May 11, 1999.

Visual aids!

Today my mom's pregnant nursing friends came over with their toddlers. The photo is from the bubble blowing portion of the afternoon. In addition to the soapy games, we ate a truly indifferent buffet lunch and visited a nursery (the plant kind). It was a good time. I bonded with 2 year old Syd (the femme babyhead on the right) via dancing, flower appreciation and cheesecake...and we all know there's no stronger basis for female friendship.

I've been a bit anxious about the camp counseling job lately. I'd basically put the whole thing out of my mind after I was offered a position with the camp back in February. You know how it is: I got all caught up in exams and papers and living on Queen Street that I never checked the schedule to see if I was missing out on anything.

Last week I started having anxiety dreams about the whole thing - the kind of dream where someone in authority tells you that you don't deserve anything. You know - a confirmation of the impostor complex. But then I couldn't find the tiny sheet of paper with the dates. No biggie...I had a contact number, so I just called for more information. But then I found the sheet. And I read that counselor confirmations take place in March. That there is a confirmation party in April.

It was at this point that I started to panic. But it was Friday afternoon by that time, and I couldn't call anyone. So I tried not to fret. I made alternate plans for the month. I tried not to talk about it to make the situation real. And I tried to look on the bright side.

Today I got an answer. Apparently the confirmation letters didn't go out until last week - and they have an old address for me (I applied whilst in Hippie Hell). The lady sounded very reassuring. But now I've stared at the bright side for so long, I'm not sure if I'm satisfied with this outcome, even if it is for the best.

Perverse little whore, ain't I?

During dinner, our backyard filled with ducks.

I'm not exaggerating, either. Our swimming pool often serves as a bit of a rest spot for migrating animals, and we've had ducks before. But this evening, there were at least half a dozen drakes attacking a lone female...under our deck chairs! Our first thought was that they were copulating, but the drakes were trying to push the female under, and it seemed a bit too aggressive for mating. I dunno, maybe ducks have gang-bangs all the time and I'm just sentimental from too many Disney films.

20 minutes later, there was only one drake left. His chest was wounded, and the female didn't really like him to come too close. They just stared into space, like an old married couple in front of the prime time line up. I suppose this is what ducks do in the spring: screw, fight & pose avec ennui. Just in case you wondered.