november 5, 2000. The funniest thing about tonight's episode of the Simpsons is that I witnessed St. Stephen going into the very same area code tirade a few months ago. (The link is purely a date reference; there's no mention at all of the fact that Paris, St.St., the Boy & myself spent a good hour or so arguing & laughing about area codes. Stephen can be such a verbose crotchety old man sometimes - like Andy Rooney with anger-management issues.) Today passed in a sleepy daze of work. I spent a good three hours online, trying to access pre-1991 population statistics for a small Nova Scotia community, and all I have to show for it is a headache & a growing sense of panic. This goddamned project is due on Wednesday, for hell's sake - I need that info pronto! My other project is going reasonably well - I'm developing a thematic unit around Joy Kogawa's wonderful novel Obasan, which means three lessons and a multitude of activities. Since the novel is about the Japanese internment camps in Canada during World War II, I'm working on themes of citizenship & national identity (you know, the kind of topics that make language arts teachers really excited.) I'm only hampered by the small fact that every reference work I need is back in Ontario (including the novel itself). But it's going as well as can be expected for all that. This morning's church service was entitled, "Sunday Before Remembrance Day" - and I actually felt conflicted & uncomfortable when we sang "God Save the Queen." Who's Canada is this? And why? Which citizens did we fight the War to protect? And so forth. One year ago we were in All Saint's Cathedral in Edmonton, watching Agamemnon's ordination. I remember those days as cold, grey & hurried. I slept a lot, growing drowsy in the evenings before we could even begin to drink & reminisce. The Boy & I stuck to each other like ticks, doing everything in tandem. It was strange and beautiful and happy, filled with good food and better conversations. Thinking about it makes me pine for a vacation - or at the very least, a weekend at home.