There’s no denying it’s beautiful here. I went for a drive along the Pacific coast with a friend in his VW Thing yesterday. The goal was to end up at a beach where they release baby turtles. We did find it and paid the 60 pesos each to help (that’s about $5). The problem was that we got there on time at 11am but found out the actual important part, the release, doesn’t happen until 5pm when the sun starts setting. In between there were lots of kid geared activities, face painting and colouring, so we wandered the beach for a bit and then headed home. No swimming on that side for me, thanks, it’s a little rough for my taste. We did see a whale breach, probably a humpback.

A good day.

There’s been rain over the last couple months so it’s really green and lush right now. When I landed I actually wondered if I was at the right airport for a minute. It’s really beautiful and I’m glad I’m here.

Today the sky was perfectly clear, not a cloud anywhere, and the water matched. Blue and smooth. We hiked to the beach and took a well deserved swim. Well, that’s loose, I usually just float and try to clear my head. There’s a cruise ship in the harbor, so that means tourists.

I’m ok, getting better.

Not that it would be hard to find a regular companion here, haha. There are so many middle aged and older men that would love to have their way with me. I know it’s been written about many times before so I’m just adding to that pile (and less eloquently so) but let’s clear up some apparent misconceptions.

I get involuntarily fondled here a lot. Every day and often more than once a day. Yesterday it happened as I was waiting for fresh fruit to be cut up. A man sitting on the curb reached out and stroked my leg and asked if he could see my tattoos. Yes, I said, you can see them but you may not touch them. For real, this has to be said? Two days ago an American man did the same to my arm and then asked if I had tattoos all over, because that is his business, to know where I’m tattooed. Because I exist and he deserves to know. I am public property.

The worst happened the other evening, I’d gone to the local bar to see if anyone I knew was there and wound up standing outside chatting with the waiter. Out comes a man, he looked about 50+, balding, red face, Hawaiian shirt. He says to me in a rueful tone “god, a beautiful girl like you with those tattoos…” Message received, loud and clear, I wrecked my body for you. Oh gosh how I regret it, how I wish he’d saved me from enduring all that pain and spent a ton of money. Now I know I exist merely for his viewing pleasure. I did end up talking to him a bit, I have no pride, ok, and things went from bad to worse. He got very angry when I admitted I had no knowledge of the big fishing tournament that’s on right now. Like I give a shit about fishing. Or Sammy Hagar. Dude finally gave up and walked away, glaring at me the whole time.

TO BE CLEAR: I don’t want your revolting hands on me. I don’t give a flying fuck what your outdated and antiquated opinions on women with tattoos are. You are incredibly rude and in the future I might not be so nice about it. I haven’t decided yet if the next handsy asshole gets a slap or spat upon. I guess that’s up to my own discretion.

It’s not all bad here, of course. I have lots of friends and the city is full of interesting places to explore. I go to the beach every other day and float in the water. I’m practicing head stands because I think that’s a useful skill. I’m reading books again. It’s restful and chill and I’m feeling more like myself every day.

A long time ago, 6 years, when I first got back together with Shannon, a lot of people weren’t terribly thrilled. My best friend at the time was particularly unhappy about it, she had been around during the first break up and she knew, deep down, that my relationship with Shannon would “end badly”. She said that out loud to my face. Such hurtful words that had haunted me since I heard them.

And how right she was, what a bad ending. Possibly the worst ending? I’m sure she’s proud, she sure told me.

She wins.

Anyway. It’s been really awful. I miss Shannon all the time, I miss his humour and love and stories about rockets and his smells. I miss his beard and his homoerotic tattoo. I miss finding beard hairs everywhere. I miss him constantly encouraging me to work hard, follow my dreams, and be strong. We are at the 8 week mark and I’m starting to heal but it ain’t easy. The apartment we shared is still full of art and all kinds of business that is just a constant reminder of him, day in, day out.

The good news is that I won’t be here forever. I’m no longer tied to this area because it’s close to the pharmacy that has his medicine. I’m no longer tied to this city because it’s where his doctors are. I can go anywhere, I can do anything, it’s a big, wide open world and it’s all mine. I don’t want to be the Yoko Ono to his John Lennon and I know that he wouldn’t have wanted that for me either.

Mostly I want to thank all the kind, generous, thoughtful, people out there. I have received so many beautiful emails, phone calls and visits from old friends and new, strangers, fans, family, artists and bodymod practitioners. And all the money donated to my paypal has gone into a trust fund for Ari, every penny. Her post secondary education is definitely covered savings are looking good. In my dreams she goes into science, researching genetic diseases, and finds a cure for all myopathies. Of course she can do whatever makes her happy, she is a Larratt, she will be successful at anything she tries. And she will be loved by everyone that comes near her, she’s a wonderful girl.

The list of individuals I need to thank publicly goes like this (and if I missed you, I apologize, my brain is still flying at half mast): mum, dad, Megan, Kathy, Devon, Ashleigh, Libs, Michelle, Saira, Michael, Kiran, Corrie, Ryan, Molly, Ryan, Amber, Marty, Ashley, Scott, Shane, Jovanka, Marc, Nicole, Gillian, Jill, Badur, Clive, Kerrick, J.J., Sheri, Jana, Jason, Chris, Dave, Therasa, Gillian, Julia, Stephanie1, Stephanie2, Abbie, Anna, Terri-Lyn, Joe, Danny, Jim, Trudy, Richard, Jill, Holly, Collen, V. The love and support, the groceries and drinks, the open ears and advice that you guys have given me is hugely appreciated. I love you all.

It’s pretty obvious I adore her.

I’ll post a picture of my haircut as soon as a decent picture of me is taken (this one is about 2 months old).

It’s ok, I had such an amazing week so full of love and support I can’t complain. It technically started on Tuesday when I took Go to St.Catharines to hang with my super awesome parents. My mom had asked what special birthday supper I wanted and I requested bouillabaisse. I’m sure her heart sank and she yearned for the days when I asked for hotdogs. It turned out so well and I hope she feels it was worth the effort. Possibly the best meal I’ve had this year! And wine! Wine, wine, wine, so good. The next day we went shopping stateside and that’s always a treat too, despite the disappointing nail polish situation.

I worked Thursday and Friday (my actual birthday, poorly planned I guess), and Shannon took me and my boss out for sushi. That was fun, especially taking T out to celebrate. Shannon had already given me my beautiful ring, made from one of my wisdom teeth that had been extracted 12 years ago.

I love it.

Yesterday my best friend and quilting mentor, Libs, took me out for birthday pho and gave me the most beautiful gift, a quilted pillow sham.

See that? My initials? I’m here to tell you that Libs is a genius. Further proof, the card she made me. I’m definitely ripping off this alphabet for future sewing projects.

Thank you Mum and Dad, Shannon, Libs, Therasa and all the love on Facebook for making this the greatest birthday yet!

Ha ha! And they laughed at me for taking that picture but I knew it was an important, momentous moment of my life.

I. Won.

Of course it was downhill from there. But who remembers the second game? Or third? My victory dance is truly something to behold, not that it is likely to ever happen again.

I’m on my way home now, on the train. Back to reality. And while I do love to hang out with my ever shrinking Windsor crew, I miss my love every second I’m away and I’m glad to be heading in this direction.

Silly.

I’m planning on blogging more, I’ve got a great post about my latest obsessions brewing. Honest.

Taken on my way out the door to Jana‘s bridal shower/bachelorette. I never wear lipstick and Shannon said I looked really pretty so maybe I ought to wear it more often.

This is the house I think of when I smell pancakes frying, use a white board, look at dollhouses and walk on shag carpeting. It’s the house that made me love Siamese cats, model trains and fake fireplaces. Every time I eat a cherry or see someone canoeing, pat a spaniel puppy, it’s this house.

Did I mention the laundry chute?

Can’t you just taste it right now? So delicious. So full of artificial everything. Yummmm.

Ok, and confidential to Gillian and Laura (no spoilers, don’t worry):

Here’s how I currently feel about BBUK.

I’m angry with John James for being a baby. He’s all angry and miserable lately and I guess it’s because he’s been nominated and is stressed out but spare me the hissy fits, please. He’s slowly crawling his way down my ladder. My love ladder. I’m not so sure if it’s John James ftw.

I hope Rachel goes home tomorrow. I don’t like her. But then again, I didn’t like Corin in the beginning and now I do.

Corin. I want to hate her but I guess I don’t. Like Gillian said, the whole diary room “He’s fit, right? Fit? Not fit? Is he?” turned me around. And then the fake video on BBLB (I think or maybe the post or pre eviction show) of kids acting as various house guests and the little girl with orange on her face “I’m buzzin’!”  killed me. I love her tragic back story and I super love that she’s very much aware of who she is.

Dave is still gross, I’d like the Baron to leave, Josie is always Josie, Andrew is a weirdo, JJ is fit, Jo and Mario are  just boring and that brings us to Sam Pepper.

I’m horrified by this child. He completely revolts me. He is, like Josie said, a ratty little brother, but he’s 21. I hate that he’s from Kent, where my family lives. I’d probably want to murder him if I had to spend more than half an hour with him, I am really feeling sorry for Josie. And everyone else. I understand that he thinks he’s being honest but he’s got no tact and that’s a part of being an adult. Ugh.