Nomadic Roots

Long before I became a nomad, I lived an immensely stable life in a quiet cul-de-sac in northwest Calgary. My mother stayed home with us while we were growing up (something I will be eternally thankful and proud of her for), and many of my early memories simply revolved around waiting with my sisters near the front window for my dad to come home from work, on his bike, always promptly at 4:30 pm. My mom would always have dinner waiting, it was always made from scratch, and life was pretty good.


I lived in the same house for 21 years, and then my youngest sister and I moved out together into an awesome little rental suite. Things were still stable; we only moved a mere seven blocks away from ‘home’, and the fact that my sister was my roommate lent a comforting sense of continuity to the whole experience. Marty and I later lived in that same rental suite together, until July 2004, when the first seeds of nomad-ism began to take root.


Earlier on, I had had the ‘brilliant’ idea to apply for grad school, and I eventually was accepted to study at Concordia University in Montreal. (And since people seem to look so crestfallen when I say ‘Concordia’ and not ‘McGill’, I’ll say here that I could have studied at McGill—I was accepted and everything—but the über-crappy and laughably unprofessional folding job of my acceptance letter turned me against it. For real. It looked more like the beginning of a paper airplane than a regular tri-fold letter. Just saying.) Anyway, come the end of June, Marty and I prepared for a trek to Alaska and readied our belongings for Montreal.


For me, a nomadic lifestyle didn’t unfold slowly and gently like a new spring blossom. No, once those first seeds of wandering had been planted, they raged like a weed inside me—large, stubborn, and resilient. Six weeks were spent exploring the rugged terrain of Alaska, then after a week to regroup in Calgary, we were off to Montreal. Montreal, alas, didn’t agree with either of us, so very quickly we hit the road back to Calgary and haphazardly arranged for me to study at the U of C instead. It was there, in our rush to find an apartment before I started school (um, in a day!), that the seeds of the nomadic lifestyle were to rage out of control, unchecked, for 2 full years…


Let me introduce now what I hope will become a regular segment in the ex-nomad blog: I’d like to call it You Can’t Make This Shit Up.




Yes, this is our old apartment. There were two main staircases in the building, and both of them were crammed underneath with crap like this.


And I wonder why I hit the ground running…

Mission: Accomplished

I’ll start off by apologizing for the reference to Mr. Asshat Cruise. Just what you need for my first post back, eh? Well, dear readers, I’m here to tell you that he can’t be all that bad. I didn’t believe it myself until fate intervened and blessed us with the same wedding song. Yes, it’s true— but I guess that’s what we get for having our kayaking guide plan our wedding for us! (He only knew how to sing the Top Gun and Dirty Dancing soundtracks…)

Anywho, enough with T. Cruise. More importantly: we made it! My body is still vibrating from the sixteen or so hours in the van yesterday, but we are safe and sound, and the best news is: the mural is gone!

The drive to Calgary was pretty nerve-wracking. I have an overactive imagination at the best of times, but the whole way there, I had horrible thoughts about the mural dying a slow and painful death. In one scenario, the ferry would groan and sink, and we’d be clinging to a mural panel to stay afloat, a la Leonardo DiCaprio in Titanic (ooooh, Leo!). In another, a nasty collision with a semi truck would crack the mural like a melon (never mind probably killing us instantly—it’s the mural I was more worried about, though!) It didn’t help that the mural was coated with milky stains due to an unfortunate varnish mix-up; basically, the whole way there, we didn’t know if we could salvage it, or if Marty would have to do the whole thing over (NNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! That would be even worse than anything my doom-plagued imagination could conjure up!)

Well, the weather cooperated on the highways and a little bit of ammonia went a long way to clear up the face of the mural. We installed it on Saturday, and now we can officially be done with it forever. (That also means I won’t ever write about it again, so we can all breathe a sigh of relief- huzzah!)

Otherwise, the visit to Calgary was pretty rushed. We visited with Marty’s parents, my dad, sister, and cat (Nigel!), and a few of our friends over tea. We hit up some of our favourite places—Cadence and the Diner Deluxe-- and went to our storage to fetch some more essentials. I’m pleased to say that we now have a bed and a couch—yeah, we can now curl our asses into the lap of luxury!

Anyway, I’m still getting re-acclimatized to our life on the coast and catching up on e-mails and blog reads. Tune in tomorrow for another update and the unveiling of a new blog feature!

A Rooster by any other name...

Scanning over my previous posts, I came to the startling realization that I might have created the impression that my knitting collection only consists of a tacky hot pink apron… Allow me to clarify. I would never, in a million years, want to be known only as the woman with the hot pink apron! (That, or as a bag lady. Or a cat lady.)

Since showing up at my first ever KnitClub meeting, knitting a plain old dishcloth in plain old Bernat Cotton yarn (and feeling horrifically silly, I might add), my knitting has improved in leaps and bounds. I’m still a bit on the inexperienced side when it comes to things like sweaters and Fair Isle (my way too big and tent-ish Tubey sweater can attest to that), but overall, I can say with some degree of confidence that my knitting doesn’t suck.

One of my good friends celebrated her birthday a few days ago, so I suppose it’s only fitting that in my knitting defense, I feature some of my gift knitting for her in today’s post.

My friend has the sweetest one-year-old baby boy. On one of our altogether infrequent visits together, we went to return some cutesy farm animal wall hangings that she had decided not to put up in his room. Her boy may be only one year old, but he’s no baby! Anyway, when I happened across the patterns for Chinese Zodiac symbols in Knitty, I thought it would be perfect to knit up his zodiac symbol—Rooster—and felt it into a wall hanging. It would be sophisticated and symbolic, and it would be reflective of their cultural heritage. That was the plan, anyway…

I quickly knit up the Rooster symbol and felted it up.

Just when I was getting ready to mail it, though, an alarming thought crossed my mind: was I sure that this was the Chinese symbol for Rooster? Flashes of Britney Spears tattooing herself with the Chinese symbol for 'strange' when she really wanted 'mysterious' crossed my mind... I didn't want to end up delivering the equivalent of gibberish to this special child. (Nor did I want to have any more connections to B. Spears-- it's bad enough that we were born in the same year! Oh, who am I kidding? I'm a Slave 4 Britney!)

Well, it was a good thing I checked. The Knitty pattern featured the Japanese symbols for the Chinese zodiac signs. No good.

I went back to the internet, found the appropriate Chinese symbol, graphed it out and knitted it up.

Lesson learned: When you’re trying to be meaningful and symbolic, it’s best to make sure you’re representing the right culture… (Or you can tattoo yourself with Kabbalah symbols backwards... but who am I to judge?)

Anyway, my friend’s boy now has his sophisticated and actually symbolic wall hanging above his crib, and I’ve got the leftover one in my meditation corner (Luckily, I happen to be a Rooster, too!) When I get back from Calgary, I’ll post some other non-hot-pink knitting projects. I promise there’s more than one…

Cross Your Fingers!

Well, we're taking the plunge tomorrow morning and trying to head back to Calgary for a few days. (I put the fire drill photo in because I'm more than a bit alarmed at the whole prospect...)


The plan is to wake up at 5-ish, make our way to the ferry and then drive all the way back to Alberta! Cross your fingers for good weather, good highway conditions (i.e. no giant avalanche warnings or closures like there are now!), a van that runs well, and an easy installation of the mural-- I know it's a lot to ask for, but we'd appreciate it!


I'll talk to you soon!
Take care, all.


*UPDATE*: The highway is still closed because of a giant avalanche, so we'll have to try again tomorrow. Sigh.

Happy New Year!

Well, the HQ (Housewife Quotient) has dropped drastically at Chez Ex-Nomad. We’ve now suffered through a number of dubious meals and have let the dishes pile up in the sink, and I’ve even spent (much) more time watching Sports Plays of the Year than I have cleaning the bathroom or doing the laundry. Well, it had to happen sooner or later, and what better time than at the crossroads between two years?


I’m such a sucker for countdowns of all kinds, but I have a particular weakness for the year-end variety… Any list—Memorable Moments, Music Videos, NHL Goals, David Letterman, Celebrity Stories—I’ll watch it and probably like it. (And now that we finally have a TV, this is much easier to do.) Aside from the nostalgia brought about by watching Corey Hart heat up the Guilty Pleasures chart, the end of the year also inevitably invites reflection on my end: how could the previous year be characterized, and what do I hope for in the new year?


Sadly, 2006 was distinguished in many ways by death, illness, and struggle. I lost my dearest Baba, Tyler Johnson—an amazing coworker, BK—a dear friend, a pregnancy, and of course my soul while I finished up my master’s program. Relatives, children, and friends of friends passed on, became seriously ill, or suffered in ways that made the year difficult to bear. However, 2006 was also a year of promise and new beginnings: I finished the thesis and officially became Master Dana; I joined the beloved Calgary KnitClub and learned how to knit more than just dishcloths; I went on a (belated and extended) honeymoon to the Czech Republic and got to visit places I had only ever dreamed about before; I saw Madonna in concert, fulfilling one of my secret lifelong fantasies; and I moved to Victoria with Marty, setting in motion the life course we had planned for ourselves.


I’ve never been big on making New Year’s Resolutions, but this year, I’m taking a big step and resolving to set some! Since a new year is, in many ways, like a new partnership, I’ve decided to structure my resolutions around the old wedding adage: something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue.


Something Old


I resolve to be more cognizant of the food I put into my body. I would like 2007 to be the year when I finally treat my body more like a proverbial temple than a plain old trash can.


Something New


I resolve to learn Czech! I got a book on e-bay, so all I need is a little determination to start conversing with Marty in his native tongue!


Something Borrowed


Adopting Crafty Bird’s mantra (which I think she, in turn, borrowed from somebody else—can’t find the exact link right now, though), I resolve to make an effort to use what I have before enhancing my already unwieldy stashes.


Something (out of the) Blue


I resolve to practice more random acts of kindness and giving. Nothing feels quite as good as opening up your mailbox to find a little surprise in the midst of all those bills! Here’s how you can help me out, dear readers: please e-mail me your name and mailing address, and I will send out a small surprise some time between now and the end of the year! Just like that! Please don’t be shy—knit clubbers, former schoolmates, coworkers, mystery blog readers that I haven’t yet had the pleasure to meet face-to-face, and everyone in between—I expect to see your names in my inbox!



Well, Happy New Year, everyone! Thanks in advance for keeping me accountable to my resolutions-- I’ll talk to you all again soon!