home

Ahhh. Home.

"Home" is a very strange concept to me, mostly because I feel I don't really have one. Moving around a lot when you're younger and being semi-estranged from your family does not exactly foster one's sense of belonging. However, for simplicity's sake, I say the city I currently reside in is my home, while the total rural farming country where my maternal family is from (and still resides in) is home. And I always miss it dreadfully as the seasons change, especially the one from summer to fall. Fall is my favourite season to be in the country, with all the trees changing colours and every farmer out haying and harvesting into the wee hours of the morning and the smells which permeate the air, the big full blood-red harvest moons....just everything. It's no coincidence that Thanksgiving is my favourite holiday.

I've been listening to tons of country music and feeling homesick a bit lately, so while I was walking out of McDonald's and spied the newspapers big front page headline, it put a huge smile on my face and warmed my heart to the nth degree. I snatched up the newspaper and practically skipped (well, I would have, if I hadn't had to cross seven lanes of traffic to get to my building, but you get the idea) across the road.

Finally, after forty-eight years

Steven Truscott is considered acquitted!!!

First, a little background history:

In 1959, 14 year-old Steven Truscott was the last person to see 12-year-old Lynne Harper alive when he gave her a bike ride to the nearby highway. Truscott was convicted of the rape and murder of Harper on Sept. 30, 1959, some three months after her body was found in a wooded area near the CFB Clinton air force base (Vanastra) in southwestern Ontario. Truscott maintained from the beginning he saw Lynne get into a car once they reached the rural highway and drive away.

At fourteen, Truscott was the youngest person ever sentenced to hang in Canada - a sentence that was commuted to life in prison in 1960. Six years later, a book by journalist Isabel LeBourdais - "The Trial of Steven Prescott" - was the first published document which poked holes in the police investigation and the prosecution's case, prompting a review by the Supreme Court of Canada.
But the conviction was upheld and Truscott spent 10 years in prison before he was released on parole in 1969. He later married his wife Marlene and moved to Guelph, Ont., where he raised three children in anonymity under an assumed surname.

In 2000, he finally went public with his case in a television documentary. His lawyers asked the federal justice minister to re-open the case. Retired Quebec justice Fred Kaufman was given the task, and upon reviewing it, concluded there was likely a miscarriage of justice.

The federal justice minister at the time sent the case to the Ontario Court of Appeal to determine if new evidence (mostly forensic) would have altered the outcome of the original trial.

Today, the Appeal Court decided that Steven Truscott should be acquitted on the basis of a miscarriage of justice, which is everything short of being declared innocent - which, given the passage of time and lack of factual evidence, is the best realistic outcome for this case. The Crown will not be appealing this decision, and has said that the government will fully co-operate if Steven Truscott decides to go for compensation.

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This particular story affects me because it happened right in my backyard of my home (figuratively speaking). I have probably been driven past the spot on the highway where Lynne Harper was picked up by that mysterious man in the car a million times in the three and a half years I lived there. I've always believed him innocent - there was just not enough evidence to construct a case about him, and the police moved and pointed fingers way too quickly in 1959. Small-town farming communities tend to be very tight-knit, and coupled with the fact that this kind of happening was totally out of the ordinary, they were scared...they wanted someone to pay for the murder and rape of a little girl, and Steven Truscott was their scapegoat. The only heart-breaking aspect of this case is that there will probably never be closure for the family of Lynne Howard in finding her killer after all this time. I'm truly saddened for her family. However, jailing an innocent man isn't the answer, and I'm glad to see at least one kind of justice was served today.

Thanksgiving is only 41 days away. I can't wait to go home.

Assumption

Why is it, whenever I complain I'm not feeling great, the person to whom I've complained to asks automatically if I'm pregnant?? I've noticed this happening with more frequency since my 20th birthday, and it totally perplexes me that someone would automatically assume this is the cause of my ailment. This particular situation also occurs when I, usually overcome with some good news, exclaim to Person X, "Guess What?!" Person X, more often than not, replies with "You're pregnant." Uh, no. I was going to tell you I got an A on that final project I was worried about, actually? Because, no offense or anything, but [good] marks and grades are what turns my crank these days, not the possibility of nurturing life inside me for nine months.

Besides, give me some credit here, but news of an impeding child (at this point of my life) wouldn't be conveyed in joyous tones of a "Guess What?!"

It would be more than likely conveyed in a tone of an ashen whisper, with the words "I am fucked."

Think about it. I'm young, I don't have a steady guy, I'm halfway through finishing my schooling, I have debt coming out of my ears, etc etc. NOT the ideal situation to bring a child into the world with. But anyway, that's besides the point, really.

The point is that the assumption in itself is just plain rude, as it implies that I'm careless, stupid, or a slut (of which, I assure you, when it comes to matters such as these, I am most definitely not), and to me, it's slightly disturbing. It really shouldn't be an issue. Why is it the first thing people think of? Has anyone else ever encountered this phenomenon? Do people ever stop assuming as you get older, or does it get worse? (Oh please, don't let it get worse, I can barely stand it as it is).

For the record, it's been 17.5 hours since my last smoke. Can't talk too much about it or else I start to crave, but other than that no side-effects other than a bit of fuzzy-headedness (which could be tied to my sleeping patterns, and not at all to the fact that I've been lacking in nicotine for nearly a full day). Don't know if this means I'm quitting, although probably not. Although it's comforting to come to the realization that most of the smoking I do is merely habitual, not to feed an addiction. So that's good news. :)

Bumbling around the kitchen

So while 'experimenting' (more like throwing together what I had left) in the kitchen, I stumbled upon this really yummy meal - it's cheap, super filling, really simple to throw together, easy on the dishes and takes almost no time to prepare (it's also semi - healthyish! Well, kindof. Healthier than Ramen Noodles or Kraft Dinner with hotdogs, anyway). In short, it's a perfect meal for anyone (particularly a student) who's strapped for time, cash and hates doing dishes. ;)

- Heat a large non-stick frying pan, melt butter to grease it (I put butter because I've been told all my life that it's healthier than oil).
- Take one medium-to-large potato, wash, and slice really thinly. Toss into frying pan.
- I put a couple of shakes of garlic powder, just because I really, really like it.
- Put cheddar-and-potato (you could use another type, cheddar-and-potato is just my favourite) perogies in a medium-sized bowl, cover with water and pop in the microwave for five minutes (for 10). Adjust time for amount of perogies used. They should be easy to insert a fork into the middle when they're done.
- Cook potatoes until they're easy to get a fork into and nearly opaque. Turn often.
- Take a bag of mixed frozen veggies and put a good amount into the pan.
- When the perogies are done, put them into the frying pan as well.
- Fry all together for about five minutes.
- Empty the bowl of water, and empty the frying pan into the bowl.
- Season with salt, and I put a little Roasted Garlic Mayonnaise ontop and mix it in. It really gives it flavour and that extra little something.

Yum! I could live off this dish indefinitely. In fact, I have a bowl of it waiting for me right beside me, getting cold. See ya!

Wonderful Mood!

I’m in a very strange, almost magical mood tonight, which has, so far, made me be able to resist going out and buying a case of beer with the last of my money, every so often getting up and dancing my heart out in my new flat to Happy Hardcore (Akaiya’s “Rampage”, “Up To No Good” and “Silly Raver” mixes), have a slight grin on my face even though I’m 85% sure the guy I’ve been seeing for the last month is ending things with me, and I’m trying to repell the another one who is an utter skeezebag (want an example? When I said I felt like going out and drinking & dancing he said he could “ply me with alcohol then take advantage of me”. Charming fellow) and has now led me to post on here and update you all on my wonderful mood. :)

Add to this gorgeous mood a sprinkle of a particular sweetheart cutie, if you will. Who has been making me fall for him just a little more each day for the past two months - very sneaky, if you ask me, because I didn't realize it was happening until the last week or so. I don't want to fully fall for him quite yet though, for reasons that have nothing to do with him and everything to do with my issues. So for now I'm just enjoying the lovely feelings a newly discovered liking for someone brings, enjoying all the laughs and slow, meaningful kisses and compliments he doles out occasionally, like sweets from a jar only brought out on special occasions.

I haven't felt like this in a very long time - so long, in fact, that I had forgotten just how amazing this feeling is. It's like butterflies and the first perfect spring day of the season and the joy of seeing a beautiful sunrise and coming home and smelling freshly baked bread waiting for you and a million other wonderous, comforting, thrilling things all mixed up together in just the right amount, starting somewhere in the vicinity of my stomach and slowly threading it's way through the rest of my body like molasses. It's such an enchanting and delicious concoction that I have to be careful not to indulge too much lest I get drunk on the feeling and lose sight of the reason which has caused me to feel this way.

But I'm not holding my breath or anything, because that's just silly. Dontcha know you can die if you do that?