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bags of bacon

Your intrepid friend from Arizona has been in Canada for 14 days, and the temperature has already been 0 degrees. Twice. And I don’t mean 0 degrees celsius, I mean 0 degrees fahrenheit. The first day it reached 0 Nanook and I were listening to the radio in the morning. She was getting ready for work and I was doing god-knows-what but I doubt it was productive, and the DJ casually announced the temperature and then said, ‘looks like it’s going to be quite cool today.’

No. Shit.

So, Canada is trying to kill me.

Other than that, it’s been pretty lovely. Highlights from the trip include the following:

1. My first white Christmas.

Growing up in Southern Arizona, I had precisely zero snowy holidays. And a corresponding number of frostbitten digits and cases of hypothermia. But not this year! This year was my first Christmas blanketed in snow, and it was incredibly lovely. cc1

Until the snow grew to a monstrous three feet and tried to eat my face.

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2. Speaking of Christmas, Nanook and I decided not to do presents this year in favor of spending a weekend at a B&B after the holiday at her Dad’s house. This was the best idea ever because the holiday was filled with proving my adopted Italian-ness with some horrible thing called grappa, after which we both needed a dark, quiet place.

The B&B we stayed at was in a tiny town on the banks of the St. Lawrence called Morrisburg, and was run by the second-loveliest gay couple ever. As soon as I met them I felt like I was meeting Robin Williams and Nathan Lane in The Birdcage, and I absolutely mean that as a compliment. The B&B was gorgeous and gaudy without being tacky, including a white Christmas tree made out of feathers and a poodle named Ralph who stole Nanook’s heart.

However, the best part might have been the moment we walked in the door and one of the owners looked us over and said, ‘Oh, we had some girls get married here this summer, do you know them??’

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This made me think a couple things. The first was, ‘why is this gentleman standing in a white feather tree decorated with peacock feathers?’ The second was, ‘I’m not nearly friendly enough for Canada if they expect me to meet all the other gays.’ I’ve been worried for a minute now that I won’t make it here due to my tendency to avoid people, but that sort of sealed the deal.

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3. Nanook and I are getting disgustingly domestic, so trips to Canada now always seem to include a visit to Ikea. Which generally goes like this:

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4. The new year is usually a mixed bag of highs and lows, but it’s nice to know I’m not the only one struggling to make my life a healthier place to be. For example, my sister-in-law, the Rach-Meister, texted Nanook yesterday morning to let her know she had just eaten a bag of bacon and that 2013 was off to a rough start. Frankly, I don’t know what a bag of bacon even is, but it works to my advantage since I recently challenged Rachel to an arm-wrestling match. You might say this is unfair because she is recovering from a broken neck, but I say you haven’t met Rachel.

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Obviously all the Canadian excitement leaves me with mixed feelings about returning to DC, but I think I can safely say 2013 is going to be a fun one.

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About laurenceofarizona

i've always been more than a little suspicious about australia. what the hell are they doing down there with no one there to supervise them?? it makes me kind of uncomfortable, actually. i imagine its all didgeridoos and loose women and anarchy but the rest of the world will never be able to properly peer pressure them into civility because they've got some sort of massive hoax industrial complex to fool us into leaving them alone with their didgeridoos. and they will get away with it because they are so flippin' far away! whatever. jokes on them when whatever tectonic plate australia sits on brings it closer to the rest of us.

Discussion

One thought on “bags of bacon

  1. I may be soul-mates with the delightful gay gentlemen you described. 1) My dog’s name is Rowlf (which is frequently pronounced “Ralph” by everyone who knows him, and frankly, i don’t think he can tell the difference. 2) my christmas tree is made of PINK feathers.

    Posted by LMAR | January 23, 2013, 2:35 pm

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