I forgot to mention one very odd, out-of-the-blue incident that happened yesterday. I checked my cell phone messages, as I generally do every couple of days, and found a message from a fellow named Chris. Heturns out to be the step-grandson of the man who lived with my Nana in the last seven, or so, years of her life. He was phoning for information regarding Nana's death. Chris's step-grandfather, John, had passed away in the summer, something that was a surprise to us, though something of a sad one, and he'd left the condo he'd bought for Nana (in Florida) to Chris. Because Chris was adopted, the Kings County folks in the records office, wouldn't release the death certificate that proves the initial heir was dead.

I phoned him back and spoke to him for a bit, then decided it would be better to hand him over to Mom, who had a little more recollection of events, at least the ones from my earlier childhood. This led to me going into the creepy cold-storage room in the basement and digging out a records box that had been sent to us after Papa's death. It mostly contained photographs that had been in Nana's hands and had passed to Papa. Naturally, this meant that I had to go through just about every picture in the box, which must have been hundreds. To make a long story short, I dug up the records of Nana's death, Zaida's death, various report cards of my father and uncle, their own certificates, Zaida's military service documents, and Nana's original immigration papers from Russia, which I absolutely cannot read. I learned her last name was Belanski (I think that was how it was spelled), but upon naturalisation into the U.S.A., it became Bell. Interesting stuff.

Mom called Chris back, and promised to mail him a photocopy of Nana's death cert. and ended up talking to him for quite a long time. There's a very sad story of his mother (John's daughter) breaking contact with John, which led to Chris losing contact with John for 18 years. It's a real shame how stupid families can be. John was a wonderful man, and while he was never a replacement for my Zaida, he was as good a man as I could have as an almost-grandpa.

I'm actually in Toronto now. Imagine that. I got the tire fixed and Mom was generous enough to pay for it, even though she's only marginally more financially able. Frigging strike ! I have to get a job. A real job. I can't go on like I am; June will see OSAP knocking at my door for payments, and I'm dreading it. I applied to the job in Montreal, which meant writing a covering letter for the first time in ages. Thanks to a little tweaking on the part of Mom, it stopped being a so-so letter and became an awesome letter. Thanks Ma ! I attached it, and my resume, to an email that I wrote in French (since the job description is in French and the job is in Montreal), that required just a little help from the old bilingual dictionary, and sent it off. Hopefully, I'll hear something. I don't imagine that I will. But I'd really LIKE to hear from them. :)

Anyway, on a final note, Willi is having some trouble acclimatising to the new home. This is to be expected, of course, in that this is neither Mom's house or the old place on Manning (which is presently being rented for $1500 a month !). She walks around and yells a lot, sometimes calling out for the other cats (I suspect), and sometimes to located me. She's very unsure of herself, that is certain. Hopefully, she will get used to the place quickly and together we can start thinking of it as home. It helps that I got a bit of art onto the walls tonight and started to seriously fix up the kitchen - even if the microwave stand came with two (B) panels instead of an (A) and (B). Good thing Mom leant me her wonderful drill. Willi's currently half sleeping on my bed, so I think I'll go join her and we can both fully sleep.

Well, it's not quite what I had in mind, but it seems fate has conspired to keep me in the Petes one night longer. It turns out that Scarlette has a rather serious lasceration to her left front tire, probably made when something dinged my car on the 401 (since it wasn't there when I left Toronto). So serious, in fact, that I have to take her in to have the tire replaced. This is NOT something I can afford. Mom can't help either, because, well, she's been on strike for six weeks. So, anyway, getting Willi into the carrier and as far as the gas station and back was like a practice run. I have to get up in four hours to take in my car. Goodnight.

It seems that my going out to visit Mom in the Petes has left my journal ignored. I have no excuse other than my own disinterest, as coming home means lovely distractions. That and the fact that Mom has something of a monopoly on the computer here. It still makes me blink when she says, "Just let me check my email." I'm just not used to her being an email junkie ! This makes it sound like she's checking every ten minutes, but really, when she's on the computer, she's dealing with strike stuff. It seems she's no longer just in charge of the ministry stuff, but has taken to putting the spin on other releases from various ministries, province wide. You can read her releases, of course, at littlesquares. She's really enjoying it, though at the same time, it's exhausting. She's working hard, as are the vast majority of the strikers, but it's really frustrating to make next to no money, week after week. I wish I was in a position to help her out, but I'm so broke, it's painful.

I've had a pile of positive feedback from the people who have seen my website, which is very nice. I'd like to get its browser issues fixed by tomorrow night so that I can get back to fixing Ray's site. I think I'm going to give it a visual overhaul, too, though nothing drastic. Also, tonight I'm going to start sending out my application to jobs. I wish they weren't all out in Montreal, but if that's the way it is, then there's nothing for it but to apply to work in Montreal.

Anyway, let me talk a little bit about my weekend. On Friday, driving out to the Petes, I saw the Aurora Borealis glowing in beautiful green stripes in the sky. By the time I'd found a place to pull over to look at them, the clouds had already covered them. Saturday, I helped Mom work the subscription renewal table at the Peterborough Symphony. I handed out roses to the people who were renewing their seats. It was fun, and I'm such a good shmoozer sometimes. The symphony, itself, was ... FANTASTIC. The guest soloist was Alistair Kay, a trombonist of excellent proportions. The treat for me, however; was the conductor. He was ... dynamic ! I told him after the concert at the reception, "You absolutely rocked the orchestra out." He LOVED that. Anyway, what a nice man, and his parents were there, too, and they were very nice. He really did rock the orchestra out, too. The last time I saw the PSO, I had a nice time, but they had some serious togetherness issues. He has them playing complex, dramatic music, and it's clear that they love him.

Sunday, Mom was on television helping to host the PSO TV Dream Auction. It was such a bizarre sort of community TV event, with next to no script, malfunctioning monitors and screens, and yet, it was clear Mom had fun. I accompanied her to the hardware store to pick up fixings to make my room in Toronto look nicer. Tonight I'll be hanging up the window fixtures, while helping Willi to become accustomed to her new home. I also did a bit of miniature painting, which was very necessary, I must say. I finally painted a miniature for Rick to use in our Toronto gaming sessions. I think he'll like it, I put a lot of work into it.

Oh, and did I mention that it snowed? Yes, that's right, yesterday was full of snow. This led to a rather interesting conversation of what astrologers and soothsayers might have said about things were these the years of Roman rule. To list the weirdness, there was the weekend's rather unlikely earthquake (which I sadly slept through), snow after a week of 30 degree weather. Then there were the odd celestial happenings: aurora borealis, the five planet alignment, as well as the comet. The final conclusion? Things are going to get worse before they get better. How did I deal with these depressing thoughts? I painted more miniatures.

Anyway, I must get my laundry folded and into my suitcase. I plan to be leaving here in the next couple of hours. I really don't want to leave, but... I can't run away from real life, at least, not for long.