Leaving Nova Scotia

Wednesday, October 16

We woke up and hit the road as the sun golden rays lit up the frost bitten windows of our black truck. As we drove I looked out the window, recognizing every house we passed. We were going on the first saga of a very long and exiting adventure. Pixie, our cat, was curled up on Willow’s lap beside me. We were taking her to her new home in Bars Corner. As we passed the library I sighed; “I love that place.” So many hours spent sitting and reading, comics, novels, chapters books...anyway, soon after that we took Pixie to her new home. It was sad to see her go, but the people were nice, so it felt better then the last time. Poppy and Lucy, Pixie’s offspring, are staying at a friends, while Grizzy and Luna, more cats, were staying back at our Purple house. We only left Bridgewater at ten, because of how long it took to get to Bars Corner. After leaving Bridgewater, it felt like a long time, watching trees whizz by, and then, boom; we were passing under the Nova Scotian flags and the New Brunswick ones. Goodbye Nova Scotia, hello adventure. 

- Graydon

Stuck in the City

Tuesday, October 15th

Well, I suppose that I never mentioned a trip down south, for an entire year, earlier, did I? Well, then I guess it's high time I did.
So, for a long, long, long time Mom (and the rest of us) have ben dreaming about a road trip down to Mexico, Belize and possibly beyond. This summer, our trip has taken on a new urgencies. Now, I have a question for you, have you been looking up? Well, we have. And what we've been seeing is pretty darn scary, and what the internet tells, in plum terrifying.
Now, when I say the word Chemtrails, one third of you will scoff and stop reading, another third of you will look puzzled and keep reading and the rest will frown with concern and (hopefully) believe what I am about to say next. So, when planes go flying past over head, one of two things happen.
First is, they leave a short, white trail that vaporizes quickly, leaving no trace. Or, they leave long white lines across the sky that we don't like at all. These are called Chontrails and Chemtrails. Chontrails are fine, they don't do much harm, but Chemtrails are being intentionally sprayed and are doing something called Geoengineering. It has to do with Global Warming, sort of. So, the great big idea is, to spray aluminium, barium and other heavy metals, into the atmosphere to reflect the sunlight and help stop the world from over heating. Sounds like a great idea, hun? So, of course, without thinking of the consequences, we went ahead and started spraying...or maybe someone did think of the consequences, but did it anyway. The result? Well, desertification is one. The heavy metals seed clouds, in other words, make it rain. But isn't that good? Your thinking. No. Their seeding clouds in the wrong places, depriving rain from others. Whenever the sky is heavy with Chems, I feel tired, argumentative, depressed and sometimes I even find it hard to breath. We also think that something called HAARP is behind it all, and that their final goal is to control the weather systems, and that they already do. Just Google 'freaky weather' or something, and you'll see what I mean. Anyway, Nova Scotia is shock full of Chems right now, and that is why we are leaving.
Right now, I'm in Ontario. Our first stop. It's here we intend to buy our amazing airstream camper trailer, that will be our home for the upcoming year. Cool, huh? We left NS on the 10th, and made it here in two days. We're staying at my Grandmothers, and, yeah, it's crowded. Willow and I are sharing the downstair's bedroom, but I think tonight she intends to crash on the couch, Bridget is a noisy sleeper, and I can never stay still while dreaming of Lord of the Rings.
Today is cloudy, with a thick, ugly layer of smog wrapped suffocatingly around the horizon. A refreshing breeze brings the smell of grass and gasoline wafting in through the window. My back has been troubling me lately, I think it was all the packing. I lugged a lot of heavy bins all over the place. Up to the attic of our big purple house, for storage, into our beautiful black truck, to come with. Maybe that had something to do with it. And two nights ago, I slept funny and woke up in pain.
Thanksgiving was fun, we still have tons of turkey left over. I took a really nice walk down to Fairy Lake, a nearby park, and sat on a willow tree, draped out over the water. I must have been there for ages, writing in my book and listening to the ducks. They remind me of Piper, and, admittedly, a kinda miss the funny guy. We got a call from the Petite Reverie B&B, where he's staying with two HUGE geese, and he's doing well, which is good. I can hear construction not too far away whenever I go outside or stand by an open window, kind of annoying.
I think Willow fell off of her Ripstick not too long ago, but I think she's okay. She and I have been getting along okay, but I can tell she's stressed. Actually, we're all stressed. This leap of faith has us all on edge. She is going to be taking Hip-Hop dance lessons. And Rose is going to be doing Acrobatics-duh! The kid's a monkey! I'm going to be trying out classical, spanish guitar with a tutor who has a thick Russian accent. Wow...can't wait... Gray (his new nickname) hasn't decided yet, and all of us are doing Spanish lessons-posssibly even Gran. Mom hasn't been doing too well....this house is a chemical cocktail right now, when we first came there was like fifty scented candles hidden everywhere. Gran's a packrat, she can't throw away any gifts. She also has some scented products, and had, weirdly enough, some scented paper? I don't get her sometimes. Yeah, I may not have mentioned this, but Mom had MCS (Multiple Chemical Sensitivities) meaning that if you wear your favourite perfume or cologne and walk by her, she know it, might get a headache, or start sneezing. If she had too many exposures at once, she could be bedridden for days with a migraine and flu like symptoms. Anyway, I don't see any chems right now, which is good, and I think I'm going to find something Organic in Gran's mish-mash fridge to eat.

Later Dudes-Grace

Bluejay

Monday, July 29^th, 2013 (still?)

Today, so far, has been…well, slow, I guess. I woke up a LOT earlier then I would have liked to. Rose was a bugger this morning, shushing the dog, arguing with Graydon, so on and so forth. Breakfast was wheat-infested cereal, a treat that made me swell up like a fatty (excuse me, horizontally challenged personage) been to McDonalds once to often. Anyway, mom made up a rather long list of things we have to do in order to sell this house, then she decided to take her brand new bike back…wow, she like never treats herself. She said it didn’t suit her, and that she wasn’t really comfortable. Willow and or Graydon was (were) going to accompany her, so I was chill. I’m the kind of person who likes to stay at home, who enjoys some quiet and alone time. So when Willow (put off by a bulbous cold sore) decided to stay back, mom said “I think you should come, Grace. And I have to trust my intuition.” Or something like that, to put off Graydon. He couldn’t fit in the car, thank god. When I have to go out, it’s nice when it’s just mom and I, and we can talk. She got her books that she ordered (yes, we stopped the post office), all by that Malidimia person (Malidoma, whatever) he rights about religion and rituals and stuff. He’s from Africa, and I read some of that as we drove in our bumpy, sometimes veggie oil, right hand drive Pajero. Anyway, Al, the owner of the Lunenburg Bike Barn wasn’t there, so returning her bike was relatively easy. (He called later on in the day, and I’m pretty sure if he had been in, returning the bike would have been 100 times more hustling. (So if you ever want to return a bike, wait till Al is out.)) Then we had to go to the Great Dane. All right, Willow and I are no longer employed; we (mom and I) decided to quit when we learned of their money issues. (We weren’t getting paid). They still didn’t have money for us, ugh, and they are starting to really pst me off. (Pst is my way of saying something else.) Next we went into this new shop with really cool clothing and got me a grey, awesome hat. The lady was eccentric, saying I looked good in everything and that I should be a model, ext, ext. Next mom got the both of us some super-sweet green food dye, minty flavored, chocolate chip, homemade ice-cream. It was good, but it made us both feel a little iffy, if you know what I mean. We have this adorable, pitiful blue jay in our care right now. A whole family of them moved into our backyard ‘cause of the duck seed, and then Lucy (fat poppy’s sister, Princes Lucy Lu the Goose) caught one. Mom took it to the vet and it’s wings are NOT broken, thank god, but it’s still a sorry sight, hopping about a screeching at us when we try to feed it. It bites too, I mean, dude, we are trying to help you, biting just making me drop you. The horseflies suck in the woods right now. First there’ll just be one flying around your head, and you swat at it, and then it flies off, and your like, thank god! And, guess what, he comes back, with all of his relations! Anyway, nothing much else to report on, other then the fact I have to go, as Graydon so aptly put, “Time for dinner.”

I guess I’ll chat later. 

A Typical Morning

June 30^th, Sunday

So, today is the last day of June, and tomorrow is Canada Day. Great, that means loud fireworks all night long. Look, I have no idea why I decided to keep a journal, (NOT a diary) but I have, and even though I haven’t finished the fourth sentence yet, I am going to warn you, read any farther, and death shall follow! Anyway, let’s start somewhere sooner then now, because right now is boring.

So, we slept in today, not that sleeping in is unusual to us, we just haven’t been recently due to my new job. The past three days, Willow (my fourteen year old sister) and I have worked 25.5 hours at a new restaurant called the Great Dane. The owner, Evan, is a nut, not saying I have met a cook who is not one. My first job, yeah, sad, I know, sixteen and just got her first job three days ago. Know what? You do better! Anyway, things were okay even thought yesterday was opening night, and there was only two cooks, one being Serge, 68 Russian who barely speaks English. So, anyway, everyone slept in and everyone woke up when somebody knocked on the door.

“Oh no!” Mom whispered from her big bed that she shares with Rose, (all five of us are squished in the tiny cottage with zero privacy so that our big house stays clean). “That must be Christian!” Christian, a German friend, had been coming over to give me violin lessons recently on Sundays (that’s today!) but Mom was going to cancel and she wasn’t expecting him this early (I mean, we were all asleep (and ugly) (no offense)). They knocked again and Mom put a finger to her lips and I grabbed the nose of my big, red Irish Setter Bridget to stop her from barking furiously at whoever was making such a racket down stairs. Then the door opened. I instinctively mouthed the word “Shit”, but Mom just waved at us wildly to keep Willow in the back and Graydon (the only Guy) in the middle from making any noise. (By back and middle I am talking about order of bedding…well? I said the cottage was small with zero privacy!)

“Hello?” It was Jake, the alternative (short) farmer dude who brought us milk, butter and eggs every week.

“Helwow?” That would be Pearin, his three-year-old son, who looks exactly like him. All six of us froze, not moving, not wanting to go downstairs in PJs and tired faces. When I say six, I’m counting Bridget who so desperately wanted to bark and run downstairs to greet them. Jake and Pearin rustled a bit, opened and shut the fridge, commented on our large amounts of Kale, and then left to go to the LaHave Bakery, just four or five houses down the road. Mom breathed a sigh of relief, and everyone relaxed. I let Bridget go, glad she didn’t go bolting off downstairs even though they were gone. That was how I got up…at like ten something…

Rose just came in…she’s the youngest, says she hates it, but she is damn lucky, that kid. The only thing she has to do that is responsible is taking the compost up the hill, and she often gets away with not doing it. For eight, she’s pretty smart, learns a lot, having three older siblings, somethings good (like random facts) and somethings not (like how to swear). Speaking of which, all of is have been swearing an awful lot lately, meaning she had been as well. She a funny kid, that one, want’s to do absolutely every thing by herself. If you try to help her, she freaks. Climbs trees like a monkey, just like I used to. Crazy kid. Yeah. I call her ‘kid’ a lot. That’s like her nickname or something. Her poor duck (yes, she has a duck called Piper) has been limping recently. I wonder why. Mom says it’s because he fell or something and not to put him on gravel ‘cause he doesn’t like walking on it. That duck is a real character. Poppy’s purring behind me, wait, let me set the picture, so, I’m on the couch and Rose is next to me talking about how dumb the movie ‘Borrowed Hearts’ is. Wow. She said the same thing twice. Anyway, Poppy, the biggest and youngest of our five cats, is sitting up behind my head on the top of the couch. Mm, he has a fat, warm belly, silly cat. Needs to go on a diet though, whenever he runs his stomach bugles back and forth wildly. He’s grey and white and is often called ‘Mister Freckle’ due to a tiny brown freckle on his nose. Now Rose is singing in her Duck Talk…this weird “She, she, dutshe, wheeshal, dutshe.” Thing she does. It is very strange. My whole family (not me) is kind of bird weirdoes. Willow called Piper a Chicken, Graydon calls mom a bird, Rose is obsessed with ducks and invented a whole language for them, and me? I keep my nose clean of that entire ‘bawurd’ business. Maybe I’ll work on my book now. This whole journal thing is…new. Gods I wish I could stop coughing…anyway, you’ll learn more about me later…and second thought, on you wont, you shouldn’t be reading this is the first place, so bug off! (On that kind note, I think I’ll stop.) 

Or not...how about a picture or two...you don't know what any of us look like and I did a pretty poor job of describing people...