Back to Ontario

It seems that many a peeps has been disappointed by my lack of posts lately. Since I am laid up with a bad back today I’ve decided to give my fans what they ask for: A burst of nothing but Mau! Oh happy day!

Before I begin though, I’d like to share a funny/sad fact. I’m truly losing the skills I learned in Quebec. Yesterday, I realized that I was no longer making typos on my English keyboard. Yup. When I first moved back to Ontario, I was constantly fumbling at typing – inserting the wrong character here and there. I’m pleased that I don’t have to stop, scratch my head and wonder, “Where the hell is the proper key?” But it’s also kinda sad.

Anyways, there are a few key things I’d like to write down before I forget because, damn, they were funnier than hell when I moved back to Ontario.

• During my first weekend here, my friend Shruthi came to visit. When she finally arrived, she looked very hesitant when she knocked on the door. It turns out that right before she came to my apartment (I live on the second floor of a house), she accidentally went to the wrong house. How the hell is that possible? Well, I live on Ellis Avenue. She went to my house number on Ellis Crescent, which is right down the street. When she arrived there, she knocked on the door and asked for Maureen… And was escorted to the little 90-something-year-old Maureen who happened to live there. Yup, I have a senior-citizen twin living down the street from me. Whoops! Needless to say, when friends come to visit now, I emphasize that they visit Ellis Avenue, not Crescent.
• On my first day of work at RIM, my manager took me around and introduced me to a zillion people. I was overwhelmed with names and faces, but one stood out. I interrupted my manager and asked the guy, “Wait, don’t I know you from Ottawa?” It turns out that I didn’t know him (which was a relief, because I kept thinking, “I thought his name was Dave! Not Greg!). Nope. I know his twin brother. Hell, I went to SCHOOL with his brother. What are the chances?! For my first month of work, whenever I heard the guy’s voice, I kept wanting to make sarcastic and inappropriate remarks, but then I’d remind myself, “Wait a second Mau, you don’t know him well enough to say that.”
• On my second day of work, I decided to go explore the building on my own a bit. I visited one of the kitchens, didn’t recognize anyone and was about to leave when some guy randomly asks me, “Hey, are you Melanie’s sister?” I was like, “Who the hell is this random person, and how does he know who I am?!” It turns out that he’s one of my sister’s patients, and they had been gossiping about me. When he heard there was a new Tech Writer in his building, and heard my sister’s description of me (hmm, wonder what she said?) he put two and two together.

One of the other big changes in my life since moving is that I have now joined the ranks of automobile owners. That’s right. I got me a car! That being said, it was not a simple or easy process.

Because I’m vehicle incompetent, I enlisted my father’s aid in car shopping. He gave me the task of test driving a few cars before he came, so that I’d be familiar with the different feels of them. Well zomg. The day I arranged to do some test drives, it was raining. And I don’t like driving at the best of times. However, I was more afraid of my father’s reaction than of driving, so I forced myself to go out. I tested a Nissan Versa and a Mazda 7 Hatchback (which I was drooling over).

The moment I drove out of the parking lot in the Mazda 7, I was stressing out madly. I could NOT figure out what was going on, but it kept losing all power (not stalling, but the engine would have absolutely no oomph). I wasn’t even sure if the damned thing was an automatic or standard, because the shifter looked like a zig-zagged automatic and nothing I’d ever seen before. I made it all the way down the street before I turned back and pleaded for help from the salesman. It turned out that the car had the option to drive like an automatic OR a manual, and I had accidentally put it in manual mode. Umm, oops?

The day we went car shopping for real, also turned out to be a blizzard. How lovely! My dad and I braved the highways to go to Stratford, where I test drove a multitude of vehicles. (I was hell bent on finding something, just so I could get this ordeal over with.) However, we finally gave up and returned to KW. By the time we visited a few other lots with no luck (but many more test drives – each with me, white-knuckled behind the wheel) I was ready to give up. (Did I mention that there was one car where neither my dad nor I could figure out how to turn off the damned windshield wipers?)

Before we called it quits, my dad and I decided to visit one last random dealership. And that my friends, is where I met the love of my life. The most hilarious car dealer came out and introduced us to a black 2009 Kia Rio5. It was like at first sight, admiration at the mention of the price, and adoration after I slid behind the wheel. While test driving, I told my dad, “Dad, I want this car.” He started chattering about how we could look at others, etc. and I interrupted him again with, “No. Dad, I WANT this car.”

That, ladies and gentlemen, is how I came to be the proud owner of Utjabanish, which means “car” in Cree. (I briefly contemplated naming it “The Dark Knight/Knave” but this stuck.) My legs have practically atrophied from lack of use since I got it. And I swear, the first time I went grocery shopping, I could hear heavenly choirs singing. I never realized what freedom could be had with a vehicle. I no longer have to consider the weight of the stuff I’m buying in case I have to lug it home. I don’t have to plan my trips around bus times, etc.

Another… Interesting (I use this word hesitantly) experience I had was right before Christmas. My sister texted me, “Want to see Hendel’s Messiah?” A quick Youtube search revelead that I liked that Christmas/Christian song so I said sure. Thank God there are gun laws in Canada because by the end of that night, both Steve and I were ready to put a bullet through either our own heads, or my sister’s. It was long. It was boring. And at the crux of the show, my sister sent me into a massive, MASSIVE giggle fit that had my crying with the effort of containing myself. And at the end of the show, my seat neighbour, a former member of the choir, asked me, “So, did you enjoy the show?” I was beyond impressed with my ability to lie through my teeth and assure him, “It was absolutely lovely!”

That’s it for now folks. It’s time to go put a hot water bottle on my back and self-medicate with cookies. Until next time!