So there are a lot of things about Santa that one can explain away with magic:
How does he fit a whole planet's worth of presents on his sleigh? Magic.
How does he travel across the planet in just one night? Magic.
How does he fit down a chimney, or into houses without chimneys? Magic.
Now, I've been watching a lot of Christmas movies these days. There's no snow on the ground and 16 degrees Celsius outside doesn't really get me into the spirit.
In all the Santa-related ones I've seen, in addition to making everything logically occur by magic, there are always parts of the movie that are about the reasons people believe or don't believe in Santa Claus. Most of it has to do with blind faith and believing in the Christmas spirit - kind of like God in that respect, a little bit.
In the end, everyone's faith in the man in red is renewed and they all live happily ever after.
But let's look at those silver screen disbelievers. Santa, to them, is a construct of their childhood, something to be grown out of. There are a myriad of ways in which they can "prove" he doesn't exist. But the one thing that always bothered me was, how can they rationalize that mystery present that's under the tree for their kids (or themselves) on Christmas morning?
Magic?
*******
We're heading back to Ottawa tomorrow morning. Our flight is at 620, but given that it's Christmas and we're expecting slightly frozen precipitation tomorrow morning, I think we're going to try to get to the airport for around 500. Which means that we need to get ourselves out of bed at around 400 in order to get everything ready for us to be gone for two and a half weeks. Which means that by the time we arrive in Ottawa, with the time difference, we will have been up since 230. I'm definitely going to bed early tonight!
About a month and a half ago, Andy and I organized a little gathering at our place for the people in my class to watch hockey on our big screen HDTV. It was informal, nothing special, but people said they would come, and then, last minute, canceled on us, or just didn't show. Only one person arrived, and she didn't even really like hockey, so I felt bad for her.
At my class' insistence, we decided to do it again, last night. It would be the best time for us, right in the middle of Andy's exams, and before my three-day work extravaganza before we leave on Thursday. I sent out an invitation to everyone and their spouses two weeks ago, to make sure there were no schedule conflicts. I got three responses from couples willing to come. Yesterday afternoon, one of them emailed to apologize that they couldn't come due to illness. That's fine. I got another email at 8:10 (that's twenty minutes before they were supposed to arrive), from another couple, saying they just couldn't make it. Didn't hear anything from anyone else.
At 9:00, a couple I'd invited but didn't hear from showed up. They brought their two-year-old daughter, which was nice, but meant that they couldn't stay long. And they weren't really interested in hockey, so again I felt bad that there weren't more people present who could talk about stuff that wasn't hockey (the hockey thing was a front, really, to get people together one more time before Christmas).
What's worse is Andy and I spent all day baking cookies and shortbread and cakes and we cleaned the house from top to bottom, and decorated it for Christmas and everything. And no one came.
So I'm not having any more parties until I can get signed and sword Affidavits from everyone saying that they're coming. It's just a waste of my time, and I'm more than a little ticked about it.
I'm looking forward to coming home. We'll essentially be homeless, which means that we will have none of the responsibility of hosting and worrying about that shit.
Every once in a while, it hits me - I mean, really hits me - that I live on a rock in the middle of the ocean, surrounded by short people descended from alcoholic Irishmen.
I'll be in the copy room at the office and hear a burst of something I can only assume is English, and it will hit me.
I'll be struggling through 100km/h winds pushing rain into crevices I didn't even know I had, and it will hit me.
I'll be drunk in a crowd of happy drunk people and feel like I suddenly belong, and it will hit me.
A perfect stranger will address me as "me dearest darling girl," tell me all her troubles, and send me on my way with a laugh, and it will hit me.
You get the picture.
I'm going home to Ottawa next Thursday (only six short days from now) and I know I'll be asked again and again, "So, what's it like living in Newfoundland?" So I'm trying to figure out what I'm going to say about this particular period of my life.
In the past five months, I have:
Consumed more alcohol than I have in the past year.
Eaten cod tongues, scrunchions, bakeapples, and seal flipper pie. Not really keen on any of them.
Been Screeched-In (drank Screech and kissed a Puffin's ass).
Joined an online product survey panel.
Had a crisis of faith with my future career prospects.
Had my faith reaffirmed.
Missed my dogs, my friends, my family, but have not felt homesick.
Learned that umbrellas are my enemy and my coat has a hood for a reason.
Been blown backwards by wind while standing at a crosswalk.
Seen two people on two separate occasions get kicked out of bars in front of me - on a weekday afternoon.
Met someone who works in offshore drilling.
Visited Michael Ryder's birthplace.
Gone grocery shopping every day of the week.
Discovered the joys of dark chocolate, and gin.
Re-evaluated how I feel about native Torontonians.
Nearly been struck by a car more times than I can count.
Been unimpressed by the actuality of Rawlings Cross (the intersection, not the band named after the intersection).
Suffered from sunlight deprivation.
Made curtains, with no prior experience or pattern, and without measuring.
Realized it's useless to brush my hair in the mornings if it's going to be that windy.
Learned that in this humidity, my hair is curlier than I ever imagined.
Learned how to straighten my hair.
Discovered that going back to school sucks.
Figured out what a lot of Great Big Sea songs really mean.
Eaten lots and lots of jam.
Seen lots and lots of movies.
Magically passed myself off as a librarian and did an incredibly good job of it. Everyone is still convinced.
Seen short ponies and even shorter cows eating off trees that are shorter still.
Stood on the most Eastern geographical point in North America.
Watched whales play in the breakers.
Met a bunch of new people. Liked most of them.
Witnessed 500 motorcyclists with teddy-bear passengers parade up my street.
Become accustomed to a peculiar dialect that's not quite English.
Decided to ask everyone I meet, "Hey Buddy, whaddya at? Why doncha come where we're to?"
In the past five months, I have come to call St. John's home.
I feel like I walked into a different world here.
This morning I pushed through the library doors and found the floor strewn with empty beer cases and cartons for vodka coolers. There was a tree trimming party at work last night, and, as always, the library became the receptacle for unwanted objects. Today's new permanent additions are a round table and table lamp from where the Christmas tree is now in the lobby, a table I tried unsuccessfully to remove from the library before, and an ugly white stepstool. I've hung my coat on it. I had to do some rearranging. I put the TV/VCR/DVD and carousel near the secret door that's always locked, after trying and failing to pawn it off on one of the lawyers. It's a full time job keeping up my reputation as a neat librarian with this crowd.
Then about twenty minutes ago, this David Bowie wannabe with a red leather jacket, studded belt, and bleach blond mullet walks in and starts setting up a backdrop - we're doing a photo session in the library. One of the senior partners has just been made QC (Queen's Counsel) and so needs new photos. So basically I'm pinned into my little corner until he's all done.
***EDIT 1:17 PM***
And now I own the office water cooler. I will be the most frequently visited office in the firm now - so I should probably do something about the squeaky hinges on the library doors . . .
***END EDIT***
In other news, I'm finally done my last assignment in my course for this term. Unfortunately, I don't feel the same catharsis I usually do, because I'm terrified about my mark. I worked really hard on this one and followed all instructions to the letter. So hopefully this one works out better than all my other ones. I have never doubted my competency as an anthropologist more than in this course. I can only hope next term is an improvement.
On the plus side, aside from my work obligations, I'm free and clear to do whatever I want in the next week, before we head back home. I finished my huge project in the library (recataloguing the whole thing), so I can take it easy for the next little while and rest on my laurels a bit. Just mostly catching up on filing and paperwork at this point, so I can leave early every day for the rest of it.
Fortunately, I'll have enough to keep myself busy, running around with last-minute errands, to keep myself out of Andy's way as he studies for his exams. He has one Thursday, Friday, then Monday. He's only really studying for the Thursday one. Cross your fingers his strategy works out.
Saturday it poured snow all day (and if you have ever been to Newfoundland you will understand why I said that it "poured" snow). It was pretty miserable. Not to mention pitch black. So I decided to decorate the house for Christmas. I don't usually do this until the 20th or so, but seeing as we're leaving next week for Ottawa I figured I might as well enjoy it.
Then the next day all the snow was gone.
Sunday night we had the most insane windstorm I have ever seen. The government actually saw fit to publish a wind warning (which they don't usually do until it hits about 120km/h over here.
Didn't get much sleep, so I crashed early last night (if you can call 1:30 early).
I wake up this morning - SNOW.
But it's going up to 11 on Thursday so I'm sure it will be gone soon.
Of course, since I talked smack yesterday about there being no snow, it then spent the night snowing like crazy. Only a little stuck, to cars and grass, and it'll be gone in an hour or two when the sun comes up. But still, I should watch my mouth . . .
I used to subscribe to TSN's daily emails about hockey and sports, but I stopped about a year ago (when I finished my MA), because I was sick of hockey and tired of crap filling up my mailbox that I only barely read. I had to sign up again yesterday. It's slowly going around the office that I'm doing my PhD in hockey. Every day, someone new comes into the library, ostensibly to look for some case somewhere, but really to grill me on my subject of study. Mostly it's the men (not surprisingly).
However, although this attention is flattering and is boosting my status as the coolest librarian that ever was, they also seem to be under the impression that I'm something of a hockey guru, and that I know every little thing that has happens in the NHL, as it happens. I don't, of course, I couldn't really care less - I'm more into what goes on in the lower levels of the game these days. But I have to keep up my pretense of being cool, so now I'm reading up.
Speaking of hockey gurus . . .
A couple of weeks ago, after the election was over, I emailed a certain eminent hockey personage in Parliament (yes, we know who I'm talking about - I just don't want to name names). I had heard that he once chaired the 1999 Molson Open Ice Summit on hockey violence, and I wanted to know more. I've been looking for information on this summit for a few years, in a desultory fashion, but now it's kind of key to my research. Problem is that there's no official public documentation available on the internet or in bookstores. So I need to go to the unofficial and official but not public stuff - the policy implementation, talking to people in the know . . . you know.
About a week ago, his assistant emailed me back. She said that he was very interested in my project, and gave me the name of someone who might be able to help me better. She also told me to not hesitate to ask again if I needed any more help, which was nice.
I emailed this next person yesterday, and got an email from her this morning. She thinks that the only reason she got named by the first person is because she saw him last week (keep in mind that this summit was almost ten years ago and nothing has really happened with it since). She gave me three more names, all of whom are deeply embedded in Hockey Canada (Calgary office), and one of whom is married to another eminent hockey personage and sportscaster.
The best part is that she said that she thought my research (and I had only really given her the topic title) was FASCINATING, and that she predicted the people in Hockey Canada would be very willing to help me. She suggested that I closely ally myself with them (which I think implies that they would be interested in the long-term implications of the research . . . can you say JOB?), and, best of all, she opined that when the dissertation was finished it would likely make page one of every sports section in the country.
So that crisis of faith I was having earlier? I was just getting flak from the wrong people. Sure, I might suck at school, but those people who are the most important for my future prospects still think I'm the coolest kid in school.
I feel a little better.
Living in a harbour town, especially on the other side of the hill, I often forget that I live near the ocean. And then when I'm nearly blown over, I remember.
I am enjoying my new life here in St. John's. School is harder than I thought it would be, but is thankfully over for a month. I still have one more assignment to hand it, so I'm hoping to kick its ass and bring my grade up a bit. Andy's looking forward to a new start next term as well.
There's no snow here at all. We had that one flurry back in October, and nothing that's stuck since. Mostly it rains every day and is windy enough to make it not worth even brushing your hair in the morning, but it's pretty warm - today it's 7 degrees and almost sort of sunny - though they expect rain this afternoon.
The people that we know here are very nice, and I will miss them when we're home.
But I'm really looking forward to coming home. Dealing with family issues, snow, noise, lack of time alone . . . I can't wait.