Oops! I’m in Nelson!

How’d that happen?

You know, I’ve only been in BC for about six weeks now. But so far, I’ve done a heckofalot of travelling. For work I’ve been to Vernon, Grindrod, Kamloops (x2), Penticton, Karameos, Vancouver, Grand Forks, and now, Nelson. I’ve driven through a lot more … (Peachland, Summerland, Armstrong, Merritt etc) en route to some of those places… but six weeks, and interviews in nine different cities/towns is pretty crazy.

Don’t get me wrong, I love it. I genuinely like driving (after all, I did put about 10,000 kms on my little green car in about 2 months). I like the time it gives me to think. I like the time it gives me to listen to new music (*ahem Two Hours Traffic’s new album is AWESOME). But you can only listen to the same CD so many times before you need something else. And the thing about music and your own thoughts is they don’t really keep you alert.

And when you drive the distances I do (yeesh this province is BIG) you need something that keeps your attention. A friend of mine suggested podcasts when I was doing a lot of driving in Eastern Canada this summer. That was a good idea, but for some reason I couldn’t find any of the THREE iPod cords I have stashed somewhere in the house. So last night, I decided I would try something new: an audiobook.

One of you dear readers suggested this back in the summer as well… but I was hesitant to give it a try. I wasn’t how I  would find someone (besides my mom haha) reading TO me. Would it be cheesy? Would they do different voices? Would it be like an active reading or just someone reciting words off a page.

And the other thing is, I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what would make a GOOD audiobook. Generally I’m a big reader. I’ve slowed down a bit since I moved to Kelowna — not getting home until 630 or 7 at night, and getting to bed before 11 will do that to you. But I have my next 3 or 4 books bought and waiting for me on my bookshelf, and a longer list of “to reads” planned. I like to savour books. And when they’re really well written, I linger over powerful prose. Sometimes reading passages a couple times over, just because I can.

I finally settled on Dan Brown’s “The Lost Symbol.” The man knows how to write a compelling, book… and while it was on my to-read list, it wasn’t at the top. And I figured if it was anything like the rest of his novels, it would be a power-read, not a mosey-read.

Overall? It was a pretty good choice. I was certainly captivated by the story, alert the whole drive (about 5 hours) without even one coffee. The reader is really good. Tells it like a story, doesn’t just read the words on the page. He’s a pinch on the cheesy side — he does ‘voices’ but sometimes that’s needed: in conversations between characters, you have to differentiate somehow.

The other neat thing about The Lost Symbol (and keep in mind I’m only maybe 12 or 13 chapters in) is there’s some deep thinking going on here. Brown touches on some very theoretical science topics, links them to current events of the past decade, and adds his typical ’symbolism’ flare. Yah, it’s basically the same plotline as every other book he’s written (and I’ve read at least 4 or 5 of his so far) but the subject matter is just fascinating.

Here’s the thing though: if you’ve listened to an audiobook version of a novel (unabridged) do you still get to say that you’ve “read” it? Because you didn’t really. You’ve “heard” it. You didn’t turn any pages, you didn’t digest any words. You listened. For many, many hours.

Is it the same thing?

What do you think?

I woke up this morning, opened my left eye just wide enough so I could tell which way was up, put my foot on the carpet, and heard a *squeeek!*

The noise startled me out of my sleepy stupor, and I realized the offending sound came from a light blue Bubba Kong. Next to it was Platapus. Next to Platapus was Little White Dog.

Around the corner, at the foot of my bed, was Flamingo. Beside him, a number of rawhide chips, and the Senators Squeeker too. As I flipped my comforter back on my bed, Bouncy Ball fell out and jingled its way into the corner.

And Sully? He ignored the squeeky, jangly commotion and continued snoring at the foot of my bed.

Of course, all these toys had been collected and neatly arranged in the Toy Basket the night before. But sometime in the wee hours of the morning, the pup decided to redecorate. I’ve yet to decide if I like what he’s done with the place.

There was awhile there when I wasn’t sure if getting a dog was a good decision. But there’s something just too priceless about being greeted at the door by an excited little dog, with a tail that just doesn’t quit. And something so comforting about a little creature who cuddles up close when you’re sitting on the couch, and with a sigh rests his head on your leg.

I love my dog.

So I’m away from home for yet another Christmas.

This makes me very very sad. Especially since both my grandparents have been hospitalized in the past couple of months — and my grandmother is still in hospital as I write this. I haven’t blogged about this. I wasn’t sure what to say. First Grampie with the brain bleeds. Now Nanny has major muscle weakness in her arms and legs. She couldn’t walk for a couple of days.

It’s scary.

But that wasn’t really why I set out to write this post. I actually started writing because I wanted to post a funny photo of my one-and-only Christmas decoration.

Blog-world: meet Sad Santa.

Now sad-Santa isn’t so much boo-hoo sad as he is pathetic sad. He’s lonely, he has no festive-friends. I’ll have to find him some companions before the 25th hits.

But truth be told, it’s a lot easier for me to be ‘bah humbug’ than it is ‘christmas cheer’ when I’m by myself for Christmas. I’ve had two rough Decembers in the past – both months when I’ve had relationships end, leaving me feeling pretty shattered.

My mom is the real core of the festivities and holiday spirit at my house. And for me, the real reason I love Christmas is just the loving atmosphere, the tradition, the food. It doesn’t matter how much people bug you, how much your sister drives you crazy (haha) or your mom nags (joking!) everyone comes together for the holidays.

So in a new town, in a new province, where I only know a handful of people… yah, this year will be hard. But I’m going to have to find a way to balance the nostalgia and the bah-humbug. The only reason I shut down is because it hurts too much to think about everyone back home, and everything I’m missing. So maybe I need to start my own Christmas traditions. Ones that work for when I’m by myself.

Anyone have any suggestions?

Look, I’ve been a really, really REALLY good downstairs neighbour. I’ve grinned and bared (borne? bore?) it as you stomp noisily across your tiny apartment.

I’ve ground my teeth, holding my tongue as your brat runs from corner-to-corner, little toddler toes echoing above me. As my light fixtures shake, and plates clatter.

But tonite my mailbox greeted me with a Bell bill with $60 worth of unexpected charges. And I’m in a pissy mood. And your child is SCREAMING AT THE TOP OF ITS LUNGS. And I don’t know what possessed you to stomp around WHILE IT WAS SCREAMING.

Do you just revel in torturing me, your lowly under-dweller? Why would you do that? Whyyyyy?

I’m about 5 minutes away from stomping upstairs and sweetly telling you how much you are DRIVING ME CRAZY.

Yours forever,

Jackie S. Quire.

So I didn’t have a great day yesterday. And it actually only got worse from there — or at least, more frustrating.

But there are two really good things that happened as a result:

The first is that I realized I’ve not had a colossally bad day in almost a full month. This is amazing. So I guess in a weird way I’m glad Tuesday sucked so bad. Not only did I deal with everything relatively well (for me that means indulging in about 60 seconds of self-pity before sucking it up and snapping back to reality) … But it also made me realize how different I feel about my job and life now.

This is very good.

The second is that I have found a truly kind soul in one of my co-workers. We have a woman who does part-time work for us here in Kamloops. I really didn’t know her before I got here and still have only ever really spoken over the phone. But I called her this evening because I wanted to get the address of a sushi place she’d mentioned to me in a previous phone conversation. She asked about my day and I told her the truth. She completely understood and told me that next time I come into town I’m to spend the night with her family — no more of this driving 5 hours over and back in the same day. And get this: she even told me to bring Sully with me when I come because they’ve got a dog and tons of acreage and they’ll keep an eye on him while I’m working.

No more worrying about if he’s okay. No more 16 hour days. And hopefully no more frustrated tears.

It was just such a relief to have someone reach out to me and offer something so simple. But that means so much to me. And instantly took a load off my heart and mind.

Thanks Shelly

… why the new apartment is infinitely better than the old one.

I turned on the dishwasher. I filled the sink with dishes. I added soap. I turned on the water. I walked over to my laptop to write an email.

I got distracted.

I watched the end of “Lie to Me.”

I thought to myself “Wow the dishwasher is loud. Is it always that loud?”

Then I remembered OHSHITTHEDISHES OHSHITTHESINK OHSHITHOWDIDIFORGET

I ran to the kitchen. And saw this:

Not.

A.

Drop.

Spilled.

Anywhere.

The division between the two sinks is half an inch lower than the rest of the basin. That means you can be a complete idiot for upwards of 30 minutes and not hate yourself afterwards.

I KNOW I’ve talked about how well designed this aparment is. I’ll say it again: someone PLANNED this place. Someone actually put thoguht into the layout and the design.

And thank god they did.

Otherwise I’d be mopping water off the floor, and not writing this post.

Dear co-worker in Vancouver who was unnecessairily mean to me this afternoon:

Maybe it’s been awhile since you’ve covered a trial remotely. but I am doing the best I can with what I have to work with. While you’re sitting at your desk in the hub of the centre of the universe, I’m balancing my laptop on the armrest of the CBC truck. My internet keeps cutting out, and I was going the extra mile to give you good quality tape, rather than a phone rant. There was no reason for you to be so rude and tell me my story was crap.

I hope you are not always like this. Because then I not only feel sorry for you, but your friends, family and everyone you work with on a daily basis.

And I’m glad IIII live and work far far away.

Thanks for sucking,

Jackie S. Quire.

Haha, don’t get too excited. It’s not a REAL date. Well, maybe it is…

It’s a friend-date. And those can be the best

A couple of weeks ago the people who lived next door to me moved out. They had a toddler and honestly, I don’t blame them. The place we live in is nice, but it’s not big enough for a kid. And also, pretty sure the downstairs neighbours hated them. I’ve got no proof of that, but I have serious resentment issues with the people who live above me (and I’ve finally figured out that all the noise is because they must have a wee one who’s just learning how to walk. Either that or they run around and fall down and cry a lot). So it makes sense.

The person who moved in is a woman by herself. I first met her when she was moving in. I was downstairs in the garage and this poor woman was slowly shuffling a cage across the cement floor. I asked her if she wanted help, she meekly accepted my help… and in the process of carrying her little rabbit to the elevator, discovered she was my new neighbour.

Since then, it’s like every time I see her, she’s trying to move something that requires two people, by herself. So every time I ask her if she wants or needs help and tell her if she ever needs anything, to let me know. As far as I’m concerned, we single gals have to look out for each other. Otherwise, we end up kicking bunny-rabbit cages across a garage by ourselves.

So I’ve been nice to her. And later last week I felt bad. Felt like I was harassing her, maybe I sounded patronizing always asking her if she wanted help, asking if she wanted to hang out, have tea or coffee some time. She never took me up on my offers, so I told myself not to bug her anymore. Be friendly, but not to push it.

Then today, as I was taking the pup out for a walk, we met in the hallway. She told me she’d knocked on my door a couple days ago. She came to ask if I wanted to go to a movie. I said yes, and so we’re going to some undoubtably terrible movie called 12 Dogs of Christmas (I think she picked it because she knows I have a dog — and I’m not going to be picky) on Thursday.

It’s nice to make friends on my own. It’s been awhile.

I probably should resist the urge to write too much about the Schoenborn trial I’m covering (and will be covering).

This isn’t supposed to be a “behind the scenes of the CBC” -type blog. And I don’t want to give the impression that I’m biased in my reporting (even though, as I have said – and will continue to say – that this is MY blog and reflects ME not the MotherCorp).

However, this is the first time I’ve ever covered something like this. Something that contains gruesome details analyzed by someone other than Lennie Briscoe or Temperance Brennan. And so I have a couple thoughts:

• I now understand how someone like Vincent Li could have gotten away with murder.
• The degree to which the human mind can go off into the deep end – if not cared for properly – is terrifying.
• I have managed not to cry yet. Though came close this evening at 930pm after working for 15.5 hours and came face to face with a picture of Kaitlynne Schoenborn. That’s when my knowledge of what happened to this child (not for the squeamish) hit me in the face. And I just felt my heart go out to her, even though she’ll never know. I feel for that child, though I don’t know why.
• Court reporting is quite possibly the easiest gig there is. You go. You watch. You take notes (in my case, feverishly). You go on morning break. You go on 1.5-hr lunch. You go on afternoon break. You finish at 4:30. Unreal. (Though I should add, during all those breaks I was writing up stories, so it’s not like I actually got the time off… but it’s like designed to make life easy for reporters!)
• I can’t for the life of me figure out why the CBC would pay for a Canadian Press story when they have their own reporter there on the scene filing every couple of hours with more updates and more information than can had from the CP source. I’m more than a little insulted. Also? Had they of asked I would likely have written up a copy of my radio scripts for the web, no biggie. I’m nice that way.

And now? Bed. I actually almost fell asleep between posting tidbit # 4 and 5. I’m so beat it’s not funny. And of course, the pup is ultra-hyper because I think he slept the whole time I was gone.

Reader asks…

I am trying to figure out how to make my boys tidy up. I am not really a neat freak, but the constant disorder drives me nuts. I am able to handle it for short periods of time, but then the crazy starts to build and I start yelling.

If you have tips about how to make Steve put his laundry away, please share.

Mom, stop laughing. I can hear you ALL THE WAY OVER HERE and for chrissakes we’re 6000 kilometers away. It’s not THAT funny that someone would ask me for advice on getting someone to pick their clothes off the floor.

Okay, maybe it is.

Thing is, I’m notorious for an ever-present layer of laundry (both clean and dirty) on my bedroom floor. But believe it or not, I DO have three suggestions, dear reader.

1. Baskets. Baskets/tubs/tupperware containers are key. Personally I don’t like tidying up either… but I’m much more likely to do so if I have somewhere to throw it. This one comes directly from my mother. My sister and I thought this was the weirdest ritual of all time when we were kids. She kept buying these little plastic baskets to store knick knacks in. They populated bathroom drawers, dresser tops, bookcase shelves… you name it. Like I said, I didn’t get it at the time, but both Danielle and I admit now they are totally useful. And bonus: if you get them at the Dollar store instead of Zellers or Walmart they’re only about 1.25 a piece.
2. If I don’t put my laundry away or hang up my clothes AS SOON AS I TAKE THEM OFF or AS SOON AS THEY COME OUT OF THE DRYER they will NEVER EVER be put away. Guaranteed. There’s just something about clothes laying around on the floor that makes them look very at home. It seems almost a crime to disturb them. I blame Issac Newton. He’s the one that came up with that whole theory of inertia. Yes. That’s it. Newton’s to blame for my clothes laying on the floor. In any case, the bottom line is: if they hit the ground, you’re screwed. If you can catch them before they stop rolling around in the dryer, or as you take them off your body then you should be home-free.
3. Get a dog. Preferably one that sheds. This is probably my MOST useful suggestion because it’s one that really works. If you get a dog that sheds you will never ever leave clothes laying on any surface ever again. Because if you do, it’s guaranteed within 20 seconds said clothing will be INSTANTLY covered in dog hair. The only way to avoid this is to hang them up right away. Also? If you don’t walk it enough, the dog will likely start to chew on anything that is left on the floor. I’ve lost many shirts this way until I learned my lesson. Now I hang my crap up AND exercise my dog. Win Win Win.

I’m am almost 100% positive none of that was in the least bit helpful.