Ain't no grave gonna hold my body down.

I finished up the nanny gig on Wednesday, oh how bittersweet. As it was nearing the end of the day I grew more and more excited... freedom was on the horizon! But as I was getting ready to go, I found myself lingering over goodbyes - bestowing many more kisses and snuggles than any little boy wants to receive.

And when they brought out a cake, sang me a thank you song, and put two dozen roses in my arms, well, I teared up. I AIN'T GONNA LIE. But it was the pleading from Mommy DRC that got me. Homegirl just wants someone to love on her kids. And man do I love those kids. I made promises to return, took the car seats from my car and drove home.

I woke up the next day with a bizarre feeling that I was forgetting something. I've been watching these kids for nine months, I saw them more often than I did my friends or family. I think it will be awhile before I stop planning outings and crafts in my head. Even longer to stop the worrying, thinking, loving and motheringness in me.

I didn't know what to do yesterday, free time is so foreign now. Robyn and Heather came up for some meaningful what-do-we-do-now chats. WE'RE ON THE CUSP OF BEING ADULTS, ARE YOU NOT SCARED? We made plans and promises to make it a good year. School likes to take you down and we are ready to build each other up. We're kicking off [the notoriously bad month of] September with a silly sleepover (because sometimes all it takes is a bad chick flick and a bitching round of truth and dare to take you out of your head).

And though this summer has easily been the worst most hardest most emotionally draining and tiring one of my life, I am ready to move on and start fresh. To leave my depression in the dust. To see the friends I've been avoiding (I'm sorry friends, you are just too astute at reading my emotions. One cannot hide from ones self if they are being made aware of ones self by another), to live the life I want to lead, trust in my faith and karmic justice and be happy.

Girl's night.

Pink champagne, shots and beer. Watching Sex and the City outside on the back deck. Fancy lingerie.

Girl's night was a raging success.

We share the cool gene.

What else are you going to do on a Tuesday evening but hang out with your bestie on the side of Mount Scio Road. In the woodsy part of course. The sun is setting, can't you picture it?


She makes me feel happy and grateful and humble every single time I hang out with her. Robyn completes me Jerry Maguire style!

These pictures are so scrapable, Robyn. And not a single one was photoshopped!

Love lockdown.

Isn't she the prettiest girl that you ever did see?

Yesterday I spent the day with Robyn at my cool house. Hiking through snow, cooking soup and watching fantastic Bette Midler movies - what a treat!

I never tire of this girl, she makes me so happy happy happy. And through our bitches and rants I always leave her company feeling twenty-million times more secure in where I am and what I'm doing right now.

In other news, I have semi-secured a job as a full time nanny for hoity-toity rich folk. I shall let you know how that goes at the end of this week.

If you've ever seen The Nanny Diaries with Scarlett Johansson than you'll understand why I'm hesitant to take such a position. Really and truly.

Oh, and just one more for kicks.

I was asleep for all of that.

Wednesday morning my brother left. And I cried. A lot.

Not just because he was leaving, but because I knew what it really meant: I was alone again.

I spent my entire Wednesday shift in a superfunk, trying to work out how many days until fall semester.

And then I got home, logged onto MSN (appearing offline, of course) and saw in Holly’s name “Sarah… coming to St. John’s the weekend, message me!”

Holly and I are brain twins. When one is in extreme distress, the other will receive the upset airwaves. It’s magic. Don’t pretend you understand.

And though only a temporary band-aid on my gaping wound known as loneliness, planning an entire weekend with my bifizzle, sure pulled me out of the darkness. But that is not all...

Enter Ashley.

Ashley, for those of you not recognizing the name, would be my oldest friend. We met in grade two, bonded over my rock collection and her squid hat (true story), and the rest was history.

We shared lockers every year. We went to each other’s birthday parties. We gossiped and giggled. We co-editored the school newspaper. We went on band trips. We had sleepovers. We baked with our Easy Bake Ovens (… right up until grade twelve, heh). I witnessed every single one of Ashley’s boyfriends. Loved, hated and ranked those boyfriends (Winner: Jared… sorry Joey. Last place: Though I know most want me to say Evan for his pure douche bagginess, you know I’m going with the love-to-hate-him, John).

I think she is the only friend I have never ever had drama with. Like ever. Our biggest fight was over who should get the single hook in the locker during grade eleven. And we have been friends for a decade.

Ashley e-mailed me yesterday to inform me that she got the biochem nerd job I begged her to apply for a few months ago. Why did I beg her?

Because this job is not in no-name-Nova-Scotia. It is here. In my St. John’s.

Ashley will be with me for the entirety of this coming fall semester.

Love is a many-splendored thing.

Guess Who.

I spent last Saturday with the most beautiful (inside and out!) person I know. Can you guess whooo?

If you guessed Ro-yn, you guessed right! We fed the duckies in the rain. We ate mountains of breakfast (our favourite meal). We played Pictionary and Guess Who. We went to the Dollarama (duh) and Starbucks (double duh). We exchanged our super special baby. We shared love and hugs and tears and laughs and gasps and sighs and laughs and laughs and laughs.

We only took a few pictures, but I did get a lot of video. Including the late night musical chaos that ensued. Don't try to understand it. Just let it be.

For my ladies.

Pork in my purse.

“Small things amuse small minds.”

I have a problem with this saying.

Robyn McHugh and I are living proof that small things amuse big minds. We don’t need to do crazy and epic things to showcase who we are.

We need five dollars and a half an hour at the Dollarama.

We need a couple toonies and bus ride around the city.

We need a kite and a breeze.

We need nothing more than each other’s company.

We’re just cool kids who do cool things.

Adequate treatment.

If you’ve checked any provincial or national news’ sites this week, you would have seen the latest scandal to plague the healthcare system. Only this time it takes place here in St. John’s.

A royal commission was launched after the government became aware of serious errors in breast cancer tests. Between 1997 and 2005, 1,013 women were subjected to faulty hormone testing.

The fallout? Some were told they had breast cancer when they didn’t. Others with breast cancer were told they were fine. Some were given inadequate treatment plans, while other perfectly healthy women underwent chemotherapy and mastectomies.

Mount Sinai found St. John's got it wrong for about a third of these patients. So 275 living patients didn't get the treatment they should have. As a result of discovering the error, about half of this group were then prescribed anti-hormone treatment. On March 18, 2008, a day before the beginning of the inquiry, the province confirmed that 108 patients who died did not get adequate treatment. In other words, 383 patients of 1,013 didn't get the treatment they should have.

It should also be noted that 50 women in Newfoundland and Labrador were mistakenly told they had advanced stages of breast cancer when they didn't. Some had mastectomies. The inquiry won't be addressing this problem specifically. [. . .]

The backlash from this discovery is going to be enormous in size. Every person who has been affected by this is going to seek retribution, and rightly so. But it does have the potential to get out of hand.

If you want to learn more, read one of the 158 news articles Google News links to.