Yesterday my mom was feeling well enough to accompany my dad and I to Whitby to check out the new X-Files movie. I enjoyed it, but I'm an X-Phile. It's one of my geekier qualities. I'd been planning to see it with my mother for quite some time, as we used to watch the series together when I was in high school. After the movie we ate dinner at Montana's and headed back for Peterborough.

This morning I had lunch at Smitty's with my dad and sisters. The folks have been generous the last few days, making contributions towards the new apartment. Dad dug out an old coffee maker and toaster for me to use. Today the old man sprung for a new microwave at Canadian Tire. Thanks to him it looks like I'll actually have THINGS to put in the apartment.

Fireworks are going off in the distance. Every Wednesday and Saturday night during the summer, the Festival of Lights continues at Del Crary Park.

I miss my girlfriend.

My mother hasn't been feeling well. Her diet is pretty messed up right now because just about every food she eats aggravates her stomach. She's been eating these Del Monte fruit ice cream bars non-stop for months. Something has to change or she's going to get really sick. Thankfully she's seeing a doctor about it later this month. She really needs to start taking better care of herself. She'll be 60 next year and her body definitely doesn't work the way it used to.

I have this fear, sometimes, that my dad is going to long outlive my mom. I love my dad, but I can't imagine being completely alone with him without my mom there as a occasional buffer. I was sitting at the kitchen table reading yesterday and my dad came in and started talking about her illnesses and his parents and where they came from and on and on for a half an hour. I barely said a word. I was amazed at how badly he must have needed someone to actually pay attention to what he was saying. He's got a lot on his mind, but his mind works in a way that won't let him fully accept the things he thinks about. And my dad loves to talk, not with people, but at them. He loves an audience with whom he can share observations. He really would have been a great motivational speaker. Or a priest. He would have made a fantastic priest, if he didn't have such a convoluted view of organized religion. I can't imagine what he'd be like without my mom around. Or I can, and it disturbs me a little.

My sister's ex-fiance showed up late last night looking for her. She broke up with him a few months ago and he's a wreck. She wasn't here, so my dad took him outside and tried to set him straight about showing up at the house unannounced. The guy lives in Toronto, which means he must have bussed here not really caring about what would happen once he showed up. They had been dating for seven years, from about age 18 to 25. I can't imagine going through that and having it end after such a long time. I've been in far shorter relationships and thought I'd never recover emotionally from the breakups. A part of me hates to say it, but after awhile you get used to the idea that relationships can end, that they only succeed when and if everything lines up correctly. To think that you're part of this invincible thing that goes on for years and to see it destroyed must be tough. I understand why he doesn't get it, and why he can't let go, but I wish he'd do a little growing up for my family's sake.

Dad took me out to Walmart last night and we picked up some stuff for the new apartment. The joys of coffee tables, end tables and bathroom accessories! So many aisles of products I didn't think I'd ever care two craps about! When we got back we watched the season nine finale of The X-Files. The plan today is to see a matinee showing of the new movie in Whitby, since it isn't playing in Peterborough any longer, but my folks have been late risers this week. It's 12:30 and they're still in bed. Crazy kids.

Went to see The Dark Knight again last night with the folks and I think I enjoyed it even more the second time around. The first time I felt like I was waiting for the action to end because it was so intense. This time I knew how the story unfolded, so I could sit back and take in more of the plot. Mom and Dad liked it a lot. My mom has a lot of sympathy for actors who die young, and Heath Ledger is no exception. One of her favorite expressions, though she didn't use it last night, is "he/she's such a good little actor/actress."

I'll hopefully be hitting up Walmart today to pick up some clothes and/or appliances. My parents offered to give me an old coffee table. I really should make a list of the things I'm going to need so that I can pick some of them up while I'm here and just take them to Ottawa on the truck next week.

I showed my mother a website I found that contains a sound file of my grandfather reading poetry on the radio program he used to host. It made her cry. It's right here, if you're interested. That's his band playing in the background.

After scrambling to finish packing my things and leaving the apartment to catch a bus, I'm in Peterborough. My dad picked me up from the station. I spent the evening talking with my folks, telling them what I've been up to lately, getting filled in on what's new in their lives. We spoke lazily over Star Wars films that were showing on Space.

I'd like to get some reading and writing done this week. I've got about a hundred pages to go in Joe's book, and I packed my books on reading and narrative craft. No laptop, but I should be stretching my longhand muscle anyhow.

I was insatiably horny when I woke up this morning. There's a pillow on the bed that's stuffed with feathers and the calami kept poking me in the arm and face when I was trying to sleep. I could grab them and pull them right through the pillowcase. A very weird sensation, especially in the dark when I couldn't tell what they were.

New blog! Obviously it needs a redesign. I'll get around to that.

The move went about as well as could be expected, though I'm missing three shirts I just purchased before leaving Toronto. It's just Value Village shit, but still. When I first moved up to Ottawa seven years ago I lost a hoodie, so it's a repeating theme. Next time I'll probably show up naked. If there is a next time.

I spent the night at my folks' place. We watched WWE Smackdown, which is a hilarious show to watch with my mother, who alternates between thinking it's silly to thinking it's disgusting and dangerous. Total mark. In the morning my dad and I set forth. Usually I sleep most of the trip, but I was too excited to see the city again.

The service elevator was booked all day, but we were able to use it for one trip and brought the rest up in the passenger elevator. It probably took about an hour. Three cheers for minimalist living. I didn't bring the hutch or the dresser back with me, which saved some of the heavier lifting. After everything was upstairs, dad took me grocery shopping at Billings Bridge. Shopping with dad is like enduring a grueling job interview ("How about eggs? What are your thoughts on peanut butter and jelly? Studies have shown that the sweetness of oranges is set to rise in the next fiscal quarter. What would your advice be for potential investors looking to diversify from canned meats and rhubarb?"). Maybe not that bad. I love the old man.

So, yeah, new place. It's the highest apartment I've ever lived in. It's on the tenth floor and my room has a view west over the canal towards Centretown. Not bad. I got things settled, went to WalMart and bought a shower curtain, bath mat and hangers. Ash, Ian and I hung out drinking beers and watching TV. At around midnight I retired, started reading Slaughterhouse Five and fell asleep.

I call this blog 2AM Traffic because that's the sound I'll be falling asleep to for the greater part of the summer. Cars heading down Riverside, buses moving along the Transitway. Sounds I haven't heard in a long time. Lullabyes.