Check out my latest site design in fully functioning action! (I love that she called it a “virtual sweater”).
As much as I have tried to stop myself from waxing nostalgic since the Christmas holidays, I keep finding myself indulging in forays into bits of my past. At times it has been enlightening and at others it has been self-destructive, but looking backward into my past has continually been pushing its way through my mind.
I’ve come to the conclusion that this memory surge is at least partially due to the fact that the Fiery One and I spent as little time as possible involved in family activities and focussed primarily on doing whatever the hell we wanted during the holidays. Our Christmases are spent in Cosmopolis, because both our families are there, and that is where I lived for nearly twenty-one years before moving to Cityville upon marrying the Fiery One. Normally, while there we feel badgered into showing up for meal after present opening after visit after dinner after birthday supper after more visiting, and when the whole thing is done, we are stressed out, tired, disappointed with our lack of proper relaxation and enjoyment, and filled with dark resentment rather than good fellow-feeling. In short: usually, when we leave Cosmopolis after extended holidays, I am too full of other emotional and psychological distractions to give much thought to the place and the friends in it that I do miss quite dearly.
After leaving Cosmopolis on January 2nd following a thoroughly enjoyable, relaxing, and mostly family-free laze-fest, I was not in my usual post-family-holiday state of nervous distraction. In fact, I was left feeling quite pleasant and found myself looking back fondly on my vacation even as the bus was pulling out of the depot. (No driving or flying for us. We enjoy the down-to-earth transportation of our provincial bus system, complete with wet-naps in the standing-room-only washroom and belching seat companions to keep us warm).
One of the things I’ve been plagued with over the last couple of weeks is missing my friends from there. Frances is an excellent example of the wonderfulness that is so wonderful that it hurts to remember how wonderful it is run into her in my favourite Cosmopolian Vietnamese restaurant. Of course, if I lived there all the time, I would not spend all my time feeling overwhelmed by her wonderfulness, but it would still be Good with a capital G to get to see her on even a semi-regular basis.
One of my favourite ever people, she is a very super cool, creatively talented, lanky-like-I-wish-I-was, intelligent freak of a human being. We’ve been friends since she was fourteen and I was twenty-one. Over coffee just after Christmas, she tried hiding from me and my technical eye, feigning camera shyness,
but she came out at the last minute with a brilliant smile.
Later, we went to a restaurant where she attempted to ignore my poking a camera lens at her. The book of poetry offered little distraction from my stone still and concentrated attention, but she pretended to be reading very believably.
Ain’t she cute?
She is also an excellent excuse for putting my latest attempts at photography up on the Intarweb. (For more of my latest pictures, click on the little photograph icon in the middle of the left-hand sidebar).