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Apr. 27th, 2005 12:11 amAs prone to nostalgia as I can be, I have to rein myself in from time to time; really, thinking it's probably the last time I'll wash the dishes in my apartment is not worth sniffling over.
The whole concept of moving, of doing it gradually, of living in that weird in-between-places place, has been wearing me down. The last-minute panic is begging to rear its nasty little head. You see, I told my family one trip with the van would probably suffice, but now I'm not so sure, so I'm trying to move as much as I can with G's car. On Sunday, we moved two loads in the pouring rain, mostly sewing things and photos/albums/papers that went straight up to my room. Because there's our room to sleep in, my to sew in and his room to play computer games in.
Max is going West (young man!) with a friend for the summer, hoping to find employment in one of Banff's fine establishments. At first they thought of planting trees, but then decided that they wanted to be close to Nature but not that close. Who knows, they may end up picking fruit. He's leaving on Sunday, and whether or not he's borrowing G's backpack is still up in the air. He asked me if he could, to which I answered to ask G himself; but you know how boys are, they don't communicate. Especially this one. My guess is he'll ask on Saturday, while helping me move.
I didn't go to dance class tonight but didn't feel too bad, as it was jazz and tap. I'm seriously considering not doing them at all next year, as ballet is my where my interest really lies, but we'll see. My teacher spoke of having a competition group, which I'm assuming would be mostly jazz, and I think I'd like that, but I don't know. If she asks me to teach again, that would be one night a week, plus one night ballet, plus one night competition training, and I'm finding this year that three nights a week is already a lot. Though once I'm settled in with G, I guess it won't be as bad. He already prepares supper for me, but even sitting down to a nice meal is not quite as relaxing as it could be, when I know in the back of my mind that I have to go home and do stuff later on.
Speaking of nice meals, G has been consistently topping his previous exploits. If he ever decides to stop cooking, I... I think I'll have to hurt him. Tonight, he whipped up the most beautiful vegetable dish ever, using only his inspiration: sliced yellow bell pepper, carrots and Swiss chard, cooked in garlic with a little bit of brown sugar. The colours are fabulous together, the bright yellow of the pepper setting off the beet-coloured stalks of the Swiss chard and the carrots subtly tying it all together. It tastes great, too. And the best part is, I didn't have to make it myself! I honestly can't properly cook vegetables unless it's just plain steaming them -- though I suppose it's because I can't be bothered to learn how. But now I don't need to! *gloat*
The whole concept of moving, of doing it gradually, of living in that weird in-between-places place, has been wearing me down. The last-minute panic is begging to rear its nasty little head. You see, I told my family one trip with the van would probably suffice, but now I'm not so sure, so I'm trying to move as much as I can with G's car. On Sunday, we moved two loads in the pouring rain, mostly sewing things and photos/albums/papers that went straight up to my room. Because there's our room to sleep in, my to sew in and his room to play computer games in.
Max is going West (young man!) with a friend for the summer, hoping to find employment in one of Banff's fine establishments. At first they thought of planting trees, but then decided that they wanted to be close to Nature but not that close. Who knows, they may end up picking fruit. He's leaving on Sunday, and whether or not he's borrowing G's backpack is still up in the air. He asked me if he could, to which I answered to ask G himself; but you know how boys are, they don't communicate. Especially this one. My guess is he'll ask on Saturday, while helping me move.
I didn't go to dance class tonight but didn't feel too bad, as it was jazz and tap. I'm seriously considering not doing them at all next year, as ballet is my where my interest really lies, but we'll see. My teacher spoke of having a competition group, which I'm assuming would be mostly jazz, and I think I'd like that, but I don't know. If she asks me to teach again, that would be one night a week, plus one night ballet, plus one night competition training, and I'm finding this year that three nights a week is already a lot. Though once I'm settled in with G, I guess it won't be as bad. He already prepares supper for me, but even sitting down to a nice meal is not quite as relaxing as it could be, when I know in the back of my mind that I have to go home and do stuff later on.
Speaking of nice meals, G has been consistently topping his previous exploits. If he ever decides to stop cooking, I... I think I'll have to hurt him. Tonight, he whipped up the most beautiful vegetable dish ever, using only his inspiration: sliced yellow bell pepper, carrots and Swiss chard, cooked in garlic with a little bit of brown sugar. The colours are fabulous together, the bright yellow of the pepper setting off the beet-coloured stalks of the Swiss chard and the carrots subtly tying it all together. It tastes great, too. And the best part is, I didn't have to make it myself! I honestly can't properly cook vegetables unless it's just plain steaming them -- though I suppose it's because I can't be bothered to learn how. But now I don't need to! *gloat*
