Regretfully Back

I planned my trip so that I could spend the day at Le Nordik on my way to Wakefield... it was nearly 30 degrees that day so the spa was crowded and festive. It took me a good couple of hours to immerse myself in the peace and relaxation I sought, but after the second hot-cold-relax cycle I began to let my stress go.

About 1600 I headed up to Wakefield and checked into the Mill Inn. The handsome young man at the front desk upgraded my "basic" room to a divine suite overlooking the falls. I dropped off my luggage and went exploring...

A road out back led me to a cemetery where I had the opportunity to pay my respects at the grave of Lester B. Pearson. After prowling the small area, I allowed a trail that led to Gatineau Park entice me into the woods, where I climbed a nearby summit and enjoyed the hot breeze.

Descending the trail after a period spent spellbound in the woods (and very homesick for my lost house in the country) , I was charmed anew to see the inn and waterfall from the back-side. It looked very European and reminded me of my country walks around Bosnia. I went up to my room, grabbed my book, and wandered down to the lounge to sit outside, sip a local micro-brewery beer, and immerse myself in the book.

This set the pace for the weekend... it was rainy the next day so I read and nibbled all day long. The book was my constant companion for the two days... by the time I left yesterday I had read almost 700 pages. What an intriguing read... but I *am* a huge fan of Neal Stephenson to begin with. He's certainly not for everyone, though.

I enjoyed an outrageously beautiful and wonderfully delicious table d'hote meal the last night I was there... the food was presented so beautifully I wish I had my camera to capture every course before I destroyed it before eating. (Exhibiting signs of complete blogger idiocy, I completely neglected to bring my camera on my little get-away.)

All in all... a fabulous trip to a fabulous place. I will absolutely be returning there. I am still enjoying a few more days off before I return to school on Tuesday, and waiting with baited breath for my final marks from this semester. They ought to be published tomorrow... (I have four out of six (and they are very, very good) but it's the two I don't have that are the ones I worry about.

I'm Ready

I'm ready for the beginning of the new semester next week.
I think the coloured pens will make the course load just that much easier.

More importantly, I am ready for a couple of days of rampant hedonism.
My spa pack is all ready to go, (and yes, it includes chocolate and knitting) and so am I. A day at Le Nordik and two nights at the Wakefield Inn. I'll see you later! :)

Signs of (Crafting) Life

I've since finished the companion to that lone fingerless glove I teased you with ages ago.



I've also completed the lovely Whisper cardigan from the Interweave Knits Spring magazine.







I absolutely love this knit and am thrilled to have finished something so lovely. I wore it for my final database exam and I think it made me 5% smarter.

There's also signs of life in the sewing room.





Mum Janet's quilt is coming along nicely... I love how it's working up. The neutrals are so elegant and the top stitching in the high-sheen rayon is delicious. I'm sure she'll be delighted with it!

Gotta Get Away

I wrote my last exam today, and feel like pooling into a small blob of ooze on the floor. Oh, the sudden relief of pressure! (Not for long, though. I'm in school all summer, and classes resume 5 May.)

Smart girl that I am, I just realized I have a week off and not much to do with it. The first thing that crossed my mind was to dust off my passport and go south. However, there was no packages available to Mexico at all (what's with that?) (and I don't care about swine flu, before you say it.) The best offer I could find was a two-star hotel in Cuba, six nights for around $600.

I thought about it hard. Money's at a bit of a premium right now, what with not having a job and all, but a week off and exams finished required some sort of celebration. But do I really want to hang around an airport for two days to get there?

I "settled" for this instead. Two nights and two spa treatments at the Wakefield Inn in Quebec. It's almost as much as a week in Cuba, but there will assuredly be no cockroaches and it's only an hour's drive away.

I can't wait. :)

PS... I am TOTALLY not bringing my laptop.

"Nothing to See Here!"

To distract you from the fact that I have had no new blog content for ages, please go tour this site. I have been laughing continuously all evening over the entries... if you're a grammar weenie like I am, this is your kind of place.

Bringing Me Back To Reality

A thanks to all that sent comments remembering that today marks a significant passage for me; my last day as a serving member of the CF. I thought it would make me a little sad at the change; as good as school and my civilian life is shaping up, I loved my time of service and was so proud to be a part of something so (I think) important.

Honestly... I've had no time for emotional response. With two term tests this week (one in database, which I find very challenging), finals in another week and a beloved guest (mum Linda) coming out on Thursday, I have had absolutely no quiet time for reflection. I ran ragged all weekend, studying this, fixing that, doing practice tests, sewing, gaming... until my husband, catching sight of the fevered, frenzied gleam in my eye, ran me a hot bubble bath and gave me a massage on Sunday night "to bring me back to reality", he said.

Yes, he *is* a keeper.

Thanks as well for your comments on your favourite poets. I'll have to check them all out and see if there's not another personal "win" on the list.

Poetry Sunday

Spring

To what purpose, April, do you return again?
Beauty is not enough.
You can no longer quiet me with the redness
Of little leaves opening stickily.
I know what I know.
The sun is hot on my neck as I observe
The spikes of the crocus.
The smell of the earth is good.
It is apparent that there is no death.
But what does that signify?
Not only under ground are the brains of men
Eaten by maggots.
Life in itself
Is nothing,
An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs.
It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,
April
Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.

~ Edna St. Vincent Millay

I was never much for poetry , until I heard a program on CBC Radio One's Ideas on Millay. I fell in love instantly, and am given to reading Vincent out loud while in the tub, luxuriating in the sensuality of her imagery and the hot scented water. Hubby perhaps thinks I'm insane, but I need to speak her poetry out loud to capture the nuances.

I've lately been turned on to Yeats, too, by an episode of House, strangely enough. A young boy reads this poem out loud to his mother... it, too, captured my imagination.

Do you like poetry? Who is your favourite poet?