Guess how I just spent my last hour and a half. Nope. Nuh-uh.

I just organised my receipts, etc. for tax time. Oh, the joy of it all. Mom will be pleased to discover everything coming in a folder box, rather than in a plastic bag, unsorted, as in previous years. Of course, it's a little confusing since the folders came pre-labled and for the most part none of my entries corresponds to them.

Anyway, I got a phonecall yesterday from one of the companies that I applied to last week. I tried to return the call today, but had to leave a message. I'll give another try in a bit. It's for a design job at an animation/design studio here in Toronto, and it looks, potentially, very exciting. In other work news, I spoke to B______. He wanted to know if I was still willing to be part of the team, with new work coming in the near future, even though there was a good chance that they wouldn't be able to actually pay me. I'm committed to them and his campaign. It's damn good work and experience for me. I also know, first hand, that the campaign has no money. They can pay me when they can pay me, but for this stuff coming up, chances are, it would be pro-bono. I told him that the answer was yes, I would still do the work, or as much as I could without cutting into any paying work that comes my way. He was good with that, and frankly, I'm good with it, too. The people involved in this campaign are all working for free, pretty much with the exception of one or two people in the same boat as me, and these people are all very well connected. There is no way I would risk future paying work by being a snot now. Besides, did I mention? I like them and enjoy the work.

I'm listening, right now, to a promotional copy of Martin Gore's Counterfeit 2 ! It's not mine, but Stacey has kindly allowed me to borrow it. A friend of hers, living in England, sent it to her. It hasn't been released yet over there, and certainly not here. So, what do I think of it? Arrrummm-num-num ! Delicious. It's got some interesting choices of music on it, and when I say that, I mean that these are all songs written by other artists. At first I was a little disappointed, because Martin's such an excellent songwriter, but I've gotten over it and now find that he's done excellent things with the material. There are a couple of tracks that I could live without, but none of it is bad. He covers songs written by David Bowie/Iggy Pop, and Nick Cave, as well as John Lennon/Yoko Ono, and Hank Thompson ("the king of western swing").

I guess I should probably get back to talking about my weekend in Ottawa. First of all, what you should know about the Balharries is that they all take photographs and, probably since the invention of the camera, they probably always have. My mother's uncle, Ken, was an architect, his brother was an architect as well. I am not sure I know what their father was, other than an unpleasant man, but the arts run strong in their blood, likely from my mother's grandmother who had been a concert vocal soloist until she'd been made to give it up. Anyway, getting back to the photos, there were albums of them, covering, mostly, the last sixty years of family history with the majority of them being of the 1940s-60s. It was very interesting to listen to the cousins discussing the pictures with Ken and Rosemary, sharing laughs over the funny stories and adventures. Photos were being snapped of everyone pouring over the albums, of people taking pictures, of people taking pictures of people while they took pictures... It was fun.

When the daughters with children left, and Ken and Rosemary left some time later, the cousins (Claire, Jayne, Janis, and Julie) remained, along with a couple of of significant others and me. Here, the stories began to change. The rose-tinted glasses were take off leaving the happy world of Ken's youth open for acknowledgement. For the first time, probably in the history of the Balharries, words were not minced, skeletons were not left gathering dust in their respective closets. Now, the truth came out, voiced by three intelligent older women who had a lifetime to analyse and understand, offering the stories behind the stories to Jayne and myself. Depression, affairs, sanitoriums, alcoholism, violence, racism... The narrative was woven together like a braid, different pieces coming together to form the whole, offering unexpected insites. It was the makings of a fantastic novel, or a miniseries, and utterly mind-blowing for the uninitiated.

From years of estrangement, new bonds were created, invitations to futher visits given; relief and enlightenment palpable. The walls of distance, while not destroyed, were left ruined in places with enough room for a few cousins to climb over and visit each other, now and then, should they want to.

I don't know what I did to my neck, but I can't turn my head today. I have taken an anti-inflamatory, yet there has been no improvement. It's not just turning my head that is restricted, I can't tilt my head back. I can, however; hang my head down - useful, really. I vaguely recall waking up in the night with a startling pain in my neck, perhaps when I was changing positions, but nothing more. Anyway, it's giving me a headache, too.

I don't think I mentioned, but I was supposed to do the office set for the fan film. I was removed from that task and given a different one, that is more interesting, but also way more challenging, I think. I have to design the glass elevator that the main character rides in. It's going to be quite a challenge. I plan to concept it out related to the footage already shot, and see where I can go with it. Frankly, I think it might be beyond my skills, and as I'm no longer boarding scenes, or doing costumes, I kind of feel that I'm not really involved anymore. :/

So, on to "The Perils of a Canadian Heritage". This is going to become one of those folkloric tales of Canadian bravery (idiocy?) in the face of that great danger known as Winter Driving Conditions. Most people don't realise that I actually have any living family, other than my mother, and that's essentially true, with some exceptions. First, my half-sisters in New York, and second, the semi-estranged Balharrie cousins that live in and around Ottawa. The Balharries make up my mother's maternal family and for half of my mother's life, they utterly ignored her. It was only in my teens that I met any of them. And it was to visit with them that caused us to brave some of the worst weather we've had all winter.

Driving was slow-going, namely because of the freezing rain, snush (snow crossed with slush), and everything in between. The roads were lovingly covered in several layers of ice and snush and the plows could not keep up. Everything was going just fine, though we'd seen a couple of people off the road and the evidence of people swerving wildly, until we came to Madoc. The snush coating the highway was over an inch thick in most places. Just passed Madoc, Bernadette (Mom's car) caught a tire in the build-up that covered the yellow line. Yes, Bernie's an all-wheel-drive vehicle, but as any good driver should know, there is nothing that four- or all-wheel-drive can do on ice. So, catching her tire in the snush, with a layer of ice beneath, Mom lost control. Instinct caused her to steer against the swerve, rather than with - or even to take her hands off the wheel and let the AWD do the work - and suddenly fishtailing madly, we were pitched off the road, over the shoulder and down the embankment into the ditch. For one split second it seemed like we might roll, but instead the car settled.

"Whoa. That was kind of fun !" I exclaim once we are completely stopped.

"No, it was not !" counters my mother who is experiencing not insignificant amounts of anxiety and adrenaline. I considered suggesting that we try driving out, since I think Bernadette would have done it, but our precarious lean also meant that in trying, we might still tip the car. I did not suggest it.

Instead, "I guess we should call CAA, huh?"

While on hold, several vehicles stopped at the side of the road to see if we were alright. Somehow, I can't believe that people would have bothered in Toronto, but just outside of Madoc, the people care. One fellow offered us the phone number of a auto-wrecker/dealer "about half-a-mile down the road" and we happily took it. Dropping CAA, we called the Poirier Bros and within about fifteen minutes, along he came. His tow truck, a cheerful red, had "23 hr service" painted on its side leaving us to wonder exactly what hour of the day he was closed. His response, when we asked him, was, "You're just lucky you got me when I was open." He was very nice and funny, and within about five minutes he had us out of the ditch and back on the road.

There was some discussion as we were being hoisted up, whether or not we should turn around, being much closer to Peterborough than Ottawa. We decided to ask Mr. Poirier and back at his shop, he called a friend out in Perth to find out the road conditions. Raining. Okay, then, we decided that since the roads would improve further out, that we'd chalk this up to a little (mis)adventure and keep on truckin', as they say.

Unfortunately, for the interim, the roads grew much, much worse. I was driving this stretch, and we did a near repeat performance of our slip 'n' slide when the snush again caught the left tires, only with marshland to the right, not a ditch. This time, however; I released the wheel and pumped the break gently and we came to an easy stop, turned around, in the lane that would have taken us back home. Turning around, we continued on, now traveling at about 50km/hr. Evidence of a snowplow eventually turned into the real thing and we stayed behind it for about an hour until reaching Perth where, it was indeed, raining.

Nearly at Mom's cousin Jayne's house, now, we naturally got lost in Ottawa (I have never driven in Ottawa without getting lost) before finally arriving to surprise Uncle Ken and Aunt Rosemary on the occasion of their fiftieth wedding anniversary. They were surprised alright, and delighted and touched, that we'd come all that way through such ghastly conditions (we did not tell them about our adventures) just for them. Mom got to see two of her cousins, Janice and Julie, for the first time in decades, and I met them for the first time ever.

I'll leave it there, because this is going to shape up to be a fascinating and probably very long entry. I've used up my lunch writing this, and there is plenty more to tell about the reunion of the cousins.