the move west: bonus track

If you are following along, you might want to check comments, too. Allan often has interesting notes that he adds as comments. From yesterday:

So we passed the geographical centre of Canada today. Tomorrow morning (Friday), we will pass the halfway point in distance on the trip. That will be roughly in Fleming, a small town about 50 km across the border into Saskatchewan.

The deer carcass was amazing. Diego was riveted to a big clump of fur in the grass. Once I saw a few clumps of fur, I realized they were everywhere. They had not been snowed on, so the deer had probably not been there more than a day. I did not see anything resembling a skull, but there was a bottom-half of a leg that looked untouched. Seeing that a few hours after the wolf was pretty cool.

I love looking at maps and finding interesting town names. Here are a few from Manitoba: Overflowing River, Brokenhead, Tolstoi, Snowflake, Altamont. ... I found many more cool names in Saskatchewan, which I should save for tomorrow. Sneak peek: Laura, Allan.

Distance report:
Monday: Mississauga to Sudbury: 388.7 km / 241.5 miles
Tuesday: Sudbury to Wawa: 551.3 km / 342.5 miles
Wednesday: Wawa to Ignace: 744.2 km / 462.4 miles
Thursday: Ignace to Brandon: 672.2 km / 417.6 miles
TOTAL TO DATE: 2356.4 km / 1464.1 miles

Also in comments, reaction to "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald" -- like a throwback to the early wmtc. Nice.

the move west: day four: ignace ontario to brandon manitoba

We are finally out of Ontario! We had a lovely and eventful day -- including a visit with a friend and a wolf sighting!

We got up and ready very early this morning, thanks to some insomnia on my part. Too much salt plus vodka before bed equals Laura doesn't sleep well. It's not like I don't know that. I just sometimes lack the discipline to do what I should.

It was decidedly less freezing today, with a low of only -10 C and a high of +2. I scouted out a spot for breakfast, about an hour down the road (the TCH) in the town of Dryden. Allan got us tea and coffee and muffins so my head wouldn't explode during that hour. The local chain is Robin's Donuts. We saw them all through northern Ontario, too. The muffins are really dense and seem to be whole grain. The glazed donuts give you a toothache just by looking at them. I'm not into donuts, so I can't tell you how they compare to Tim's or Krispy Kremes.

Right before we left Ignace, Allan remembered that Diego had been looking for something under the bed. He brought the flashlight in from the car... and found "planet" -- Tala's favourite comfort toy. Diego has inherited it, but during Tala's lifetime, he was not allowed to play with it. We would have been heartsick to realize it was gone.

In Dryden, the Patricia Inn Family Restaurant served a terrific diner breakfast, with a choice of home fries (cubed) or hash browns (shredded) potatoes, and fantastic omelets, plus friendly servers. These diners all have desserts that have gone out of fashion elsewhere. I may just have to have some lemon meringue pie before this trip is done.

After breakfast, we were motoring down the highway, still hilly and wooded at that point. As we came down a hill, I saw an animal loping across the road. I thought it was a coyote, but as we slowed down and got closer, I thought... could that be a wolf? It crossed the highway and then continued down a slope. As we drove by, I got a very clear look at its face: it was a Grey Wolf. My heart soared. If you read wmtc, you may know I am fascinated by wolves -- by all wild canids, but especially wolves, the most majestic animals on earth, the princes of nature. I've seen wolves in wolf centres, but the chances of spotting one by chance in North America is very slim. I was thrilled.

We started listening to an audiobook today. I normally can't do audio -- I can't concentrate -- but I thought I would try again on this trip, choosing something a little less challenging. I've been reading Donald Westlake's Dortmunder novels, comic crime capers that are so funny and entertaining. Allan also loves Westlake -- he reads the Parker novels -- so this is something we would both enjoy. I found two Dortmunders on audio. We also have a podcast Allan wants to hear, and a CBC radio documentary about George Orwell. I'm finding I can mostly listen to the book, but only as a passenger. I can't really drive and listen at the same time. I'm not sure this is going to work. But we'll keep trying.

We soon crossed into Manitoba; neither of us has been in this province before. Almost immediately, the terrain flattened and the road straightened. You can see forever.

One time when we stopped for Diego, Allan came hurrying back to the car to get the camera. When he returned, he told me there was a carcass of a deer in the woods, partially eaten. He saw clumps of hair from a deer all along the embankment, so we speculated that the animal may have been hit by a vehicle, then dragged into the woods by enterprising coyotes.

Our friend in Winnipeg texted us a link to the marker for the longitudinal centre of Canada. We stopped for a couple of pictures. As you can see, I'm not attempting a photo journal of our trip, but this was just too good to pass up.

Soon after that, we ran into M and the truck at a gas stop. He asked if we had pulled off the road to see a dead animal! Maybe our car is bugged.

In Winnipeg, we found our way to a Tim Hortons, and met J and J there. I know J through the War Resisters Support Campaign. They are both Quakers, and have lived on Vancouver Island, among other places. I learned that one of the Js is originally from the US, and emigrated to Canada the same time we did. It was wonderful to see them -- really a highlight of the trip. Plus they gave us a big batch of homemade cookies. (I know there's a lot of food in these posts!)

After Winnipeg, we continued down the highway two more hours to the town of Brandon. I fell asleep during a chapter of Dortmunder. (I wasn't driving!)

In Brandon, we're at another Super 8, this one crazy inexpensive and quite nice. Once we got Diego situated, we went next door to a Smitty's for dinner, this time with M. Smitty's is something like a less obnoxious Denny's. I had a cobb salad and my daily glass of red wine.

Today we did 670 kilometres, down from yesterday's peak of 706. From now on, we'll have a little less driving every day -- but that's deceptive, as one leg is through the mountains.

Thanks for reading!

the move west: day three: wawa to ignace

Yesterday was notable for several reasons.

We've made it to the Central time zone.

We've never been here before -- once we passed Kakabeka Falls, we're further west than we've driven in Canada.

This is the first night of five provinces in five days, something Allan loves, and I also think is cool.

And it didn't snow!

From Sudbury to Wawa was 488 kilometres and it was a long, grueling day. Yesterday we drove 706 kilometres and it was so much easier. Yesterday was also the longest planned leg of the whole trip. From now on the driving will be a little less each day.

We started the day with a big breakfast at North of 17, the same place we had dinner the previous night. This excellent breakfast included toast made from homemade bread. As I said, the diner of my dreams.

I was getting a bit stressed about the time. I woke up at 6:00, got Allan up at 7:00, yet somehow we were getting on the road close to 10. I was worried that we'd be driving at night again. A and M reassured me: a portion of every day's drive will be in darkness, and that's just the way it is. The daylight hours are short, and we can't start early enough to stop before dusk. If we did, we'd be driving in the dark anyway -- in the morning. This made me feel much better. One more thing to let go of.

The weather was sunny and cold again, emphasis on the cold. The windchill was -30 C (-22 F). For weeks I've been saying that on this trip, I'll go for a good walk with Diego every morning, and we'll walk him together every evening. It never occurred to be it might be too cold for that! Diego is getting a little antsy from lack of exercise, but there's not much we can do about it right now. It is just too damn cold. (PS: it's +8 C in Port Hardy right now.)

The first part of the drive was really beautiful, with amazing views of Lake Superior, and surrounded by snow-covered evergreens. The road was completely clear -- in fact, as soon as it started to snow the day before, there were plows out -- and seemed newly paved. We switched driving a few times and "made good time," as the saying goes. Somehow we can't find our ice scraper, so when we stopped for gas, I picked one up along with three (small) bags of chips, which became our lunch. Not good. I don't need a giant salt infusion in the middle of the day.

Speaking of which, we've had some discussion about what to do about eating on the road. M would prefer we stop at a supermarket, buy food to take with us, to save money and be more self-sufficient. Allan and I will sometimes do that on road trips, but on this trip, that just feels like too much work, and kind of unpleasant. We can't eat outside (obviously) so that means eating in the car. How much money or time would we really save? Allan and I agree that we don't want to go to a restaurant and spend an hour on lunch, but we could pop into a Tim's or something similar. With everything this move is costing us, spending a few more dollars on food is fine. Right now convenience and a bit of comfort are more important than economizing to that extent.

Around Thunder Bay, the highway widens and mostly straightens out, and we were able to drive faster. I'm using cruise control, hoping that will allow me to drive more without pain. So far, so good. Oh yes, speaking of pain, my finger hurts, and likely will for a long time -- but luckily it's on my left hand.

Somewhere west of Thunder Bay but before our planned stop, we passed a plaque marking the beginning of the Central time zone. I was driving, so Allan changed the clock in the car, and was very happy of suddenly "gaining" an hour.

We made it to the Westwood Motel in Ignace, Ontario, about ten minutes after M pulled in with the truck. It's a bit of a dump, but it's clean, the bed is comfy, the pillows are fluffy, and there's plenty of room for Diego's crate. We went around the corner to the Mystic Bar and Grill for dinner. M declined again, and picked up something to microwave in his room. I think at the end of a long day, he feels this is more relaxing. Me, when we stop for the night, I am going to a restaurant, eating dinner, and having a glass of wine. Non-negotiable!

When we did our last-minute packing, I found an almost-full bottle of vodka in the freezer, and we still had a carton of orange-peach-mango juice. So after dinner, M came to our room, we busted out the little plastic motel cups, and I tended bar. We had a good time... and then totally crashed. I very nearly slept in my clothes; it just seemed like too much work to do anything else. Allan kind of shamed me into being more civilized.

Today, Manitoba! We've never seen the prairies, and despite everyone saying there's nothing to see, it's a new landscape and we're looking forward to it. We're also hoping to connect with a friend in Winnipeg, on our way to Brandon.

the move west: day two: sudbury to wawa

I've retitled the last two posts. Original day one is now day zero, and day one is a new (different) post. I won't attempt to explain what I was thinking, but it's fixed now.

Yesterday morning we woke up to a bright blue sky and freezing cold weather. It was -17 C with a windchill of -27 C. Everyone at the motel was talking about how cold it was. I was thrilled because it was sunny and bright. Who cares how cold it is when we're driving all day?

We got off to a slow start, with so much of what we needed in the truck, including the damn netbook adapter (it wouldn't boot up without it), and various other delays. We thought that was fine because we had only 480 kilometres planned, so we assumed the whole trip would be in daylight. Ha!

Allan and M went off on another M quest, while I hammered away at the keyboard. About 45 later, when I hit publish, the post disappeared. So now I have no post and I've delayed us for nothing. Yay.

We finally hit the road around 11:00, getting the Trans Canada Highway in Sudbury, west towards Sault Ste Marie and beyond. It was very scenic, the road winding through snow-covered fields and evergreens, small towns, and frozen rivers. We stopped a few times for Diego and to pick up caffeine in various forms. Just a few stops here and there, no lunch break or anything substantial, yet somehow, it was growing dark and we were still 300 kilometres from our destination. Which would be less than three hours on a fast highway, but following Lake Superior from The Soo to Thunder Bay is decidedly not a fast highway. We knew this -- we just drove the damn thing in September! -- but that was in daylight. And dry weather.

As soon as it gets dark, it also starts to snow. And here we are again on a completely dark country road in the snow! We said we weren't going to do this again, and we're doing it again on the very next night. Plus this time the road is winding and hilly, and huge logging trucks are flying by, too. I had been driving, but once the snow started, we switched. It was stressful enough as a passenger. No way I could drive in that. Allan is great that way, though -- nerves of steel when it comes to driving.

The snow was coming down hard. During the day, it's a beautiful scenic drive. At night, in the snow, a painful crawl. Much of the time we were doing 40 or 50 kms/hour, just trying to stay on the road.

We had no phone signal for much of the time, so I had no idea how M was doing. When I reached him, he was already in the motel! He had seen a car in a ditch with highway patrol people and was very relieved to learn it wasn't us.

We pulled in to the Best Northern Motel and Restaurant at around 7:00, tired and hungry, but very happy to be there. Except for the big sign that said RESTAURANT CLOSED FOR SEASON. When I checked in, I asked, "So there's no restaurant right now?" The woman said, "There's a restaurant, but it's closed for winter." Ah yes, very helpful. To be fair, she gave me a dog bowl with the hotel logo on it, for use in the room.

She said two restaurants in Wawa would still be open -- if we hurried. We quickly got stuff in the room, Allan set up Diego's crate, and we set out in the snow, about 6 inches by then, and still coming down. M was done for the night, so we took his order, hoping we'd find something.

In Wawa we saw a Tim Hortons (of course) and a Subway, so we had a last resort. The two restaurants were side by side. The Embassy looked more promising, but they were closing early: "It's a slow night".

North of 17 was like the diner of my dreams. The server was an older woman who seemed to want to feed us. I ordered my favourite comfort food: hot turkey sandwich with mashed potatoes and gravy. I hadn't had that in eons. Real roast turkey, homemade gravy, and a $6 glass of red wine, a huge glass that costs $19.50 at Canyon Creek. The whole thing was heavenly.

We tried not to order dessert, but since we were taking food back for M, the server suggested she box up dessert as well. Who were we to refuse.

When we got back to the room, Diego was calm and happy. I don't know if he was barking while we were gone, but I've decided not to worry about it. I hear other people's TVs, they might have to hear my dog.

the move west: day one: sauga to sudbury

I tried to post this earlier today but had some annoying technical difficulties. Truth be told, I had organizational difficulties: the AC adapter for the netbook was in the truck. Later I wrote in the Deluxe Hamburger in Sudb‌ury... then blogger crashed. Then I drafted it again in the car. Oy.

Yesterday was a long, tiring day, but in the end, it was successful. We are happy!

The movers arrived right on time, which was impressive... then things quickly went downhll. They may have been trying to set a speed record. Our stuff was being tossed and piled and generally thrown about. It was kind of scary! It doesn't help that we live(d) on the 19th floor, the apartment furthest from the elevator, so the elevator has to be packed and unpacked, too. So many opportunities for disaster. Allan and M were able to corral the guys a bit, and in the end, we hope it was better than it looked.

It was a complicated process. We drive a very small car with minimal truck space, and Diego takes up the whole back seat. This means we need many things to be accessible, packed in the back of the truck. I used green painter's tape to label many things -- but it still needed explanation. Plus we will be getting into Port Hardy at night, and a crew will be (we hope) arriving the next day to unload the truck. This mkeans we have to sleep one night in an empty house -- which means that the mattress and futon must be accessible, too. It's complicated! Plus there was last-minute packing to do, and we had to keep Diego out of the way. It was complicated!

I left at one point to get refunds for our Presto cards (so glad Allan remembered that!) and Allan and M went out to do some errands, which included another M obsession.

The movers finally left late in the day, then we packed up our road trip needs. I picked up some Subway -- we hadn't eaten all day -- Allan returned our keys and whatnot, and were about to set out on the road. But what would a travel story of mine be without at least one fall?

It was the perfect storm. A storm named Diego. I wasn't using his harness/halti/collar combo that gives me control over him. I was holding the leash loosely around my wrist. I was putting stuff in the trunk, not paying attentionto him. And a little dog surprised him. All the elements in place, ready for disaster. Suddenly my arm is jerked violently, the leash burns through my hand, and I fall in slow motion onto my hand, my knee, and my ankle. But mostly my hand. When I got up, Diego was barking in the face of a small dog who is giving it right back to him.

Oh my god my hand. You know I have arthritis in my hands, plus fibromyalgia makes things hurt all out of proportion -- both in intensity and duration. I was in dire pain for close to two hours. M gave me a painkiller, which helped a lot, but also meant I couldn't drive. Poor Allan has worked his three 12-hour days, with zero rest, and an incredibly busy, stressful day... and now he has to drive all the way to Sudbury, at night. Yuck.

[An aside for the locals. On the way out of town, we missed the 401/427 split and were on the 427 north. M was still following us in the truck, and wouldn't have good directions until we got on the 400, the route north. Oh shit, how the hell do you get from the 427 to the 401 if you've missed the split? Allan reads a road sign -- 409, does that help? -- just as I see the 409 on Maps. The 409! It apparently exists only to link the 427 North to the 401 East!  Whoo hoo! I learn this exactly when I need it -- and now I'll never need it again.]

So we got on the 400 North at about 7:00 pm, and we were happy. Cue a helpful reader explaining that you shouldn't drive on country roads at night, because of animals. Big animals that, if hit, can cause serious or even fatal accidents. We know. We agree. But sometimes it must be done. And this was one of those times. It was (we hope) the only leg of this road trip to be driven at night.

At some point it started to snow. a lot. It was really hard to see, very tiring. There were very few cars on the road, and when some uncoming traffic appeared we discovered that visibility in snow is much improved with your high-beams off. Go figure. Also: hooray for new snow tires! We never had them in Mississauga.

For this trip, I did a lot of emergency preparedness. I was all kinds of pleased with myself, as we tend to be pretty casual about a lot of things most Canadians consider necessary. So it's snowing and we're driving on a completely dark, unlit road, and I realize 100% of the emergency gear was in the truck. We didn't even have our warm jackets in the car! Do not be alarmed, I was very amused.

Despite the snow and the dark, Allan and I had a great drive to Sudbury, talking about everything in the world, occasionally checking in with M in the truck. We pulled into the Super 8 Sudbury around 11:30 pm.

Once in the room with a shit-ton of stuff, we realized that we were disorganized, bringing in many things we didn't need and forgetting many things we needed. I had organized what was needed on the trip, and what we needed access to in the back of the truck. But I had not considered what we'd want in the car or in the hotel room every night. One more thing to fix in the morning.

My finger was hurting again; it will probably hurt for weeks or months. Not to be undone, Allan misjudged a step and fell off the back of the truck. It sounded horrible, but he appears to have escaped without lasting damage.

When I was booking rooms for this trip, Super 8 had a deal to stay two nights and get the third night free. It sounded worth a shot. The one in Sudbury was pretty nice for a budget motel -- clean, bright, and new looking. You can see where they cut corners -- a better hotel would have retired those threadbare towels -- but it was perfectly adequate for one night. And the whole chain is pet-friendly.

One of the many items kept in the back of the truck is Diego's crate. We're hoping it will help if he has to be alone in unfamiliar surroundings. We haven't used the crate since we first adopted him, but he was crated overnight any time he stayed in Dogtopia. Diego doesn't have separation anxiety, thank dog, but he does like to bark. And he doesn't use his indoor voice.

the move west: day zero

This is it! Our last day in Mississauga.

Saturday morning I picked up the car from Canadian Tire -- our first set of snow tires! Then I spent the day driving around doing errands. I was super lucky to have dinner with two good friends who couldn't make it to the pub night. I've been binging on pho and dim sum... knowing this is something I'll miss in our small town.

Yesterday, Sunday, I picked up my brother at the airport; he took the redeye in from Oregon via L.A. A few hours later, we dropped Allan at the GO bus for his last day of work in Toronto, then M and I went to pick up the truck. It's the largest U-Haul there is -- we can only make one trip! Then I spent the day packing.

(Over the last two weeks, we hired two friends to pack the apartment. Allan did some, especially the jungle that is his office, but was mostly overloaded by errands and chores. Last week he said he couldn't wait to go to work -- to relax.)

Several people have very kindly asked how Diego is doing amid the boxes and bubble wrap. We're so lucky: he's super chill. We've had dogs who would be depressed or anxious about all the commotion, but not the Big Boy. Wherever you plop down his bed, that's his new place to sleep. Any friendly human to drool on and get attention from, that's his new best friend.

A word about M. My brother is eight years older than me. Yesterday -- after spending the night in airports and on planes, through two flights and three time zones -- he never stopped moving. The man is retired, and still, no one can keep up with him. He claims he has slowed down, but I see no evidence to back that up.

We never did get that smoked salmon in Sydney. The current obsession is getting gas at Costco -- in Barrie. To be fair, this gas is $0.20/litre cheaper than what's around here, and $0.10 cheaper than anything in the Barrie area. And Barrie is on the way.

Me, I'd fill up at the nearest Petro Canada to earn points. Plus, full fairness disclosure: I am obsessed with points. M is not the only obsessive at the party. But hey, if Costco gas is the thing to do, then Costco it is. As long as we reach our dog-friendly motel every night, I'll just go with it.

Now it's Monday morning. I made a big pot of coffee, and I'm hoping for an hour of calm and quiet before the chaos begins. The crew we've hired to load the truck are supposed to arrive at 9:00 a.m. If all goes well, tonight we'll be in Sudbury.

Thanks for coming along!

in which i say goodbye to cupe 1989 and mississauga library

Many friends and co-workers have said they'll check this blog for updates on our drive west, our new town, my new work. Welcome and a disclaimer: when I travel, wmtc becomes a travel journal, full of details that I want to remember but are probably super boring to anyone else. You've been warned.

For the past few weeks, every night that I wasn't working, I've been out with friends. Not exactly my usual schedule! But hey, I'll have more than enough time to do nothing on the road trip. It was wonderful to see people.

I've also found that, no longer being local president, I have so much more energy for socializing. I'm realizing -- not for the first time, of course -- that the union leadership position is a lot more than the hours you put in (although there's plenty of that). It's the responsibility, the mental weight, that takes the toll. It was an amazing experience, absolutely one of the most meaningful experiences of my life -- but I'm glad it's over.

Two nights ago, we gathered at Failte, the pub near my (former) library, to celebrate and say farewell. Spectacular bad timing: it was also the first snow in our area, early for the GTA, and it hit just in time for the evening commute. A lot of people bailed on the party, and I was so disappointed that I nearly called it off, texting various people to see if they were still planning to attend. (Two years of apartment life without wmtc parties: I was out of practice! There are always a ton of last minute cancellations and "we'll try"s that turn into "no"s.)

Most of my union team was able to be there, and good friends and comrades from Toronto, and dearest friends drove down from London. Some 1989 members stopped by; I also invited a handful of managers who I respect and have enjoyed working with. The (new) (post-strike) Library Director and two senior managers came and stayed for quite a bit.

We were out late, plus the usual post-party hang out, so I was thoroughly exhausted and hung over for my last day of work. More goodbyes, a wonderful, frank, wide-ranging talk with my manager, and one last stint on-desk. Then I packed up my office, turned in my staff badge, and slipped out to the parking garage.

My most recent position in Mississauga Library has been great. I was a senior supervisor, part librarian and part administrator, responsible for keeping the department running smoothly. I loved it. I fully expected to stay in the position for at least another year, and experience it without the added time and responsibility of union leadership. Fortunately I'm moving into substantially the same position in VIRL.

For the last few weeks I've been receiving emails from members thanking me for my work with the union. The words I keep seeing are strength, dedication, and passion. That's been beautiful and incredibly gratifying. But I've also gotten thank yous from junior staff about a positive work environment -- and that is equally gratifying.

When I started my new position, the department was mired in negativity. Gossip, infighting, and backstabbing were the norm. Staff was treated completely inequitably, with a well-stroked in-group played against a dumping ground of overworked outsiders. People were burnt out and disgusted, and the ways they dealt with those feelings only created more negativity. Attitudes sucked, with good reason.

I knew that every one of my co-workers cared about the library and wanted us to succeed. I knew that potential was there, but it was buried under a huge pile of crap. My manager and I set out to turn it around. I worked hard to create a work environment where people felt supported and valued. Hearing my co-workers' reflections this week showed me I succeeded.

There was one person in particular who I was hoping to hear from. They had had a particularly rough time -- mountains of work dumped on them with no consultation -- hell, barely an acknowledgement -- and no time or space to develop the parts of their job they liked best. As a result, this person had withdrawn from the team.

I made it my mission to turn that around, gradually re-distributing workload, giving them more agency, and acknowledging their contributions -- which are considerable, both in quantity and quality. My manager and I both had a sense that this person was much happier at work now. But I did wonder. Was I interpreting this change accurately? When a person is private and doesn't disclose much, you never really know.

Before leaving for the day, this person stopped by my office. "You made a real difference here," they said. "You and [manager] made this a great place to work again."

Honestly, that meant as much to me as every union member who thanked me for my representation.

fact: it is really hard to leave friends and comrades

This is the tough part. And it's really tough.

Friends, union sisters and brothers, the activist network. Saying goodbye.

Leaving this place, Mississauga, is easy and exciting. Leaving a job that I love is a bit sad, but my new position awaits, and sounds like an upgrade. Leaving the Mississauga Library System, hurrah. On to a new and (probably) better system.

Leaving friends... really hard. So hard that I wonder why I'm doing this, even though I know the answers.

There's nothing for it, really. Sure, there is Facebook and various technologies to keep in touch. There are future vacations when we might make a reason to see each other. And new connections and communities await. Yep, I know all that. Not asking for advice here. Just stating a fact: leaving people you love sucks.

a rare bout of nostalgia: remembering our move to canada

August 30, 2005: wmtc

Packing up the apartment and getting ready for the road trip brings back bittersweet memories.

In the spring and summer of 2005, we were in our final preparation for moving to Canada. All at once, an amazing writing opportunity dropped in my lap, we found a house to rent, and our dog Buster became extremely ill.

We made a one-day roundtrip trip to Port Credit (Mississauga) via Buffalo on the first day of what would become a new round of Saving Buster. (Since that cold and rainy night in Washington Heights when I found him on the street, near death, our lives were all about Saving Buster.) This time, it was months before we got a proper diagnosis. He got sicker and sicker, practically fading away before our eyes.

As my deadline loomed, I was writing full-time Monday through Friday, and working my day-job, two 12-hour days, all weekend.

It wasn't long before we realized Buster needed a specialist, which meant taking a subway to a Zipcar, driving the car back home, then driving all the way downtown. Multiple appointments, incredibly time-consuming -- but we saved his life. After that, he was on high doses of prednisone, which means very frequent trips outside, and he couldn't be alone for more than an hour or so.

This is a dog who already has two chronic conditions, requiring all kinds of meds. I had a spreadsheet with all the different instructions -- this on an empty stomach, this with food, these drops in both eyes twice a day, these drops in one eye once a day -- etc.

Allan hired the movers and did 100% of the packing while I churned out the words. It was the most pressure I have ever felt, before or since. But we did it. Allan got us moved. I met my deadline and got paid -- which let us not work for more than a month after moving. I was determined that Buster would make it to Canada with us, and he did.

Ten weeks later, while we were living in Port Credit, one of Buster's conditions suddenly worsened, and we had to let him go. Packing and moving makes me think of that.

It also reminds me of that day, a bit more than 13 years ago, when our dreams and our plans and our hard work and our luck all came together, and we physically moved to Canada. Coming out of the immigration building with my stamped papers, holding my arms high in victory, crying with joy and relief, Allan and I hugging and whooping. We did it.

Finding that post -- the drive north -- I scrolled through the wmtc category immigrating and moving. For a long time I marked the anniversary of moving to Canada -- six months, one year, two years, three years, four years, five years.

Then there are the "becoming a Canadian citizen" posts -- which also reminds me that this blog was, for a time, monitored by the federal government.

Then the anniversary posts end. In 2015, on our 10th anniversary of moving to Canada, we moved from our last rental house into our current apartment. I noted the day but didn't make a special post.

Through my library work, I've learned that, in general, one is an immigrant for a year, and a newcomer for five years. Living in a chosen country for more than five years, most people feel acculturated and no longer think of themselves as newcomers. This was true for me.

11.11

11 anti-war books, parts 1 and 2.

11 anti-war songs.

Robert Fisk: "...Heaven be thanked that the soldiers cannot return to discover how their sacrifice has been turned into fashion appendage."

Why no red poppy, why no white poppy:

It's that time of year again, the week when no one dares show their face on Canadian television, or indeed in any public place in Canada, without a red poppy symbol dutifully stuck on their lapel. What was once (supposedly) a remembrance of the horrors of war drifted first into a celebration of war and finally into obligatory, reflexive display.

Many of my friends are wearing a white poppy today, and I wish them good luck with their campaign. I myself have no wish to display a physical comment on a symbol that is meaningless to me. It would feel like wearing a Star of David to show that I am not Christian.

There is only one symbol that can express my feelings about the war dead - the Canadians, the Americans, the Germans, the Japanese, the Vietnamese, the Guatemalans, the Africans, the Native Americans, the Iraqis, all my fellow human creatures - and the wounded, and the ruined, and the heartbroken, and the shattered witnesses - the millions of lives wasted - for conquest, for profit, for nationalism, for ideology, for imperialism, for nothing. That is the peace symbol I wear every day. And much importantly, inside, in my heart of hearts, there is my core belief that war is evil and we must oppose it.

Honour the dead by working for peace.

something you can do with your shock and outrage: support military resistance to u.s. concentration camps

As the outrages pour out of the US daily, or seemingly hourly, good people's shock and horror are often accompanied by feelings of frustration and helplessness.

Far too many well-intentioned organizations are lining up around the midterm elections, as if the answer lies only at the ballot box. Many people are organizing locally to support rallies, demonstrations, letter writing, and the like. Still, the frustration is palpable -- and understandable. These actions, although important, feel so insufficient. The current US government shows no sign of respecting the rule of law or popular opinion, and certainly not morality.

One concrete action we can take to resist the Trump agenda is to support military resistance. Whenever and wherever fascist governments have perpetrated crimes against individuals and against humanity, they have been enabled by the loyalty of the militaries at their commands.

"We were just following orders." This was the answer famously given by Nazi officers on trial for war crimes in Nuremberg, Germany after World War II. The civilized world rejected that answer, and the Nuremberg Principles were created to enshrine that rejection in international law.

Unfortunately -- the most unfortunate thing in the world -- most military personnel the world over do not resist. But some do. And those courageous soldiers are fighting on the frontline for peace and justice.

Military resistance is the most direct blow to the outrages perpetrated by immoral governments the world over. Resistance is a lonely road, and one that comes at a very high price. Ask Chelsea Manning. Ask Kim Rivera, who -- deported by the Canadian government -- gave birth to her youngest child in a military jail.

War resisters need financial support, and they need moral and emotional support. And other soldiers need to know that resistance is possible. As with any groupthink, it's easier to speak out when others have gone before you.

Courage to Resist, which supports the brave and principled soldiers who refuse or resist illegal orders, has launched a new campaign: Do Not Collaborate

This summer, what might have been the defining low point of previous administrations, was simply the outrage of the moment: A plan to have the military host massive concentration camps of upward of 200,000 immigrant detainees across the United States, as we reported to you in July.

These camps do not appear to be going up as quickly nor on such a massive scale as first announced (quite possibly due to the resistance on many levels), but they do appear to be moving forward. On the Texas border at Tornillo Port of Entry, a tent city that first detained a couple hundred children a few months ago will hold nearly 4,000 kids by the end of the year.

Few people actually join the military to travel to distant lands to kill people. Fewer still join to help run concentration camps. Under both US and international law, military personnel have a moral and legal obligation to refuse to comply with any order that involves collaboration with these camps, but unfortunately few are aware of this fact.

That’s why we need your help. Together, we’re going to launch a strategically targeted communications project to reach service members across the country with this message:

These camps are illegal and immoral.

You have a responsibility to refuse and expose these orders.

Direct military resistance is powerful.

Our initial goal is to raise $20,000 to spend approximately one penny per member of the US military with this challenge. Of course, we believe that service members deserve two cents worth of encouragement if we can raise $40,000!

Just the idea of these massive military-hosted immigrant detention camps brings back memories of the forced relocation and incarceration of 120,000 Japanese Americans during World War II. Many of us thought something like that could never happen again, and yet, here we are. Along with everything else you can do to resist this affront to humanity, please support our challenge to military personnel to refuse these illegal orders. Your tax-deductible donation of $50 or $100 will make a huge difference.

Click here to learn more, or to donate to the Do Not Collaborate campaign.

thank you 2018 red sox! #unstoppable

108-54
   3-1
   4-1
   4-1
   119 wins

It was a magical season. Red Sox owner John Henry said it himself: "This is the greatest Red Sox team ever."

In 2007, I dubbed the championship -- and the team -- inevitable. It stuck, and became the theme of our gamethreads. Last night I asked, "If 2007 was inevitable, what was 2018? What's the one word?"

That word was unstoppable.

My #YearOfTheMookie didn't extend to the World Series. In this round, there were so many unlikely heroes. Steve Pearce won the series MVP award, but my money was on David Price. He was brilliant. As was Chris Sale.

And no one was more brilliant than rookie manager Alex Cora, who pushed all the right buttons to creatively manage his mix-and-match pitching staff. Cora's first act as Red Sox manager was to fly relief supplies to Puerto Rico -- "my island," as he calls it. Last night while receiving congratulations, he asked if he could bring the trophy to that island. Millions of people heard him ask, how can they say no?

Thanks to Joy of Sox for the pics. Many more such beautiful (and a few amusing) photos here.

i need a canada for my subconscious: the kavanaugh hearings and we go on

I avoided the Kavanaugh hearings as long as I could.

I used to take a special interest whenever survivors go public. I'd read everything I could, write letters to newspapers, speak out on social media. Send a note of support to the woman. Find the sisterhood, share the pain. This hurt, but it helped, too. I think most people who have publicly shared private pain will attest to that: it hurts and it helps.

I'm unwilling to do so any longer, or at least I'm unwilling to do it right now. I avoided all of it. I put my head in the sand. But it found me anyway, as my entire Facebook feed filled with news stories, personal essays, memes, and outrage. I could have avoided Facebook, but that felt like punishing myself.

I saved them all. I planned to do one long wmtc post with all the reaction. I found the time, but not the will. I started having PTSD symptoms again. Or I should say, I started remembering them, because apparently I have them a lot but I'm not aware of it.

Really, it all comes down to this: I am so so so so so totally sick of trauma playing out in my life. I can't stand it anymore. I just cannot stand it.

But of course I will stand it. I have to. Millions of people put up with much worse. I'm not feeling sorry for myself. I'm just fed up. And there's nothing for it. I was fed up with the US and I moved to Canada. There's no moving to Canada for my subconscious.

* * * *

the tyranny of the subconscious

my subconscious is an annoying bitch

in which i admit ptsd is forever

in which baseball makes me pull an all-nighter: 2018 world series game 3

Last night, the Red Sox and Dodgers, and their fans, survived the longest World Series game in baseball history. Somehow I watched til the end and am still at work today! Joy of Sox (a/k/a Allan) says:

The clock on my desk read 3:30 AM when Max Muncy hit an opposite field home run to left-center in the bottom of the eighteenth inning, giving the Dodgers a 3-2 win over the Red Sox.

This was the longest World Series game of all-time, both by time (7:20) and by innings, smashing the previous record of 14, first set in 1916 when the Red Sox bested the Dodgers. According to a tweet from Stats by STATS, this game lasted 15 minutes longer than the entire 1939 World Series, when the Yankees swept the Reds in four games in a combined 7:05 [Times: 1:33, 1:27, 2:01, 2:04].

I had to work last night, rushing home at 9:15, annoyed that I had already missed 4+ innings. Ha! Allan got home from work at 12:45 a.m. -- catching the last bus of the night -- and was surprised and happy the game was still on. Little did he know there were hours still to play.

I was falling asleep between innings, and often during at-bats. If you stream games the way we do, MLB shows highlight clips -- the same clips, over and over and over -- between innings. And of course some of these clips feature the Red Sox. So I'd have the weirdly disorienting experience of waking up, seeing Jackie Bradley, Jr. make an amazing catch, robbing a player of a home run... only to realize that was a different game.

Perhaps the craziest thing about the night was that I wasn't even heartbroken when the Sox lost, 3-2 in the 18th inning. Both teams blew several scoring chances, and it was only a matter of time before a pitcher gave up a dinger. We took the division series in five games, and the league championship series in five games. Now we'll win the World Series in five games. No problem.

As I crawled into bed, I was sure that I'd call in sick today. But it's Saturday, we're short-staffed, I was out one day last week...so I bit the bullet and limped into work. I'm fine now. Tonight's game, however, may be a different story.

I'm collecting some other thoughts (read: complaints) about MLB, but I'll save them for a future post.

this just keeps getting better: port hardy plus full employment

This. Is. Amazing. After we move, Allan will retain his current job -- same salary, benefits, vacation, everything -- but work from home. We never expected this and are simply over the moon.

First: people who do document production at large law firms never work from home. I was in that business for 25 years, and Allan has been doing it longer, and neither of us have ever heard of a doc-pro person working remotely. So unheard of that we didn't even inquire about it!

Next: we really didn't know what Allan would do for work on the island. His current work only exists in major cities with big law firms. We expected we take a substantial income reduction, and we were prepared for that. But we can't live on only my salary, and what work Allan would find was a big concern -- much more to Allan than to me.

Then: some months back I saw a job posting for a "team assistant" in a Ministry (social-service agency) based in Port Hardy. A full-time, union job with benefits in the same town, where we're living and where I'll be working! A unicorn! Allan applied, and we did a ton of prep and coaching for the interview. And he did really well.

After our September Northern Ontario trip, Allan was catching up on his work emails and found a memo about a pilot program for employees to work from home. The deadline to apply was that very day, and he quickly sent it in.

When the Ministry called for a reference, Allan ended up speaking with one of the lawyers about our move. A long-time doc-pro person from the firm's Vancouver office is retiring... and would Allan like to take his position, but working from home?

We were very excited! But we also were concerned. If working remotely is a pilot program, what happens if it doesn't work out? If Allan turns down a rare full-time job with the Ministry, five minutes from my new library, and then the firm discontinues the pilot... that would suck.

That's when we learned that Allan's job will not be part of the pilot program. It's the same job he has now, from a different location. They were even so keen to make it work that they adjusted their preferred schedule to coincide with my new schedule. So for the first time in several years, Allan and I will be off work on the same days of the week.

This is amazing for so many reasons! No need for dog-care. No commuting time or expenses. No pay cut. Much less stress. In general, a much happier Allan.

I know some of you will say, "It was meant to be." Some will claim, "Everything happens for a reason." In my universe, nothing happens for any reason, just a big messy stew of talent, hard work, and blind luck.

Whoo-hoo! We're doing this thing!

the good, the bad, and the mushrooms part two: northern ontario road trip pics

Photos from our recent trip in Northern Ontario are here on Flickr. I'll also update the original post.

question about driving from ontario to bc: how long will it take to cross the rockies?

We're planning out our road trip to Vancouver Island a bit more carefully, with less spontaneity than we might normally want, because we need a pet-friendly motel for every stop. At the end of a long day of driving, I don't want to schlep from place to place looking for a motel that will let us stay with Diego! We'll also get better rates online, which will help compensate for any pet fees.

Allan is giving me a list of towns we're aiming for, and I'm booking motels. The question is: how long to leave to cross the Rockies?

We know there are different crossings, some easier (and safer) than others. We know to check weather conditions. We know to have a full tank of gas before starting out. All that kind of stuff: we know. No need for advice on that front. (Although why I bother writing that, I don't know. There is something about moving that brings out the advisers.)

What we don't know is, assuming good road conditions, how long to leave for this leg of the trip. Which pass would you take and how long would you expect it to take?

Update: This trip is not for scenery, not for hiking, and not for sightseeing. That's a bit frustrating for me, but I'd rather have more time in our new home before beginning my new job. This trip is strictly for getting there.

more on the privilege of moving: future tax refunds and the hero of this story

Thanks to several Facebook friends and at least one wmtc commenter, we've learned that the hefty cost of moving across Canada will be (eventually) (somewhat) reduced: the move is tax-deductible. It sounds like we'll receive a substantial refund from moving costs. I already have a box dedicated to receipts.

But the real reason we can afford this move -- and the hero of this story -- is my brother, M.

Back in April when he suggested driving the truck for us, we didn't think we'd need it. Then a few days ago, I emailed to say, we may need to take you up on that. And immediately M goes into action, checking flight times and air fares. Yep, he's taking the redeye from Oregon to Toronto to do this! He's also missing Thanksgiving with his family -- although I'm sure my adult nieces and nephews all understand, both the reason and their father. This is typical M. Someone needs me? I am there. It's quite amazing. Heroic.

We're extra lucky because my sister-in-law, also M, will join us somewhere on the trip, after Thanksgiving. It's very fitting, since the four of us explored Vancouver Island together earlier this year, when only the four of us knew the real reason for the trip.

the trials and tribulations (and incredible privilege) of relocating

Moving from the GTA to the north island is going to cost a lot more than I thought. And I'm struck by my huge privilege in being able to do this. Let's just label all these moving posts #FirstWorldProblems and get it over with.

When we moved from New York City to the Toronto area, we hired a big, professional moving outfit. It was a very complicated move involving a critically ill dog, a one-way minivan rental that had to be returned to Buffalo, our landing documents, and whatever else. Hiring real movers was expensive, costing about $6,000, but it completely removed the stress from that part of the equation. We had been saving money for a long time and it was part of our Moving to Canada Fund.

During our Vancouver Island trip last April, my brother offered -- several times -- to drive a moving truck for us. He's done this more than once when relocating from New Jersey to Oregon, so he knows what the trip entails and was willing (even happy) to do it again. But I saw that a rental truck would cost around $5,000 anyway, so why go through that? I don't know why I didn't realize that moving to a remote location on Vancouver Island would cost more than twice that much.

We got a few moving quotes that were suspiciously low. How could a move of that distance cost only $3,000? Answer: it can't. Researching the companies online, I read dozens of horror stories, most involving possessions being held hostage as companies demanded thousands more in payment, many involving lawsuits. Still, I had no idea.

From top-shelf professional movers, we got two quotes: $15,000 and $18,000. Ouch!

We did not expect that. But my brother was ready to spring into action, before I even absorbed the shock. The way I saw it, we had four choices:

1. Get rid of almost everything we own and move to the island with whatever can fit in a small U-Haul trailer behind our little car.

2. Go with cheapo movers and hold our breath.

3. Pay $15,000 or more.

4. Rent a truck, hire moving crews on both ends, and take my brother up on this incredible offer.

Option 1 is tempting (for me, not for Allan) but really not practical. If we ever had a life that could fit into a small trailer, that ship sailed a very long time ago. We'd have to replace many things -- and we won't live anywhere near stores to do that. We're also not prepared to get rid of all our books.

Option 2 is a non-starter. Why knowingly take that risk?

Option 3 is possible. We have the credit. But that would be a huge weight under which to start our new life. It would take me years to pay off. Unwise.

Option 4 ends up costing about $8,000 anyway, plus our own expenses. Not cheap! But doable. In 2019 we take only staycations -- which will not be a problem in our new location -- and by the end of next year, we're even.

(If you're wondering why we don't split up, one of us drive the truck and the other our car, I am not physically up to driving 5,000 kilometres by myself.)

So Allan and I will take turns driving our little Kia with Diego in the back seat, and my intrepid brother will drive the 26-foot U-Haul.

More about the trip itself in a separate post. I'll also blog along the way.

my plans and hopes for our big life change

We are moving west for several reasons. One is a lifestyle change. I've adjusted to living in the sprawling suburbs, and while we were living in a (rental) house, it was nice. But for the last 2-1/2 years we've been living in an apartment. A nice apartment, and a large one, but what's the point of the suburbs if you don't have a backyard?

Soon we will have a big yard, a deck -- and the ocean very nearby! I want to spend more time outside. We're not super outdoorsy, but I love to walk and hike, and I would like to kayak now and again. We're about to have a huge wilderness area in our backyard. I want to experience it as much as I can.

I have two goals.

In 2019, I will take a break from activism and focus on improving my fitness level. Although I've never been thin, I was in good aerobic condition and had good muscle tone -- until I started grad school in 2009. First school plus two jobs, then becoming a local union president, made physical exercise sporadic at best. My fibromyalgia demands I get adequate rest. Something always got pushed off the schedule, and it was almost always exercise. Now it's almost 10 years later, and I don't like how it feels.

Another change I want to try involves travel -- how often, where to, and why.

There are few things I love as much as travel. It feels more like a need, an addiction, than a pastime. But these days, some of my hunger to see new places has abated. I just want to travel -- anywhere. There are still dozens of places I'd love to see, but I notice that any travel, to anywhere, feeds the need. A big, special trip -- like Egypt last year, or Peru in 2006 -- slakes the thirst for a long time. But a short trip to a place I know well also quiets the bug, just for a shorter time.

Since we moved to Canada in 2005, all our family has been long-distance. This has sometimes caused conflict between wanting to visit people, and wanting to travel someplace new. Moving to Vancouver Island, we'll be closer to some family and farther from others, but everyone will still be long-distance.

So here's what I'm thinking. I'd like to try traveling primarily to see friends and family, plus local exploring, and see how that feels. That alone includes Vermont, Boston (Fenway Park), New York, New Jersey, California (both SoCal and the Bay Area), and Oregon. It could also include Florida, Maryland, Texas, and Alaska, if we wanted. And the GTA! We would see family and friends, and get some travel in at the same time.

I wonder, could we do this for, say, five years? Would it satisfy my wanderlust?