Saskatchewan Christmas.

E booked the tickets. We’re going.

If I were a rabid control freak, I would be concerned about gifts and baking and blah blah blah, but in my new go-with-the-flowiness, I just ain’t going to bother. I’ll bring a dozen mince tarts or something and concentrate on staying warm.

I’m going to have to completely rethink how I live my life. As it is, I frequently wander outside in slip-on shoes to plan my garden or get the mail, or pet a friendly dog, or look more closely at a bird I don’t recognise. Sure, I close the door in the rainy months, but it’s no big thing. Sometimes if it’s raining hard, I’ll put something on my head. Sometimes this is a hat. Sometimes it isn’t. Since I pretty much live in a sweater and jeans in the months when I’m not wearing a t-shirt and jeans, I stick a coat on when I go to work because I know it’ll be colder when I’m coming home. That’s pretty much it.

I open the bedroom window every day to air it out.

This Christmas, I’ll be spending a week in a sealed house. If I go outside, I will need a toque, sweater, coat, mittens, boots, warm socks, and a scarf. I’ll probably need thermal underwear. Inside, I’ll need slippers. Hey, maybe I should get one of those things Laura Ingalls had in Little Town on the Prairie. You remember, the illustration by Garth Williams, where Almanzo’s bringing her home for the weekend and she has that thing swathing her head that looks like a big onion? Maybe I need that.

I’ll probably need some kind of ultra strength face cream. Hell, if it drops below zero here, I need a pretty strong one. My face might just shrivel up and fall off in Regina! How’s that, friends? New, Faceless Liz, back for ‘06!

E says we can go sledding. Who is he kidding? It’s flat there!

We will probably go to restaurants. The Regina restaurant scene has just discovered fusion food, and E’s mom loves it. She does yoga (without the aid of Lululemon, who’da thunk it?), so I’m going to get her to teach me some.

And of course, they have cable. I’ll be watching Food Network and Discovery Channel.

I’m 33 years old. I’m going to have a familiar-tradition-free Christmas for the first time in my life.

2 Compliments.

Yesterday I had an early lunch at Jeremiah’s Pub before heading in to work. E had a student coming, and I hated my novel and wanted it to die, so I ignored it and went to have a BLT.

As is my wont, I took a book with me. I love going out to eat and reading as I eat. Love, love, love it. My friend Michelle in Port Hardy always used to try and dissuade me, on the grounds that people might not think I was popular, (WTF?) but whatever.

When I got up to pay my bill, an older gentleman smiled at me, and in a London-bred accent, said, “I always admire a lady who comes into a restaurant with a book.”

I smiled and said thank you. I inclined my head in a gracious manner. (How was he to know I’m not really a laydee?)

Tonight on the phone to Em, we were coordinating our Saturday, as we are going to a ginormous Christmas bazaar, where I will be buying all of my ‘homemade’ baking. Yeah, it was made in someone’s home, just not mine.

She mentioned the DefCon-alert-causing fact that her mother was coming on the trip. I expressed my misgivings, and she said, “Whatever. You’re Liz. You’ll handle it. You always handle it.”

She’s right. I do always handle it. Pretty cool.

Plus some old British ExPat thinks I’m an admirable lady. I can live with that.

Whacked.

So tonight at work, I thought I would save our lovely secretary, Su, some work and re-file some stuff that had accumulated in my classroom. I strode purposefully out the door, checking what levels the grammar exercises were. And ran straight into the open bottom drawer of our mahoosive filing cabinet. Momentum was such that my other leg wouldn’t support me, and I went into a clumsy ninja roll in an attempt to save my glasses from being crushed beneath my face.

I am now sporting a huge gash on my left shin, which crowns a swollen area roughly the size of my palm. I have always hated filing cabinets.

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