balancing the scales

Another update of goodness?

Sure.

Let me at least try to average out these posts. So far I'm at a 4:1 ratio for unhappiness. I've got a fair way to go to level the field.

After some rummaging around, I have found more images of life in Canada. Here.


Fruit platters. Yes, they get a mention. They are amazing. The grocery stores here really are all about convenience, and I have occasionally succumbed. This was my favourite purchase ever:



Aggressive storm clouds with chilly temperatures announced the arrival of fall:



Don't hate me, but I think North America has really got the market on celebrating the seasons. Fall is all about orange, about pumpkins and costumes and leaves and corn mazes and hay rides and apple cider. It is an exciting time of year, in contrast to autumn in New Zealand which is greeted with hesitation; it means a long winter with nothing to look forward to is on its way. It's so different here, the way the seasons are embraced:













I have been informed (and it has been demonstrated more than once) that I am cheek-pinchingly cute. I was not entirely impressed:



We visited the closed gates of a magical, fairy tale, story book garden and had fun anyway:





I met a chipmunk that was cuter than anything I'd seen to date:



And who knew that a place with "Bog" in its name could be so beautiful?



There was an attempt to convince me that there would come a time when I would enjoy life again:



I chased Canadian Geese which amounted to, well, nothing:

I baked cupcakes which were met with rave reviews:



This blue shame was endured...



...to provide access to this:





Niagara Falls was stunning, breath taking, mesmerising:







Look, a genuine laugh! Proof that I am still alive:



Clifton Hill in Niagara Falls was certainly an experience. Lights and sounds and smells everywhere. There was a visit to a haunted house where I screamed like a little girl, many many times.



Overall, the falls and surrounding attractions were a success. As you can see:



A picnic in the bitterly cold wind filled us up the next day...



...and gave us strength to create masterpieces later that evening. It was my first time and I was nervous, I was shy, I was scared of making a mistake...



...but after the first incision, I stopped worrying and really got stuck into it:



And finally! Michael's on the left (o_O) and mine on the right (grr).



Again, these are reminders that I am having a very little bit of fun here amidst all the not-fun.

But, it's just not enough.

the smiles amid the fails

It occurs to me (well, it's blatantly obvious really) that I haven't taken the opportunity to write about the positive.

Don't be surprised. There are - and have been - a few good things amongst the Cloud of Fail that has been my life over the last third of a year. Yes, it's been that long. No, I can't believe I'm still sticking it out. Yes, I have more determination than I thought possible, considering that I first wanted to fold my hand after week one.

I have to look back and consult some photos to properly remember the good. Bear with me and you may see some smiles.

Michael and I took a trip to London (but not the real one) a few months ago. I was introduced to the terror of batting cages:



At one stage on our journey I declared that I was craving an oatmeal and raisin cookie from Subway, and I demanded to know what he was going to do about it. Ten minutes later he took an exit off the highway. I looked at him, confused, until I saw a sign for Subway. I had long since forgotten my desperate need, but he hadn't. Sweet:



We stopped at an old fashioned diner in the middle of nowhere for milkshakes and hot dogs:



It had a second-hand-junk store attached:




Another weekend we got caught in a torrential downpour on our way back into Sarnia. The streets were flooded and groups of children leapt around on the sidewalks, dressed in their swimsuits and begging cars to speed through puddles to soak them. We did. Fun:




The summer storms were incredible; rolling in suddenly and drowning the landscape before quickly moving away again. That same weekend I accepted a dare to jump out of the car and run to a power pole a few metres away:




I saw the Counting Crows in concert (not that you can identify them), and there was a rib festival with messy results:





We had beer and important conversations at our favourite hotel:





We found a deserted spot of beach to call our own and visited it a few times near the end of summer:





We almost got struck by lightning in one particularly epic storm. We'd jumped out of the car in a parking lot to run around in the torrential rain and whipping wind, thinking the heart of the storm was still a safe distance away. Then a fork of lightning struck a lamp post in the corner of the parking lot where the car was. Sparks flew, the crack was deafening, and one or both of us swore as we ran for cover.



We celebrated our survival of the near death experience with pizza (some more than others):



I tried to befriend a toad that wanted nothing to do with me:



We raided a vending machine and started working our way through the first season of Veronica Mars:




There was a camping trip in a tiny tent:



Marshmallows and AMAZING pizza concotions over a bonfire:




More junk stores, a beach at sunset, and campground visitors:






Michael has given me an excuse to exercise my dormant culinary skills. And when I say 'excuse', it's actually just that he's demanding proof of my long-standing claims that I can cook:



These are just a few of the moments that have kept me sane throughout the months. Without them, I wouldn't have made it. I have been living for the weekends, and I'll continue to do so until something breaks, one way or the other.

The weekends are what I'm really here for. There are more to come, and more stories to be told. Fall is an exciting time of year over here, after all:




I'll get there.