Yes, that's right, ladies and gentlemen, it's grant application season.
What this means is that, every September for the past, say, five years of my life, my attention, and that of my colleagues, has been focused on producing pages and pages of bullshit that will, provided they are stunningly brilliant enough, be sufficient to wrangle modest sums of money from the government.
Every year I apply and every year I am turned down. Every year it's a struggle to get the appropriate reference letters and meet the deadlines, not to mention the stress of putting your whole life down within the allotted space on the damned form.
This year it's a little different for me, as I am preparing to entire the final stages of my doctoral degree, and this funding could mean the difference between carrying out my fieldwork, and NOT carrying out my fieldwork. Things are rather crucial at the moment.
I'm applying to three very different foundations this year for funding. One, the Wenner-Gren Foundation, is an American outfit dedicated to funding anthropologists who carry out fieldwork that will further the power of anthropology in North America and around the world. It's a strange application, with a billion hard questions, and doesn't require reference letters but instead a detailed curriculum vitae from my supervisor. Odd. Funding from Wenner-Gren is a one-time offer of up to $15 000 US. Deadline: 1 November.
The second is my personal favourite, the Trudeau Foundation. If an application could be a hippie, it would be this one. In addition to putting down my life story as reflected in publications and scholarships, this application requires me to write a two-page "personal statement" regarding exactly what it is that influenced me to become so fascinated with my project of study. Winners of the Trudeau Fellowship get up to $40 000 Canadian a year for the duration of their studies, plus an additional $20 000 Canadian travel bursary, used to shuttle the winner all around the world to various Trudeau-sponsored conferences. Deadline: Sometime in December.
The third is the big poop of scholarships in the social sciences: SSHRC (Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council). Government-run, government-funded, this particular organization lost out to Stephen Harper last year and as a result had to cut its funding to half its recipients. Still, if you've got a SSHRC you're essentially IN wherever you want to be. Scholarships from SSHRC amount to about $20 000 Canadian a year. Deadline: 13 November.
So in addition to those, which are all so incredibly different from each other that I can't simply copy and paste my answers, I have also taken advantage of a research position offered by one of the members of my committee, which will involve a tremendous amount of work on my part and a shortly oncoming deadline.
My second comprehensive exam is looming in the second week of November, as well, and I'm a little behind (as usual) in my readings. The wedding kind of took out all my will to school, as it were.
Oh yeah, and I still have a part-time job as a librarian.
So I'm a little busy.
In addition to this, Andy has recently started working at Future Shop as a Home Entertainment specialist, and is still trying to nail down a regular schedule and cope with his mounting pile of homework and assignments.
I can't say things around here are relaxed.
But you should check out pictures of the last time we were relaxed by clicking here.
The fruit delivery at the office happens on Mondays at around midday.
This means that the only bananas available on Mondays are either so ripe you can't pick them up without squishing them, or so green that if you eat them you get that horrid feeling on your teeth - you know the feeling I'm talking about.
This messes with my routine. On workdays I generally eat a banana at around 10:45 AM. It's my break.
On Mondays, however, I can't have that break.
I especially felt the need for my dose of calming potassium this morning.
It's hurricane season in Newfoundland, and, while most of the hurricanes large enough to have names never hit our coastline, we get every other huge storm coming the other way.
So when I say it was actually pouring rain this morning, I want you to understand that this means a solid sheet of rain, so thick you can't see across the road, blowing sideways and UP at you at 100 km/h. This also means that all (and I mean ALL) the streets are flooded by at least 2 inches of water, some of the sidewalks as well, and that anything tipping downhill (read: everything, because this is St. John's) becomes a waterfall. There is this flight of stairs called McMurdo's Lane, that I take every morning in to work. It's like an alleyway between buildings, except it's just stairs. Anyway, I felt like I was walking down a raging river this morning. It was kind of cool. It almost made me feel better after having gotten completely splashed not once but twice by passing motorists who take sadistic pleasure in plowing through the ponds on the road right next to pedestrians.
Staying dry is not an option.
As a result, I dripped all the way to the elevator, left a puddle in the elevator, and then another puddle in the bathroom stall as I changed my pants and shoes. I had to wring my socks and pants out in the toilet, and they gave up more water to the porcelain gods than I normally do after my second cup of coffee.
I need a set of rain pants and wellies STAT. On the plus side, my coat only started to let water in when I arrived at my office, so that's a good thing. Nonetheless, you'd think I'd have been better prepared this fall, considering that I went through the same ordeal last year. But no.
In other news, we have a surprise house guest at our place. Yesterday afternoon, N came knocking at my door, looking at little confused. I opened up the screen door and a tiny black kitten zoomed in. N apologized, saying the cat had done the same thing to them, and had been removed with difficulty, as they had to go out (his parents are visiting from Moscow and so they're a little busy right now).
Andy and I put up signs and left a message with Heavenly Creatures, but until we hear back from someone, we've got a very friendly kitten staying with us. She's about six months old, black, with a white chest and white socks (ankle socks, if you want to get specific). She has an RC cat collar and a Hello Kitty tag, but whatever was on the tag has since worn off. If you look at the impressions left by somebody's ball point on the tag it looks like her name is Oalu or something like that.
She spent most of yesterday afternoon and evening asleep on my lap or playing with Andy, but then spent the majority of the night jumping on our faces in bed, until Andy locked her in my office, which is where she's been staying when we're not home.
I hope someone calls us soon. We're really not set up to be keeping a cat, and I don't want to just let her out and have her find her own way home, because we live on a busy street and there is a huge storm going on around us. I would feel so guilty if something happened to her, so I'd rather hand her over to her owners in person, or at least to some foster parents for her. I would love to have her stay, because she's so sweet, but Andy is very allergic and we have discovered that I am even a little allergic to her so it wouldn't be pleasant for any of us.
***EDIT***11:24 AM***
The cat's owner was on his way to the SPCA when he saw our street signs. He called and left a message, and Andy called him back on a break from class. He lives in the next block, next to our landlord, so he just walked over and picked her up. Apparently this is the second time Mrs. Oreo, as is her name, has escaped. He assured Andy that an engraved name tag was on order.
I feel more than a little overwhelmed at the moment.
Of COURSE I didn't do any of my homework while I was back in Ottawa, so that means that not only am I behind on my readings, but I'm also behind on my grant applications, and I have three totally different ones to apply to this year, with deadlines coming up soon.
I also got a letter from CRA the other night, with a reassessment notice for the moving expenses tax credit I applied for. So now I have to fill out a bunch of forms and make a bunch of copies and hopefully I'll get the credit. If not, then I'm just as poor as I was before.
I think Andy and I are suffering from post-nuptial depression - we sleep in wayyy too late these days and have a marked preference for carb-loaded foods. I also feel a little burned out, because our trip was anything but relaxing (despite being totally awesome). In any case, I keep putting things off - I barely made my phone bill payment in time because I didn't want to open the mail.
We did, however, write almost all of our thank you notes to well-wishers and gift-givers from the wedding. I think we have maybe three left to write, and that's only because we're waiting on the arrival of some pleasant surprises.
So that's one thing to check off the list.
In any case, I hope to be able to get back to a routine next week, when I'm back on a regular work schedule and Andy's at school on the days I have off. I just need to get back into the school groove.
I am returned to St. John's.
And reality kind of bites, I tells you.
We got home at midnight on Monday, and the toilet was broken, so we had to flush it manually (read: stuff hand inside tank and dig for rubber plug, let drain, replace rubber plug, then wash icky black gook off hands). Andy managed to fix it, but the property manager thinks that perhaps it's time to replace the damned thing, as they no longer make all the little bits that go into it. I figure it's probably about 45 years old.
Unfortunately the landlord isn't keen on replacing it because then it won't match the seafoam green sink and tub. I'm willing to have clashing fixtures in order to have a functional toilet for once.
What I was really hoping to happen while I was gone was for my refrigerator to explode. I even emptied it completely in readiness before we went away. Alas, it is still working, beating away to it's own internal marching band.
It was nice to come home to a freshly painted and entirely spotless house. I took yesterday off to recover from the travel (on Monday we started out in Tremblant, then back to Ottawa, then to St. John's, so we covered three provinces in a day, a little disconcerting). We even left ourselves a pizza in the freezer for munchies when we arrived.
Today I am back to work. The library looked like a hurricane hit it when I came in this morning - there were books on every available surface, and I appear to have magically acquired three additional chairs. My desk was piled two feet high with boxes and mail, and my mailbox in the mailroom, the largest one in the firm, was stuffed.
However, being the amazing person that I am, I am mostly caught up now and can now use my desk for desk-like purposes.
I just want to be back on vacation. Three weeks is certainly enough time to get used to not doing anything in particular, and when you are getting married, people tend to make a fuss of you. It's quite nice.
The wedding itself?
AWESOME.
We both want to do it again, because it was so much fun, from the rehearsal straight through to the day-after brunch. It was almost completely stress free and nothing went wrong. It didn't even rain! The officiant who married us said she had never seen a bride as chilled out as I was. It was such a great day. They are right, though, it does all pass you in such a blur. I can barely remember it from start to finish - just snapshots from the best weekend of my life:
At the rehearsal, watching everyone walk around typing into their phones, and then laughing at Andrew pretending to fight with his absent stepdaughter before the processional.
Playing ball with my nieces and brother-in-law at the rehearsal dinner, and getting Kira to hand-deliver all the attendants' gifts.
The morning before, watching everyone run around me doing stuff, and me with nothing to do. Walking in a huge group back from the hair-dresser's, carrying two empty bottles of champagne. Being force-fed bagels and cream cheese by the photographer's wife. Scrambling into my supportive undergarments with all the girls laughing. I walked out the door without even looking at myself, so I have no idea what I looked like when I left the house.
On the school bus heading to the Pavilion, and my niece Tegan smirking at me. I threatened to do the same to her when she was nervous on her wedding day. The bus taking a detour into Quebec to avoid downtown traffic, and us joking that I didn't have a wedding license for the city of Gatineau.
Waiting for the grandmothers to arrive after stopping at the Pavilion. Playing with a 3 month-old Papillon puppy, and Caitlin yelling at me to avoid getting hair on my dress (Papillons are mostly white so I really don't see how it could have mattered).
Joking with my dad as we walked toward the Pavilion. Waiting at the bottom of the steps for the bridesmaids to get into place, and then walking and seeing everyone stand up. Not noticing that I was smiling from ear to ear, laughing as Jess made a face at me just like she promised. Seeing Andy for the first time.
Sharing a laugh when the officiant asked the congregation who was giving me away and we had to look around for my dad. Experiencing a milisecond of shock when the officiant's vows went longer than we had practiced, and almost bursting out laughing at Andy's surprise as he had to say yet another line.
Hearing the A-Team theme at the end and walking to the end of the path. Standing in a semi-circle while everyone looked at us.
Gavin so pleased at his two giant slushies, then pointing out that he had a dead wasp in one of them and watching his face fall. Finally getting my ice cream and then it being taken away.
Putting on our "Just Married" buttons on the bus ride to the reception.
Walking with Stefan to the Lisgar mall and sitting on the benches as a few drops of rain fell. Trailing through puddles with the photographer.
Sneaking into our own reception. Providing a running commentary on the looping slideshow. Everyone trying to give me drinks and food.
Speeches. Me bursting into tears during mine. All the boys tearing up around me. Getting to talk to everyone I wanted to. Sitting upstairs with my cousin and Michael and Lindsay, and Andy and crew joining us in the quiet.
The after party - talking to everyone and walking around. A song from Victor. Photos with Jess and Heather.
Flooding the bathroom floor of the honeymoon suite. Brushing out my hairspray.
Stuffing my face with quiche at the morning-after brunch. Laughing as my nieces took full advantage of Shannon's good nature. Watching Michel size up my new husband, saying, "My, you're a tall fellow, aren't you?"
Hanging out at Stefan's that night, having long conversations with Cara, Jess, and Stef about important things.
The next morning going to Broadway's as of old with Will and Cara and Angus, departing for Tremblant that afternoon.
Best weekend ever.