New Blog.

So I'm starting a new blog.
Don't be alarmed. I'm not stopping this one or anything. I just need one to be able to show all my friends from here. And I talk about them too much in this one, soooo...
A new blog it is.
It's at www.onlytomorrow.blogspot.com

I had an unusual weekend. I went to a party at another ops' house. Apparently, ops are only friends with each other, so that was everyone at the party. A bunch from the department, plus the boss and the second in command.
Fabulous.
I was a bumblebee. I drank a bottle of rum. I only managed to NOT get sick by keeping one foot on the floor, one hand on the wall (same old tricks from college) and fixating alternately on a Toronto Maple Leafs jersey and a painting of Tim Horton.
There was much laughter at my expense. But whatever.
This morning, I was the first one up and the only one without a hangover. (I don't know how that happened, but I'm not complaining.) I woke up at 7:30 am, and wandered around the house looking for all the stuff I threw off of myself last night in my drunken stupor. People were sleeping on pretty much everything, so I went back downstairs and watched Bowling For Columbine and half of Gone In 60 Seconds before people started getting up.
I eventally left and tried to drive myself back to the Ramada, which is supposed to be about a 30 minute drive, but I didn't have good directions, so I turned off to get gas and a map and ended up in this amazing part of town. There was a path, so I pulled over, for some reason, and started hiking. I brought the camera and tooks TONS of pictures.
I found a heap of rocks on the path that looked like it had been partially knocked over. They have these things here. People will pull over on the highway and make them. They are called INUKSHUKS. Or something like that. They're Inuit symbols of lots of good things, like maybe, safe travels (? I'm guessing on that one. Gord tried to explain it to me when we were on the bus back from the retreat, but I don't remember most of it.) They are EVERYWHERE.
And there was one on the trail, but it was in rough shape, so I was putting it back together a little (because I love these things and I want to build one in the woods when I get home. A big one!) and this guy came whooshing by on his bike and thought I had made the whole thing, and said "Niiiice!"
I laughed.
Behind the inuk-thingy, buried in a heap of rocks was a book in a plastic bag. Which I thought was weird. You would have too.
It was the sort of book a Jehovah's Witness would give you. What a creepy way to try to deliver that stuff!
I finally made it up to the road for the shot of the whole city, and when I did, I smelled the dead animal smell. So I was picking my way down the road, trying to avoid it, and I saw what it was: a garbage bag FULL of animal (i hope!) insides.
It was disgusting.
All I could think of was that woman that was found in the trash bag. She was from Hartford, and someone killed her and put her in the bag and drove her all the way down to Rockville and dropped her. She was missing for maybe 2 months and a guy was out raking leaves in his yard, and there was the bag. It probably wasn't anything like that, that I saw, but the possibility exists, and it FREAKED me out. Understandably.
Then I got in my car and headed back to the Ramada.
And on the way back, I passed 2 cars pulled over on the highway together: the brother and sister whose party I went to last night.
When I pulled into the Ramada, a guy was standing outside, waiting for his family, and he just started asking me questions about my jeep. "Is it a bumpy vehicle to drive? How are they on gas? How's the heat with that top?" Etc, etc. Then he was like, "So, you've been staying here a while, huh? You work for Tim Hortons?"
Does EVERYONE in this country know about me?
So that was my day.
I leave for Maine on Saturday.
88 days till I can come home.