Miss Canada redux

Who would have known that shortly after I started this little blog, Miss Canada would become Miss Universe (kudos, Ms. Glebova).

I was considering changing the name of my page as a result, but have decided to leave that up to the readership. Email me to let me know what you think -- and to suggest alternate names if you think a change is indicated.

On another note, I have a list of topics I'll be exploring herein. Suggest some that you'd like to read about by emailing me.

Yes, I have an accent.

Where are you from?

I am asked at least once a week where I am from. My accent is so strong that even the middle-eastern lady at the sandwich shop, and the cashier at my grocery store notice right away and ask me where I'm from. Or maybe that's just because I said "Please" and "Thank you".

Either way, I know I speak Canadian. There are some pointed differences, outside of the ubiquitous "Eh?" that punctuates my verbal language and the obvious spelling variations that characterize the written.

- I say a purse-lipped, prudish "out" and "about", while my American friends yawn a lazy, slack-jawed "aout" and "abaout".

- When I was in grade five, my American friends were in fifth grade.

- When I'm sorry, I'm SO-rry. When they're sorry, they're sah-rry.

- My Canadian teachers set exams, I write them, they grade them and I hope to get a good mark. American teachers write exams, the students take them and hope to get good grades.

- I say "you're welcome". Americans say "uh-huh", "yup", or "sure".

- My Mum and my husband's MOM get along splendidly.

- When get pissed, it often doesn't mean I'm angry.

- The last letter of the alphabet is zed.

There are lots of other examples -- I won't bore you with an exhaustive list.


a secret: I'm terrified of losing my accent.

Some notes on Heat

I made the mistake of checking the weather today. May 20th, and already hitting the triple digits. In fact, calling for 112F this weekend. I'm reminded of a note I wrote home during my first summer here. Egoistically, I believe it bears repeating:

[17 June 2003] Some Notes on Heat

Daytime temperatures (8am-10pm) in Phoenix at this time of year routinely hit 110F/43C. Temperatures can reach over 120F/49C. Phoenix recorded 121F on July 28th, 1995.

Where most cities in the desert drop 20 to 30 degrees Fahrenheit at night, Phoenix does not drop past about 90F/32C because there is so much concrete.

Body temperature is 98.6F/37C.

Things, especially metal things, get to be about the same temperature as their surroundings (can be hotter in the sun). Much hotter than your body temperature. So things burn you. Like your car keys. Car bumpers in a parking lot. Metal parts on your watch. I have to take my watch off once temperatures get over 100F/38C.

The interior of your car is an oven. Literally. Emmanuelle and I baked play-doh on my dashboard. The steering wheel can get as hot as 159F/71C (this is the temperature at which your ground beef is cooked), The dashboard can get up to 181F/83C. Chicken is done at this temperature.

Deserts were not made for inhabiting.

Check current Phoenix weather here.

Miss Canada

In beginning this Blog, I hope to somehow find answers to the three questions posed most often:

1. What are the differences between here and home?
2. What do you miss most?
3. What is Canada like?

Some of my blog entries will be retrospectively entered from my first stay in Arizona, in the summer of 2003. Others will be stories I collect (and recollect) now that I am here to stay -- should the Immigration Gods see fit.

No, I was never Miss Canada.
Yes, I do miss Canada.
Warts, Liberal Party and all.

A barren, hockeyless land

So I have learned that there is no International Hockey World Championship coverage at all in the US. Because ESPN refused to buy coverage (claiming something to do with the hockey strike), and because the other TV channels couldn't afford to.

The only way to watch online (as far as I can see) is through Mediazone. This costs $7.99 per quarter final game, and $9.99 per semi/medal game. Or $39.99 for an all-access pass. Fox cut a deal with Mediazone to offer coverage for a bargain: $34.99, but the Fox Sports Grill in town isn't even showing it.

I sucked it up and spent the ten-spot on the Gold medal game since Canada (more or less undeservedly) made it to the finals. God knows where Mediazone got their commentators, but the experience was a far cry from Hockey Night in Canada, or TSN. One commentator had a British accent, and the other sounded Dutch. Or South African. Or something. All of these countries known for their hockey, of course.

The live streaming was decent, I suppose, but deficiencies (either on my end or theirs) tended to make the whole game look like a slow-mo replay. I could rarely see the puck, as it moved faster than the transmission could show.

In future, I will hunt out a good sports bar with a satellite dish that carries TSN and I will arrange to watch all the games there. I recommend that any sports bar in a non-Hockey town that is looking to carve a niche should really try to cater to all of us Canadian ex-pats who love and miss hockey -- even if just because it reminds us of home.

True Story.

True conversation with the Post Office lady while I was sending out my immigration paperwork:

ME: How do you recommend that I send this package (indicating US Citizenship and Immigration Services) so that it gets there quickly and so I can get a delivery confirmation?
HER: Most people send this kind of thing certified mail. Would you like to do that?
ME: Sure, that sounds great.
HER: Fill this out here. Are you going somewhere?
ME: No, I'm hoping to stay, actually.
HER: Oh! Your English is so good I couldn't even tell you're foreign!

[pause]

ME: That's because I'm from Canada.