happy new year, as long as we agree that the whole "new year" thing is entirely arbitrary, and, to be truthful, i am starting to feel a little odd about a chronological system based on the death and resurrection of a god offspring in whose divinity i am really not that believeful (that is SO a word*). plus i really do not like the number 8. i really really don't. and it has precious little to do with the 8 hour work day since once you add my psychotically self-imposed extra early starts, lunches, late patients and all, it ends up being closer to 9 or 10 hours. i just don't feel fond of the number 8. i love 7. i quite like 9. but try as i might, the chubby little fucker 8 just does nothing for me. but all that aside, happy new year, y'all.
christmas was lovely, despite a noticeable spike in my antisocial tendencies. i saw a lot of family (who are exempt) and suffered a lot of gastrointestinal discomfort, due in no small part to the typical polish christmas menu: sauerkraut in several formats, mushrooms of various kinds, onions, pickled herring, beans, beets and the usual excessive assortment of bakery items. in fact mr. m and i spent the entire week from christmas eve til new year's eve, feeling bloated, gassy, gurgly and full. too much information, you say? you're reading my blog, say i. so there.
despite my fears that the three days in banff would be mainly moi, grinding my teeth in frustration in the hotel bathroom while a whole horde of neanderthal youth caroused wildly in the living room preventing me from getting any sleep, we had a good time. for the general safety and well-being of the entire expedition, i was placed well away from wild hordes, in a nice quiet room where i would be able to eat, sleep and watch "planet of the apes" reruns in relative peace. my cousin and his wife joined us, and thus we had a continuation of the whole family theme. alas and alack, what was to be the highlight of the trip, i.e. the whole new year's eve parteh at the banff springs hotel, was a washout.
right away, when i heard "costume changes" i had a bad feeling. a good band does not require wigs. a good band plays good music. needless to say, i was right. the big band of last year's amazing event was replaced with the kind of band you'd expect to see at a third rate optometrists' convention. let's just say that when we purchased our chichi tickets, we did not think we'd be bringing in the new year with bon jovi's "living on a prayer." also, the wine sucked.
first, a great big enthusiastic congratulatory shout out to the janitors of the greater vancouver area for the correct usage of an apostrophe: we drove by "janitors' supplies" and my sad little heart rejoiced.
so hey, canada, did you know that while you are slogging through the white stuff in your salt-encrusted mukluks, vancouver's trees bloom? cause it's true. they don't want you to know this but it's true. flowers. on trees. and in ground. live flowers. i think all this bitching about rain is a way to keep all of us living in delusional happiness ("hey, at least we don't get rain all the time!") while they have flowers. in january. did i mention the flowers? fuckers.
we did not buy a place in van, but we are working on it diligently, firmly keeping in our minds the fact that they have bloomage in january. oh, and the palm trees. fuckers. whose ranks we hope to soon join.
like i said.