I went into the library on a beautiful day and came out into a crazy windstorm. The saying is something like: If you live on the prairies, always bring a sweater. And sunglasses. And a scarf and mittens. And shorts. The weather here, she cannot be tay-med. It rained briefly, but I could see beautiful blue sky up ahead (towards home!), and after a few minutes the worst of it had passed.
The sky was beautiful and alive (yes, I GET that phrase, I don't think it needs to be on license plates everywhere), and crazy and huge. And blue. My friend, in a meme, named light blue as a colour that reminds her of me. Sky blue? If so, I'm flattered.
[E.T.A.(06/21/06): Yup, a second friend, same meme, sky blue.]
I am a prairie girl at heart. I seem to be stuck with this condition, despite having fallen in love with Montreal, with Edinburgh, with Greece.
I live in Edmonton at the moment, which is like my hometown SUPASIZED. I work a meh job at a nice place. I come home to two cats (one of whom climbs up into my lap and purrs if he thinks I've forgotten to feed them) in a little basement apartment in a certain kind of area (many people, having heard where I live, offer the phrase "isn't it a little...uh..." I assume they mean sketchy. Research supports the idea that they might mean something else).
I bake. I knit. I am trying to keep plants alive, trying to sew again, trying to put down roots (yup, I said it).
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