It has been the best of times, and sometimes, the worst of times.
My two weeks in Bonnyville have flown by in a staggering progression of amusing assignments and misadventures, but, despite everything, I am still here and my optimistic attitude is mostly untouched.
So, yes, confession- stricken by a debilitating migraine on my very first assignment, I was forced to dash to the washroom, mid-interview with the Crash Test Dummies' drummer, to be violently ill. A definite low point and a rather harrowing way to begin a new job. However, I recovered (physically as well as mentally), and the rest of my welcome to Bonnyville was a great deal less damaging to my self-esteem.
I have gotten lost a handful of times, and by now, it's pretty much expected that when I get into my car, I will wander up and down the streets like the most novice of tourists, looking for a landmark to guide my way. The nice ladies at the Seniors' Drop-In Centre, by the way, firmly swear by their GPSs and recommended I invest in one. I was too embarrassed to confess my love-hate relationship with mine, which always seems to lead me astray.
I have navigated by the light of the giant perogy, survived a bout of light-headedness during a frank discussion of hip and knee replacement surgery, and managed to find my way around the complicated metropolis of LaCorey.
I celebrated my birthday at the Northern Lights School Division board meeting, and the happy occasion was even marked on their Twitter account. I like to think the fact that the BCHS guitar class played my favourite song on my birthday and that there was banana cream pie for lunch was the universe's way of making sure I had a good birthday. The cake waiting for me at work after the board meeting definitely helped as well.
I've also been on the receiving end of some well-meaning matchmaking, as some citizens of the Bonnyville area seem to take my self-proclaimed “undateable” status as a challenge. An endless progression of photographs of eligible and not-so-eligible Bonnyville bachelors have been pulled from purses. My mother back in Wainwright (who dutifully carries photos of me to make use of similar opportunities), is very grateful that I've got such kind ladies looking after my romantic prospects when she is no longer able to do so.
As my third week in Bonnyville begins, I am exhausted, less overwhelmed than I was two weeks ago, and not half as homesick as I expected to be.
