My mom and I are going to go shopping on Sunday to get the rest of the ‘gear’ I need. Gear sounds so hardcore. I need boots and other stuff. Socks. I need to remember socks and underwear.

I’m nervous about packing. I’m a bad packer generally. This time it should be a bit easier because a lot of my clothing (read: shoes) would be completely useless to bring, and so it follows that I shouldn’t pack them. Although I almost convinced myself last night as I was falling asleep that I should bring a dress or two and some nice shoes just in case there’s a square dance or something. Maybe I should bring a dress.

I also want to get a belt. I have an old belt buckle that used to be my grandpa’s. I’m not really sure how I ended up getting it, but isn’t it fitting?

I’m feeling run down. I think I’m stressing too much, but indirectly. I’m thinking about the course/internship a lot, but really abstractly. I watched Lars and the Real Girl yesterday afternoon and cried. But I think the reason I cried so much was because of all the other emotion I’ve been feeling, or not feeling. Deep.

Anyway, back to packing anxiety. I don’t want to show up with tons of shit and have all the cowboys (for the record I’m using cowboys to mean both cowboys and cowgirls, I know there are those of you who will be unimpressed, sorry) think I’m a city slicker princess. Actually maybe I do want them to think that. I was telling Barbra and Patricia the other night when they were over for diner, jokingly, that I was going to show up in my purple pants so that after a month of working really hard and proving myself (or whatever) we could all laugh about peoples first impressions of me when I showed up in my silly pants. Now if that ever happens I’ll have to tell them that I planned it all. Won’t I look clever. Or lame.

I think I’ve really just reached the point where I want to move on. I know it’s coming and I’m sick of anticipating it (and coming up with stupid scenarios in my head that involve purple pants). This usually happens when I’m leaving. I get really impatient. I feel bad for my parents who end up having to deal with me being grumpy and uncommunicative. I should probably try harder not to be an ass.

I forgot about the camera on my computer! So here is the hat:






I can’t stop watching clips of cougars on youtube. I think the music in this one is especially good.

cougar 1, bear 0

Well if they're just going to fight each other I don't really have to worry. Also, that cougar looks unusually large, right?

I bought a hat. It’s big. I was walking around the house in it yesterday and I kept hitting the side (brim I guess you call it, but the side brim, or whatever. Maybe there will be a hat lingo component to my course?) against corners. I’d post a picture but I lost the cord for my camera. Seriously though, it’s big. I don’t know how to transport it. A few people have suggested wearing it, but I don’t know how that would pan out on the plane, I think it would really infringe on the personal space of the person sitting next to me if I were to wear it. And I don’t want to hold it on my lap. Have I mentioned it is big. I have a box for it, but the box is really really big. I feel like the hat needs a human name. Harold? No.

Sunday I’m going to Lammle’s with my aunt, cousin, and mom to buy a hat, among other things. I think it’s going to be a gong show.

I forgot how hard it is to leave Edmonton. I’ve done it so much in the last few years. Actually I don’t leave for about a month, but the goodbyes are starting. And this is about the time that I’m programmed to start all the preparations that leaving entails.

Claire is leaving in two weeks. I’m excited for her, but I’m also really sad.

I’m also really selfish. I just want everyone to stay until I go.

http://cowboyoutfitters.com/cowgirls.html

thanks adam.

It occurred to me today that I should buy a plane ticket to Vancouver. I’m not sure if I should buy a return ticket or not. From Vancouver I will have to take a five-hour ride northeast to the guest ranch. My biggest fear right now is that I’ll be the only person, other than the driver, on the ‘Chilcotin Express’ and that awkward (a lot of it) conversation will ensue. Actually, now that I’ve written that down I’m not so worried.