existing in the same space. Champagne and horseshoes, beer and pedicures, cocktails and knitting, wine and video games--this weekend is turning out just splendidly.