Small comment

Why is it? Why is it that only when the dishes are pilled high and the apartment needs to be cleaned, that Veronica becomes sick? Why is it that Veronica gets morphine and I get a pile of dishes? Why is it that the cat needs to go outside more often when Veronica's sick? Oh right. Of course, the cat's trying to escape from Veronica. But, why the rest? Just a thought.

Always the first.....

So nothing exciting has been happening here lately, which is why we haven't been blogging. And Neil actually pointed that out to Joan the other day. So I guess I decided that I felt the need to blog, and therefore something "exciting" happened. Well not really exciting, but at least something worth telling people about.

Yesterday morning (Dec. 11th); and I will quickly mention that it is incredibly green here; I woke up with horrible pains in my stomach. I got up, fed the cat, went to the washroom and went back to bed, feeling a bit better. And then I got up to go to work, and those pains were back. So I took a hot shower and went to work (8am).

Taking the bus, when you are not feeling 100% is always an interesting experience. I tried to not look like I was in pain. And so I was concentrating on my ipod. I especially started to concentrate on it when it crapped out on me, and decided to stop working!!!

Needless to say, I was slightly pissed off. But there are never two without three right?! Well, I got to work; by this point I had decided that I was doing payroll and then going to the hospital; well I signed into my computer, only to discover that my profile was not being found. I don't know where it was, but it was not to be found! And I needed my profile to do payroll, for a number of reasons, but anyways... I had to wait around while the IT guys fixed it. So I ended up getting to the hospital at 11am.

By this point in time I was doubled over in pain, but very calm; the staff at the Vic General are great! I sat down in the waiting room for 2 mins, and there was someone there to come and get me. They wanted to take blood for tests, and they had already gotten urine for other tests.

By this point Neil has arrived. Two people from work had taken me to the hospital. And as soon as Neil arrives in comes the nurse to get me. Funny enough, Neil shares an office with a guy named Jeff, Jeff's girlfriend is a nurse, and her name is Paulina. So Paulina, my nurse brings me out back, I get to put on one of those wonderful blue backless jobbies... and so the fun begins.

They give me my exam, and decide that they are going to give me an ultrasound to find out if it is my appendix. Well in order to do this, they decide that they need to dull my pain. So they hook me up to an IV and give me some gravol and morphine. This is how I spent my day, doped up to feel no pain.

And so in the end, my appendix decided to stay hidden; which apparently is a good thing; and I went home. However, if I am in any pain today I am to go back.

So everyone wish me no pain!!!

Oh, and Greg gets here on Monday night, so we should have stuff to write about then too. :D

New computer

I have a new computer. Seems to work well - I've found the power button and something happens when pressed.

On a more exciting note, Veronica and I return to Montreal at the beginning of Sep and Oct in 2008, and, in 2009, we're back in Newfoundland. I expect that we'll be discovering Gros Morne's Long Range in 2009 as well. The wonders of weddings.

Next Fall (that's right, it's still Fall here) we're hoping to walk the West Coast Trail. Should be fun.

Let's laugh at Microsoft

For my research, I'm creating a windows Live ID. The goal is to get into the Microsoft (MS) health vault so that I can snoop around and see how it works; or at least see what MS is doing. When you sign up for any type of web-id you usually need to provide far more information than is actually required; and, of course, you enter a password. Some companies, like MS, insist that you have a security question that they use to help make sure you are, you. The funny thing is that MS force you to answer any of these questions using 5 characters. Some I chose "Name of first pet" (MS can't even formulate a question) and I have no choice but to change my pet's name to something 5 characters, or more, long. They're idiots (this is a wonderful overgeneralization based on one small problem but they're still idiots).

Oh ya, all the info I'm entering is completely bogus.

A computer on the digital horizon

I'm quite close to purchasing a new computer - a new Mac. This should help the blog regain the momentum that it lost when my computer died.

Also, small black cat for sale. Barely used. Never happy. Cheap, 25 cents. Could make good floor mat, or great dog food.

Back to Reality

So the wedding has come and gone, and it was wonderful.
It was also wonderful to see everyone in Toronto, Ottawa and Montreal. But incredibly busy. I don't think Neil or I saw the time go by, it was simply a blur. Hopefully next time we are visiting we have more time to actually visit, instead of 3 jam packed days. I was happy to see everyone, but it went by so quickly, I find it hard to believe it is already over.
Ah well, we have 2 weddings to go to next fall.... maybe we'll have time to breath next time round! :)

A WEDDING!

All I have to say is Melissa gets married this coming Saturday.... I am really, really stoked! :)
And I can't wait to see everyone while we are in Montreal for a very brief period!

Hey You Wake Up!!

This weekend I had the wonderful experience of sleeping in. Well to a certain point anyway. Bam decided after being outside for a while that she would come in and go to bed herself. And I don't think she was happy to find another body in bed. So she climbed on top of me and started to purr. I ignored it hoping she would go away (this is a usual occurance, and normally if you ignore her for long enough she does go away). Unfortunately this was not one of those days, because she proceeded to walk around on my back and the I got a huge SWAT in back of the head. I turned over and she looked at me and purred. So I pet her, and tried to go back to sleep, only to get another SWAT in the nose. Bam obviously felt that it was time for me to get up and for her to get the queen size bed to herself.

So much for sleeping in....

Camping??

Pathfinders has begun. And we are already planning a camping trip for the last weekend of September. I foresee September and October being very busy months for us!!
:)

Thunderbolts and lightning

My computer is dead.

What is semantics?

One of the major problems in designing artificial intelligence is having the computer develop a deep understanding of what is being communicated to it. If you tell a computer that you felt sad yesterday, the computer doesn't truly understand the concept of sad. Similarly, can the computer comprehend the concept of "tree"? Thus, the question is why do words have meaning? Or, in other words, what is semantics?

Help me out, post a comment on this topic.


By the way, I'm a very giving person. I gave my stomach flu to Veronica and now she's sick.

In-The-Trees

I ended my last blog stating that I would talk about an in-the-trees experience. So this is my experience. I went to a place called WildPlay TreeZone (here is the website: http://www.wildplayparks.com/elements/tree_course/treego_fullcourse.html) with my former employer, and the other 3 people I worked with. TreeZone is an obstacle course up in the trees. There are 4 levels: green, blue, red and black. As the levels progress, the obstacles become more difficult, and you get higher in the trees. Now let it be known that you are clipped into the obstacles with 2 big clips, and you also have the equipment to use a zipline. I must say it is crazy! Especially for someone who is afraid of heights (like myself!!). I mean we were so high up in the trees that you could feel and see them moving with the wind. AGH! :)

The obstacles were quite difficult in some cases, because you quite literally have to just let yourself go. Like on the zip lines that are in the higher parts of the trees, as well as the swings where you are clipped in from above, but there is nothing underneath you, scary! There was one fun obstacle that you got to do a tarzan swing into a big rope spiderweb.

It was truly a hair raising experience, and I must say, that I thought of my father the whole time, because he is an adrenalyn junkie like I am!

"It was crazy B'Y!!!"

This, that and other things

I guess I'll bore you with two things today - some local news and some social etiquette.

Veronica started "guiding" again. She's a girl guide leader for the older ones but that's about all I know. In other news, I made pasta and bread for the first time in my life, and we're painting our apartment (items not related).

And now for the life lesson...
I'm sure that there many books that explain, in painstaking detail, the rights and wrongs of our social fabric. Books that explain simple things such as "Don't wear underwear on top of your shorts.", or "Socks are not meant for cleaning sinks.". But I doubt, seriously doubt, that a book exists about the conversational intricacies of socializing with a grad student. Grad students are, a poor, minority genus of the human species. On the time line, they fall just before Neanderthals. They are today's slaves; a little above the teenager in the social hierarchy. Their situation is no reason for improper social etiquette while you interact, or feed, them (usually one in the same). My guess is that people "just don't know" - they need to be educated. So...

Rule #1: Do not ask a grad student what they are researching.
Why? Well... The main reason is that they don't know. The grad student may not even know after they've published a paper at an academic conference. Typically, the only aspect that is certain in grad student's life is that they're procrastinating (this post). They are avoiding research for reasons of sanity.

But let us suppose that the grad student just happens to know what they're trying to do. In this rare situation, they must reduce their topic to a one minute academic belch that, if they have any common sense, you're going to understand. This results in one of two consequences:
A) The topic is glorified to such an extent that you feel the grad student posses the question and answer to the universe; you immediately begin to bury batteries and dump toxic chemicals directly into the sewers, because who gives a shit a this point.
B) The topic is reduced to such an extent that you feel like you've slept one thousand years in one minute; and you're thinking to yourself, "Shoot this grad student and put everyone out of their misery". You're probably right, but those thoughts are mean, so don't think them. (Those are the types of thoughts you can think about your in-laws, but not about grad students.)

So what do you do when you've painted yourself into an awkward conversational corner? Proper etiquette is to never ask what the grad student is researching, but to ask how much money they need and whether they take checks or credit card. You can also, although this is not regarded as highly, feed them.

Well...

This blog was originally by invitation only; unavailable to the general riffraff. But blogs that contribute to world peace just can't be kept a secret. You can now access our blog (our? I suppose at one point it was our blog) from doctoraldiva.blogspot.com. So, if you want to read something well written then take a look at doctoraldiva. Once you've read more than three words you don't understand, or once you've realized that you prefer my unique spelling and grammar, then just wander back here.

Hey people prefer crap that's why they buy stuff at Wal-Mart.

Change of email

Well folks, it looks like Memorial University of Newfoundland don't want me anymore. They're disabling my account. This means that my MUN email won't work after September 15th. For those of you still interested in free money, you can contact me at neilbam@gmail.com.

In other news, Hawaii is a four hour flight from Victoria. There's also an annual computer systems conference (http://www.hicss.hawaii.edu/). Interesting...

A Really Quick Post

I have a new job. And the reason this is a quick post is because I am at work right now.

I am working for Metis Community Services. I am doing geneology work, some cultural research and stuff, organizing stuff with kids, and some general reception work.

Keeps me busy, but keeps me so happy!!!

Other than that, nothing is new, I'll write soon about my in-the-trees escapades!

And now back to work! :)

Back to the grind

I realize that I haven't updated this blog in quite some time. If I had paying readers I might just make an effort. But I don't. You get what you pay for.

First the boring news and then stuff about me. Veronica started a new job at MCS (www.metis.ca). She luvs it, b'y. Since she left her old job at ARC on a Thursday, Friday was her first vacation in about a year. That's right, I said Friday. The powers of applied mathematics reveal a three day weekend, which we decided to spend at Quadra.

Saturday we went salmon fishing. (We interrupt this story to remind everyone that Nick did NOT catch salmon during his fishing expeditions while vacationing on Quadra.) Salmon fishing on Quadra involves a downrigger. This device is similar to a fishing rod but much more compact. The downrigger's fishing line is actually super-strength wire from which you attach a heavy weight. Buttons on the downrigger allow its wire-line to descend to a specific depth. Once the fishing line is attached to the downrigger, the downrigger brings the fishing line, lure and hook to the salmon.

We set our first line with a Pink Hootchie - a small bright-pink rubber squid. (Fish do not like Pink Hootchies.) We started setting our second line using a small "camo" rubber squid (the preferred lure of most salmon). Veronica picked up the downrigger's weight, almost falling out of the boat in the process, and handed it to Doug (my uncle). He promptly clipped it onto the downrigger's line and we watched it sway, like a wrecking ball, dangerously close to the boat. Doug pressed down to gain several feet of wire-line onto which he would attach the fishing line. The downrigger read 1 foot, 2 feet, 5 feet, 10 feet. Stop. Up. Off. Off. Whir, the downrigger's weight continued to descend. Up. Off. Auto-Up. Off. Panic! Plunk, the downrigger's weight hit the bottom. Shit!

As the boat moved forward with the tidal currents, the downrigger continued to release wire-line. 40 feet. 50 feet. 60 feet. 70 feet. Fuck! Doug dropped to his knees, ripped off a boat panel and unplugged the downrigger; one dead down rigger. Now what? It was time to use the manual up - my hands. Twenty minutes later the weight could be seen through the depths. Once the downrigger's weight was on board, we realized that one of the downrigger's knobs needed to be tightened. Doug's response after my intense manual labour and our discovery that a downrigger knob required adjustment, "I should have checked that."

By the end of the day, one had "gotten away", one six pound salmon was caught and one really ugly rock-cod was released back to the ocean to be with other really ugly rock-cod. And to recap, I caught two more fish than my brother (not that we're competitive, we're just brothers).

In other news, I've officially registered at UVic and I'm starting my PhD this September. This implies that Veronica can call me Master (thanks Stu, for this one).

Quick update...

Veronica's still looking for a new job. She has an interview Monday.

I have finished my Master's and only the administrative process remains.

A side discussion generated by the previous post: Do we create time or do we live in it?

24 Hours - Just not enough

I'm a strong believer in sleep, and once accounted for, 24 hours is just not enough. Needless to say, Veronica and I have been busy.

Veronica's new job
Most financial institutions are the same - illogical micro-managed companies missing commonsense people skills (Jon-Jon, you'd agree, right?). Not surprisingly, Veronica is going crazy working for unintelligent debt collectors. We're both hoping that Veronica will get the job as resource assistant for the GSS at UVic. This results in the same amount of cash (actually little more once you consider the benefits like dental) and she only has to work from 9 until 2. This is where I commit Veronica to her aspirations. She plans to volunteer after 2 o'clock to help children with disabilities; she wants to discover if working with disabled children (such as myself) is something she wants to do as a "career". If Veronica does not change jobs, or if she does and then does not profit from this (permanent) part time position to further her career, then everyone can dump buckets of shame on her for dreaming, and only dreaming.

My research
My PhD work-life is grand. Jens, my current supervisor, is great. I simply have no complaints!

But... (There's always a "but".) But, my master's sucks. My topic was never properly constrained, nor was it properly thought out. This is my fault; although many others feel that these errors can be attributed to poor supervision. The consequence of these errors is twofold: one, I did too much work for a Master's in roughly the same period as one would normally do a Master's, which translates into poor research. Second, I completed an experiment, I had results, and I did not know what question I was trying to answer or why, exactly, I did the research.

I never constructed a simple question that I could have answered in depth; answered properly. The reviewers saw through my facade of a thesis, but took pity on me and approuved it anyway. These reviewers rightfully pointed out many of my worst mistakes. It was clear that the thesis was bad science - something that one burns. I am now stuck trying to fix these mistakes to Ed's, my Master's supervisor's, satisfaction. I think he lives under the illusion that my corrections are actually improving the thesis. You can't sculpt shit into gold. You can't fix a house of cards. Ed, all of this work is pointless. My thesis is crap. Ed, sign the damn paper; let me finish my master's and move on. As a professor at UVIc said, "A Master's, who cares?".

I taught myself how to do research from my mistakes; but once it was too late. Hindsight is indeed 20/20.

Quadra
I saw my brother and his family in Quadra this past weekend. Quadra is an island between Vancouver island and the mainland. I also met some family that live here - out west. Veronica and I had a great time.

Etc
The Universe can be seen as a computational device. It simulates in real-time the Universe, itself, and is arguably self-computing. But, is this possible? Isn't something required to start the computation - the big bang. Did the big-bang start itself? Or, perhaps there is a machine computing the Universe.

On a related note, we should be able to go back in "time" (the past has been computed), but we can't go forward in time because we need to compute the future of the entire Universe. The only device that can compute the Universe is itself.

On the other hand, scientific models may be wrong. I guess time will tell.

What a morning...

Caro and the three kids arrived yesterday; this morning was a little nuts. I was trying to work on my class project due next week. Between kids running around and asking questions, one broken glass, one missing cat and making breakfast, I didn't get much done. I'm having fun.


The puzzle and question (again):
You have twelve coins, one of which is a fake. It is a fake because it weighs more or less than the other eleven coins. (You do not know whether it weighs more, or less.) You have a very old balance that indicates, when coins are placed on each of the two platters, which set of coins is heavier. Can you find the fake coin in three weighings?

Answer:
Divide the 12 coins into 4 sets of 3 coins. We'll call these sets A, B, C and D. Weigh A and B. Without loss of generality, let us suppose that A and B differ in weight. Remove a coin from A, and from B; put these two coins aside. Take a coin from A and swap it with a coin from B. Reweigh the two (smaller) sets. If their weights are equal then the fake coin is one of the two you removed. If nothing changes then the fake coin is one of the coins you didn't touch. If the weight reading is reversed (lighter becomes heavier and heavier becomes lighter) then the fake coin is one of the swapped coins. For the pair of coins identified as containing a fake, weigh one of its coins against any know valid coin. If these two are of equal weight then the fake is other of the idenified pair, otherwise the fake is the coin (of the identified pair) that was just weighed.

You're actually reading this

People are actually reading the blog. Wow!

For all the Newfs still reading this, if you see my Master's supervisor tell him that he should work on my thesis. In a related note, I've delayed my entry date to UVic until September 1st.

In this blog, I reveal most of Veronica's dark personal secrets. I'll tell you the remaining secrets next time. This should make next week exciting. Although... Veronica never reads the blog. You're still reading; don't you have personal ethics? I'll give you the answer to the puzzle instead.

I was about to publish the answer to the Coin puzzle when I realized that I gave the wrong hint. The hint was supposed to be 4 piles of 3 coins. I guess, I'll publish the answer next week.

That makes this week's post even more boring than it was going to be. More concrete and irrefutable evidence that I should be doing this PhD while wrestling a polar bear. Now that, would make this blog exciting!

A hint

Rather than the answer, I'll give you a hint: 3 piles of 4 coins.

I MAY end up in Germany for 6 months. I guess Veronica can come too.

I encourage people to comment on the blog items. Just click on the word "comment" below each blog item.

Enough from Neil already!!!

I'm not really sure what to write in a blog. But I have to say that I am getting really annoyed with the fact that Neil won't stop bugging me that I will lose my place as social secretary if I don't keep in contact with everyone. Little does he know, that I have been sending emails to people, but perhaps doing this will keep him off my back!!!

So I was thinking that I would talk about our car adventures. More specifically the adventures of trying to arrange insurance and getting the plates on the car.....

This whole car thing, has been incredibly time consuming! This is because when you move to BC lots of things have to be done, and they must all be done within the first month, otherwise car insurance gets cancelled, and no insurance no driving.... which means the weekends could have the potential to be quite boring..... so the adventure of "getting BCed" began.

We needed to have an oil change, because driving across the country does rack up a few kms, as well as new tires, and a brake check.... which by the way turned out to be a brake change in the front!!! :) We found a garage thanks to one of my coworkers, and set off to have all of the repairs done. BUT, after all of this is done, there is also the requirement of having an inspection. Now on a sidenote, all of you have seen our car, I must say that newer cars shouldn't have to have this inspection done.... I mean the cars all come from the same plant in Asia somewhere, no matter where they ship them.... but because we had an "out of province" car... the inspection was required! So we then had that done..... and once all of that came to a close we had to have plates (yes with an s)... which I must add is hard to do when you only have place for one plate....... did I mention we had to go back to the garage a third time!!!!

So getting back to the insurance part of the story.... we were required to give our Newfoundland plate to the ICBC people. (apparently you aren't supposed to keep your old licence plate )... this turned out to be quite the task.... because when you live in NFLD, there is lots of salt in the air.... and salt makes things rust..... and I think most of us can see where this is going...... YES that is right... the plate decided to be rusted to the back of the car.... which meant that we couldn't remove it to give to the insurance people. They pulled out a box of tools, but to no avail the rust wasn't going to let us win!!!

So we decided, "if we have the right type of screwdriver, maybe it will work".... so we went to Wal-Marde to get a screwdriver.... and it so happens that the woman that was helping us was married to a man from a little island that we had just left.... yes, her husband was from The Rock..... coincidence, I think not.... them newfs b'y they're everywhere!!!!! :)
Anyways we ended up returning the screwdriver, because the f%$#*&@ screws would not come off.... the rust just didn't want to let go!!!! Needless to say we had to bring the plate back to ICBC the next day, after Neil fought with it at home!!!

But it was an interesting adventure... and now we have 2 plates on the car, and we are allowed to drive it and play bumper cars if we really want to!!!! :)

I'll try and write again soon!!!! :)

The Coins Puzzle

This post will probably appeal to Sparling and Luke. Maybe others will enjoy this too. I'll post the answer next week.

You have twelve coins, one of which is a fake. It is a fake because it weighs more or less than the other eleven coins. (You do not know whether it weighs more, or less.) You have a very old balance that indicates, when coins are placed on each of the two platters, which set of coins is heavier.

(easy) Can you find the fake coin?

(more difficult) Can you find the fake coin in three weighings?

If you cheat and find the answer on the Internet, shame on you!

The true beginning

Preamble
This is how our Newf experience and Trans-Canada Tour (TM) began. It began in Montreal on a Monday... (dream sequence)

The Drive
We left early one Monday morning. For those that are completely clueless, I left with a five foot one slave (she thinks she's taller) and a black fire alarm named Bam that most people would call a cat. At exactly 23 degrees Celcius when it's sunny and 25 degrees Celcius when it's cloudy the fire alarm goes off until the car returns below the offending temperature or the batteries run out. The drive to Fredericton was dull except for the occasional fire.

Fredericton is a small boring town. Walking the two main streets takes a grand total of two minutes. The Comfort Inn's exercise room consisted of a rat-wheel, a stationary bike and a bow-flex. My advise is: when in Fredericton don't eat their nachos.

The drive to North Sydney was a little more interesting.

North Sydney exists to service the ferry and a few local fishermen (women too, I don't think we say fisherperson yet). A beautiful little town. Strangers are discovered immediately, especially those guys with long, bright blond hair. It would seem that men's fashion in North Sydney is dark hair with a military cut. Cars stop to let you cross the street. People acknowledge each other with a curteous "hello". Their food is like their culture, quaint.

At five in the morning the alarm beeps timidly for fear of getting its arse kicked. The other half, for once, is up before me. She's excited. It's her fist time on a ferry - on a boat. We drive to the docks and straight through onto the ferry. Our fuzzy black fire alarm is silent. The smiling ferry worker informs us that we may bring the cat to the kennels or leave her in the car. We drag the cat out of the car and to the kennels. They reminded me of a German World War Two horror story. The cat was happy in the car. Each time we saw the ferry worker, he politely, with a smile, let us know that we were to exit at door E, closest to the car. The ferry is big but it's not Canada's Wonderland. (On a side note, if you park at Canada's Wonderland in the morning when the parking lot is empty remember your location - write it down. This can save you a whole heck of a lot of time. A full parking lot is much different to an empty one.)

As Nova Scotia faded into the sea, the seasickness set in. I've got the happy-as-hell-on-a-boat gene. The slave got sick. Slaves aren't very useful when they don't feel well. Fortunately for her, I've never seen any body of water calmer than it was; it could have been worse. And now for a few words of wisdom, if you feel seasick stay outside on deck rather than inside, keep your feet up, take the little pills your boyfriend's mom gave you and if all else fails find a brush and a bucket, and scrub the deck.

Fifteen hours on a small ferry is a long time. Marine Atlantic do a very good job of trying to make dull ferries more interesting. They play movie after movie after movie... They let you visit your pet. A cafeteria serves (horrible) food. But, at the end of the day (literally), only so much can be done. By the way, once you arrive in Newfoundland all of the Newfies are happier than hell to tell you that you should never ride on the long fifteen hour ferry.

We drove off the ferry at 10h30. I had now been up since five without sleeping. Besides some teenagers waving to every passing car, Argentia is void of all life. Consequently, we drove all the way to St-John's. A seasick passenger and a tired cat make for an incredibly long drive. I was comatose at around one in the morning.

The Apartment
Traveling with an animal requires a little more preparation. The cost-efficient B&B is a wondrous thing. Once you've deducted the cost of eating breakfast at a restaurant, a B&B is one of the least expensive options to the traveler. Now as I mentioned before, traveling with an animal requires a little more preparation because most B&Bs don't except pets. One has to make an obscene amount of phone calls in order to find a place to stay. While I was in the shower the slave went down to the lobby to use the pay phone. She announced upon her return that we would be on Spike's floor, of a B&B that wasn't far from the hotel. Spike's floor? It so happened that Spike was an alley cat that adopted this B&B. One day she was courageous enough to venture into the B&B at which point she didn't step outside for another two years. I guess being an alley cat is tough. Once Spike moved in the other cats moved up, up to the second floor. Spike doesn't share.

Before I continue let me tell you something about Bam. Bam is a good cat when she's not in a car that's 23 degrees Celcius when it's sunny and 25 degrees Celcius when it's cloudy. She sees the world in a odd way. Things that walk on two feet are slaves. Things that walk on four are enemies and must die. Things that have more than four legs are considered breakfast, lunch, dinner and a snack. Although, I think spiders taste funny so usually they're just squished.

The clash of the Titans, Spike vs Bam, was mostly avoided by leaving the black, furry, smoke in the room. Occasionally they would wage war from a distance with evil stares and disgraceful noises.

Informed that the Saturday paper was our best bet for apartment hunting, we waited. Saturday came. I went out early to get the paper and the slave got sick. We both did something constructive, right? Between bathroom visits she was kind enough to call some people. That same day, we visited an absolute dump and the hospital - not one and the same.

On Sunday, we moved to a cheaper B&B. The Cherylton happened to have cats too. To date, the only cat that has won in a fight of theatrics with Bam is Binx, even Spike left Bam alone. Binx lives in the Cherylton. He is a black cat with a tuff of white fur on his throat. What makes him unique are his extra toes (and a claw for each). He was so furious with Bam that he repeatedly rammed his head between our bedroom door and the door frame. Bam would have been shreded by Mr. Claws so we diligently kept them separated at all times.

We were exhausted. Our stomachs, dissatisfied with restaurant food, went on strike. Eating became uncomfortable.

Basement apartments are popular in St-John's and that's exactly what we found. To V's disgust it was recently painted white. Given the situation that wasn't going to change, however we were both grateful for our own space. Thus began our life in shopping malls. We migrated from strip mall to strip mall repurchasing the things that were too expensive to ship. We strolled down aisle after aisle of the grocery store loading our cart with the "basics". The only thing that's less expensive in St-John's than in Montreal is a DVD rental. (No longer true by the time we left.)

We purchased a rather nice looking second-hand sofa. Maybe I should call it a cushioned bench. It's the type of furniture that one would find in a hunting cottage. The exterior skeleton is made of pine bolted together in a way that would make any engineer proud. Cushions sit on top of the wood skeleton to prevent your but from going numb after five minutes; instead it takes an hour. In truth, the sofa is not that bad - carrying it into the living room was. The nice man, from which we bought the sofa, helped me destroy every doorway to the living room, so much for new paint. We removed two doors and a corner of the sofa's frame but finally the damn thing fit. Although I never really understood what he said due to his accent. (By the time we left, we both proudly spoke a little Newf.) I believe that we ended up with an extra "throne" of a chair due to his generosity. We never paid for this "throne" but we found space for it anyway. It's hard to argue with a man when you don't know what he's saying.

The humidity level in St-John's hovers around one hundred percent. For this reason we couldn't place the mattress we ordered directly on the floor. (On a side note, the funny thing about the mattress is that it had to be shipped from Montreal. We slept 12 nights on the floor waiting for it to arrive.) The decision was made to construct a wood frame upon which the mattress would be placed. When all you've got is a hammer everything else looks like a nail; so I bought some. We purchased some pre-cut pine and in order to save money a piece of MDF. It was cut into planks. Pine is a joy compared to MDF. I think MDF stands for Me Dumb Fool. We cushioned the sides of the frame to our toes' delight. The finished product looks like the inflated skirt of a hovercraft.

One last thing, I ended up at the hospital for a Tetanus shot. You known what they say, never two without three.

Veronica's first blog

I'm blogging on behalf of Veronica. She's making cinnamon pinwheels that I'm not allowed to eat. (Ladies, I'm far from an expert, but this NOT how you "convince" a guy to marry you.) I suppose at this point I'm supposed to talk about hair colours or clothes? Crap, this is difficult. Veronica did say this: "Jon-Jon is a schmuck for not answering my emails.".

Yours truly,
The guy with better hair than her.

Can't fall asleep, read this

As I mentioned in an email, pass this URL along to those interested. I know I haven't sent the blog's URL to everyone, for good reason. I'm missing several email addresses because Veronica won't share them. (She, by the way, will be fired as social secretary if she doesn't start blogging.)

I'll tell our Trans-Canada Tour (TM) story sometime in the upcoming weeks. But, you ask, what's happened since your arrival? Well you didn't ask but I'll tell you anyway - you few die-hard readers.

We moved Veronica's crap and my stuff into the apartment. Veronica managed to find a space for everything we own. I'm not sure how she manages to do this every time we move.

We rent our apartment from Stephen and Purnima. Within a week of arriving we attended Purnima's brother's birthday party. Within two weeks of arriving, Bam was given complete access to their house and we began watering their (indoor) plants while they visit the Caribbean. Not bad for two weeks.

School's going well. I received my first check. Research and classes? So far so good.

My first impressions of BC are:
- It's very green.
-You are guaranteed to smell Pot in public places.
-Some people talk slowly, maannn. (Possibly the people that scent public places.)

Last time

I attempted to start a blog when I first arrived in Newfoundland; and here we are, attempting to start a blog again. This time will be different. This time "we" are starting the blog not "I". You can infer from the last sentence whatever you'd like. So here's what I said last time:

The next thing I should probably explain is this, what you're reading. I was told to write, call and fly back. There are three problems. I don't like writing because I can't read what I've written. I don't like telephones. I can't explain why I don't like telephones but I don't. (On a side note, I like telephones that don't work so it could be that I don't like talking on the telephone.) I like flying, in an airplane, but I don't like paying for the tickets and that would be problem number three. So here I am typing. I have no idea what this typing will turn into.

What I wrote last time remains true. So here I am typing with no idea what this blog will turn into.

(Maybe Veronica will actually make this blog interesting.)

It begins...

Veronica and I decided that the easiest way to stay in touch with everyone is... a blog. So here it is. The blog will get better than this but, unfortunately, it will always be twice, if not three times, more boring than we are. (Many thanks to Jon for the title and Luke for the URL.)

And so it begins...