Well, I’ve already built next week up in my mind. In Jaime’s Brainland next week will start slowly, you know to ease into the swing of things but, by Wednesday all pistons will be firing. Yep, in Jaime’s Brainland Jaime will be given notice of impending employment on Wednesday; to speed things along, Jaime will be informed that next week is the final vacation week in Jaime’s Brainland. Jaime will recieve profuse applologies for the extrordinarily long delay and will be asked whether she would prefer wine or champagne at her welcome back party.

In Jaime’s Brainland next week will be -5 and sunny after a weekend of fresh snow. Jaime’s dog will finally have learned how to behave like a perfect angel. Jaime’s brother will thank her for the best birthday present ever. Jaime’s husband will bring her breakfast in bed one morning (and clean his own breakfast bowls away for all the others).

In Jaime’s Brainland everything will fall neatly into place for a week of bliss setting things up for 51 reality weeks of working hard and playing hard (well maybe not 51 weeks of hard work, but 48 weeks at least). In Jaime’s Brainland frequent flyer miles balances will be going up, not down, as will bank account balances and the all important karma balance. Everything will be in the black and 2006 will become know as “The” year. And hey, if any of you want to come and visit there’s always room for more good things in Jaime’s Brainland.

What time did you get up this morning?
7:40

Diamonds or pearls?
Diamonds…Canadian diamonds to be specific (anything but blood diamonds)

What was the last film you saw at the cinema?
Syriana…I think I slept through the most important ten minutes though

What is your favourite TV show?
English Teachers: a documentary series about Canadians teaching English in Taiwan

What do you usually have for breakfast?
Oatmeal with way too much sugar

Favourite cuisine?
Bert’s cooking

What food do you dislike?
Mushrooms and tomato soup (seperately or combined in one disgusting bowl)

What is your favourite CD at the moment?
My cd of Christmas Carols

Morning or night person?
Morning. To this day I have never succesfully pulled off an all-nighter. My brain shuts down at 1am

Favourite sandwich?
Avacado and shrimp on a crusty croissant

What characteristic do you despise?
Selfishness

Favourite item of clothing?
My brand new Christmas sweater from Norway

If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would it be?
Russia (but not in the winter…if history has taught us one thing it’s that Russia should be avoided in the Winter)

What colour is your bathroom?
Cream. We thought it was white until my Mom repainted the ceiling white and it didn’t match the walls)

Favourite brand of clothing?
Bannana Republic (especially the outlet store)

Where would you retire to?
Vancouver

When is your birthday?
If you don’t know then I’m not going to tell you

What is your shoe size?
6 womens or 5 in kids sizes

Pets?
Woof!

Any new and exciting news you’d like to share with us?
Still waiting. If you don’t know what for then I’m not going to tell you

What did you want to be when you were little?
A farmer. I know, weird eh?

What is your favourite flower?
Sunflower

What date on the calendar are you looking forward to?
That ill defined date when I’m finally employed

One word to describe the person who you snaffled this from?
Stranger

Bert got cross country skis for Christmas and Meeka got a real x-back pulling harness. Put the two together and you get the wonderful sport of skijoring.

Picture this: a crisp cold winter day, a wide open field blanketed in sparkling fresh snow, the sounds of the city muffled to a dull hum. Suddenly a strange movement in the distance, a rapidly approaching flurry of fur, fiberglass and gortex. Before you can run and hide the specter swoops past you, a crazy dog attached viw bungy cord and rope to a wildly flailing man on skis. Welcome to skijoring.

Now a few things you should know about our dog: (a) she’s affraid of hockey sticks, brooms, mops, and pretty much every other man-made stick like object (b) she hates wearing anything other than her collar (c) we’re still trying to figure out if she’s super intelligent or dumb as a post.

And now Bert: (a) he has only cross country skied twice in his life before this Christmas (b) neither of those occassions involved the slightly more technical ’skating skis’ which is what he has now (c) Bert often forgets which commands he’s decided to train the dog with.

Naturally given the above we all expected the first Meeka-Bert skijoring experience to end in disaster but we were wrong! Bert picked up the skiing thing very quickly and Meeka was apparently born to pull and showed absolutely no fear of the skis, even when they were flying through the air as Bert face-planted in the snow.

So if any of you happen to be in Montreal this winter and you see a well-oiled man-dog team skiing it might just be Meeka and Bert. And if you see a dog leaping on top of a face-planted man, well that deffinately will be Meeka and Bert.

Every Monday I have decided to post a tale from my travels related to toilet themes. This week it’s toilet paper:

At a rest stop in Morocco I slipped off the night bus to Rabat to use ‘the facilities’ (a very sophisticated British term for the can). After winding my way through a good two-hundred yards of dark, deserted corridors I came upon a crooked green door hung in a straight blue-tinted frame…the facilities.

Stepping through the door, a dingy light from a naked bulb revealed an old woman sleeping on a stool, one hand resting protectively on a small stack of toilet paper piled in a garish plastic basket. An obvoiusly-fake cough and a too-loud slamming of the door yielded me no signs of life and so, after checking the depths of my ratty pockets for a morsel of toilet paper or the remenants of a napkin I tentatively reached for the guarded sheets of scratchy toilet paper.

As soon as my fingers brushed against the top sheet the old woman’s milky eyes flew open and swung towards my outstreached hand with a wave of accusation. Frantically digging through my pockets I rushed to show the watch-woman that I had no intention of stealing her wares. Too embarased to put anything back, I threw the entire handfull of coins into her basket before grabbing a few sheets and rushing to the stall. A few quick calculations conducted while squating over a seatless toilet revealed that my 3 dollars of spare change had bought me two and a half tiny squares of flimsy ‘papier hygenique’.

It almost sounds worth it when you use the french term.

Here are some random facts about Christmas in our house:

We buy our dog a present…from the dollar store

We also buy each other presents…at least one comes from the dollar store

Bert doesn’t know the words to any Christmas carols

I know the words to way too many Christmas carols

We have a real Christmas tree which we cut down ourselves

When we’re rich we will get a train set to go around the bottom of the tree

My Mom gets us pyjamas as a night-before-Christmas-present…she started the tradition so that we’d look good in Christmas photos

This is the first year that Bert and I will be openeing our night-before-Christmas presents (and all other presents for that matter) in our own apartment

We sent out more than 20 Christmas cards this year

We only recieved six Christmas cards

We can’t wait for Christmas morning…but we will!